Newsletter – June 12, 2026
A mother deer and her fawn—who I’m calling Deirdre—paid a visit to our neighbor’s backyard on Saturday, unaware of what the day had in store for them.
Deirdre was probably a newborn, one day old at most. She walked with a knock-kneed wobbly gait like the endearing animation of Bambi that Disney artists created for the 1942 movie.
Her mother relaxed in the shade, laying down in the cool grasses while her daughter explored the yard. Deirdre found many interesting scents and tasted a variety of plants with a nibble here and a nibble there.
The mother kept an eye on Deirdre as she trotted playfully between the houses and played in the border garden alongside the screened-in porch.
That was when the neighbors across the street pulled into their driveway and a big black dog jumped out of their SUV. Deirdre’s mother high-tailed it out of there, running in the opposite direction and down into the ravine.
The dog ran playfully around the yard across the street and had no idea there were any deer nearby. The neighbors called to their dog and the family went inside together.
Deirdre had no idea of what had just happened and continued to explore the long grasses alongside the porch. When she realized that her mother was no longer nearby she settled down to wait for her return.
Several hours passed and dark clouds approached from the horizon. The thunder rumbled in long deep drumrolls before the downpour began.
Poor Deirdre had never seen or heard this kind of weather and she dashed into our front yard, running chaotically around the trees, bucking like a bronco and braying with fear. She was scared out of her wits.
The rain fell heavily and Deirdre eventually took shelter by the side of the porch next door where the eaves and long grasses afforded her some semblance of safety.
She slept and waited for her mother’s return.
Six hours. Eight hours. Ten hours, and no sign of Mama.
Deirdre stood up occasionally and stretched but never left her little nest. That was a good thing, too, because another thunderstorm passed through later in the day sending down pebble-sized hailstones. The two houses protected her from getting pelted.
As we checked on Deirdre through the bedroom windows, I couldn’t help but think of guardian angels watching over us as we endure the hardships of life. If only she knew we were there and keeping an eye on her, maybe she would find some comfort in that.
We were aware that stepping outside might send Deirdre running from the very spot where her mother could find her, but what if the mother was injured and couldn’t get back? Heavy rains have sent stormwater rushing dangerously through the ravine and have even brought a tree crashing down the hillside.
We continued our vigil.
Dusk fell and the mother did not return. At ten o’clock I held a flashlight to the window and could just make out Deirdre’s body in the darkness.
I wished her well and went to sleep.
At dawn I raised the blind and saw the empty spot where Deirdre had been sleeping. I had mixed feelings because I wasn’t sure if she had just bolted or if her mother had returned.
I glanced at the neighbor’s back yard and in the pale morning light I had my answer.
The graininess of the photo is due to the lack of light, but it shows Deirdre nursing. Finally, her well-earned meal. Her mother is looking in the direction of the house across the street, keeping a lookout for the big black dog.
All is safe now. All is well.
TTFN
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Eric Margerum 