In the Quiet
This isn't going to sound like much and the only eyewitness was G the intrepid (and cranky) inherited cat but nevertheless something happened this afternoon that seemed like a small miracle to me, as it was something I've been waiting and hoping for since I got here two+ years ago.
G and I were out on his daily walk. I was sitting at the back of the property on a bench under the Catalpa tree by the pond and G was stretched out expired in the grass at my feet. I was staring at the dragonflies zipping over the water, thinking about everything and out of the corner of my eye I see a movement.
I go still.
G lifts his head.
A fawn, young and still spotty (a girl, I discover in a few minutes), is strolling past us toward the water. She's very close, within ten feet. Her ears are high and her fluffy white tail is relaxed, flicking away flies. She glances at us (G's eyes are bugged out like big black melons now) and continues to the water's edge. Keeps her back to us and drinks, and drinks.
I can hardly breathe, that's how beautiful she is. And I cannot believe that finally, finally, after two+ years of daily walks with G, of trying not to alarm the wildlife and of walking easy so that maybe they won't panic and run just at the sight of me, I have finally gotten my heart's wish.
This fawn accepted me as a part of the scenery just like she would have accepted a rabbit, a bird, a groundhog. I was not automatically a threat or something violent to be terrified of but just another being who meant no harm, who sat relaxed near the water enjoying the sun and the breeze with a wide-eyed, hairy, croaking feline at her feet.
She finishes drinking and turns back, dainty, delightful, sleek and gorgeous. Picks her way toward us, staying about eight feet away and pauses to survey us. (G is now beside himself, sitting up and craning his neck and croaking away at her. God only knows what he was saying.) She takes two steps closer, curious, pauses, flicks her ears and continues a slow saunter back into the underbrush behind me.
I am enchanted.
G and I were out on his daily walk. I was sitting at the back of the property on a bench under the Catalpa tree by the pond and G was stretched out expired in the grass at my feet. I was staring at the dragonflies zipping over the water, thinking about everything and out of the corner of my eye I see a movement.
I go still.
G lifts his head.
A fawn, young and still spotty (a girl, I discover in a few minutes), is strolling past us toward the water. She's very close, within ten feet. Her ears are high and her fluffy white tail is relaxed, flicking away flies. She glances at us (G's eyes are bugged out like big black melons now) and continues to the water's edge. Keeps her back to us and drinks, and drinks.
I can hardly breathe, that's how beautiful she is. And I cannot believe that finally, finally, after two+ years of daily walks with G, of trying not to alarm the wildlife and of walking easy so that maybe they won't panic and run just at the sight of me, I have finally gotten my heart's wish.
This fawn accepted me as a part of the scenery just like she would have accepted a rabbit, a bird, a groundhog. I was not automatically a threat or something violent to be terrified of but just another being who meant no harm, who sat relaxed near the water enjoying the sun and the breeze with a wide-eyed, hairy, croaking feline at her feet.
She finishes drinking and turns back, dainty, delightful, sleek and gorgeous. Picks her way toward us, staying about eight feet away and pauses to survey us. (G is now beside himself, sitting up and craning his neck and croaking away at her. God only knows what he was saying.) She takes two steps closer, curious, pauses, flicks her ears and continues a slow saunter back into the underbrush behind me.
I am enchanted.