ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Monday, June 17, 1996 TAG: 9606180046
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: B-6 EDITION: METRO
COLUMN: BILL COCHRAN
SOURCE: BILL COCHRAN
The sleek deer was standing in the road that winds up to our house when I hurried down to get the newspaper early one morning last week. She watched me for a few seconds, then walked into the meadow, elegant and graceful, and in no hurry. She knew I was no threat.
I'm seeing her, and others like her, about every day now. The deer have returned to their favorite summer grounds, and that's out of the deep woods and into the lush meadows.
This is a good time of year for deer. They've survived the cold temperatures and deep snows of winter. Meager rations are a thing of the past. It is a time of tender grass and succulent buds and leaves. If that isn't enough - and often it does not appear to be - there are the beans, lettuce and strawberry plants in our garden. And young apple trees in our orchard.
We planted a clover patch just for the deer, but it is tough to tell them ``you may eat from it freely, but from the garden you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat from it you shall surely die.''
The deer even look better this time of year. Gone is the dark, heavy, sometimes shabby, coat of late winter, replaced by the sleek, soft, brownish-red fur of spring and summer.
The does have dropped their fawns, but I've yet to spot one. They are out there, nonetheless, in seclusion, along the edges of the fields or hidden in grass that has grown thick and tall from frequent rain.
The does will form small herds in time, but for now mostly I see singles, their behavior influenced by the task of slipping off to nurse their fawns in seclusion several times a day.
The bucks put their energies into antler development and won't be noticed much until late summer and early fall, when hunters begin to take great interest in their well-being. For now, the does are in charge. Growing antlers is hard work done in solitude.
The fawns soon will be bounding about in the meadows on long, slim legs made for running. Until then, they are tough to spot, because their chief defense is to remain inactive. They sleep, watch butterflies, listen to the wind that moves the tall meadow grass like ocean waves and savor the warm sun on their backs.
Jim Crumley tells about searching for a fawn to photograph on his Botetourt County farm last week. He systematically divided a meadow into sections and walked it foot by foot until he came across a young deer bedded in the grass where its mother left it.
Big ears. Big eyes. A nose like a chunk of polished coal. A speckled coat.
A perfect picture of innocence and natural beauty; only Crumley had failed to put film in his camera.
It isn't a perfect world for fawns, though. Not all will survive. A neighbor heard one bawling the other day and rushed to the sound to discover a free-ranging dog killing the little fellow. Hay-making equipment will get others. Also highways. And predators. And if something happens to their mother, the fawns face certain death. There are no orphanages in the wild. Nature produces extras to compensate for losses.
The fawns stand the best chance when the deer herd is in balance with its habitat, and the assurance of that is the kindest act of mankind. Healthy adults produce healthy fawns with the kind of body weights at birth that promote survival. They grow rapidly on their mother's rich milk, and by winter they are big and tough enough to take care of themselves. They will emerge into next spring to begin the cycle anew, like the generations before them.
LENGTH: Medium: 70 linesby CNB