Protection of the young seems to be an instinct that
nature has hardwired into most species. Sometimes, though, I feel that the
human species wasn't in line the day this trait was handed out. In FY 2012, for
instance, an estimated 686,000 children were abused in the 50
states, the District of Columbia, and Puerto Rico, an alarming number by any
measure, including sexual abuse, physical abuse, and abuse of children with
disabilities. Many of these children were abused by their parents or other
primary care-givers.
It’s a sad situation, and enough to turn the rosiest
optimist into a cynic. This morning, though, I observed an act of parental care
that at least restored my faith in nature – unfortunately, that act was not
performed by human parents.
Walking my aged dog in the forest behind my house, I
came upon a small herd of deer; several does and their fawns. One of the fawns
had gone off by itself, a hundred yards or so separated from the rest. The
usual outcome of such encounters is the scattering of the herd, but in this
case, I happened to find myself between the fawn and the rest. What happened
next is interesting.
The normally timid deer didn’t immediately flee. Two
of the does stood their ground, making huffing noises at me, while the fawn froze
in place. I stopped walking and, standing as still as I could (getting the dog
to stay still is easy, she’s so old, she prefers resting anyway). We stood this
way for nearly fifteen minutes. Me and the dog watching the deer, waiting to
see what they would do. The does continued to make huffing noises, sometimes
edging toward me – getting within fifty yards at times. The fawn remained
perfectly still. I sidled toward the fawn. The does came closer, stamping their
feet and huffing. When I turned toward them, they withdrew, but only a short
way.
Finally, when I turned and walked quickly toward the
fawn, it fled toward a stream just downhill of us. The does, frantic now, came
even closer, huffing even louder. I stopped and watched. The lead doe sniffed
the air and looked down toward the stream. I could no longer see the fawn, but
could hear it running through the foliage. Suddenly, the entire herd, which had
been waiting a ways back from the two does, turned and fled deeper into the
forest. After a couple more huffs at me, the two does turned, and with their
white tails flashing, followed.
If I’d been a hunter or a predator, those two deer
would have been in great danger. But, they stood their ground in an effort to
protect the stray fawn, trying to draw my attention away from it long enough to
allow it to flee to safety.
My faith in nature is restored. I only wish more
humans would take a lesson from it.
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