Black-tailed deer in the Blake Garden, Kensington, Calfornia. Two in the open and one behind the tree.: photo by TJ Gehling, 2 February 2013
she will stay close
to home
unless driven
by need
to browse afar
the largely pregnant
carstruck doe
lying aslant
the traffic flow
in morning fog
black mouth agape
eyes wide unseeing
targets
for the pecking crows
Columbian black-tailed deer (Odocoileus hemionus subsp. columbianus), female, Olympic National Park: photo by Walter Siegmnd, 3 July 2008
Columbian black-tailed deer at Angel Island. Caught this Columbian black-tailed deer jumping down from a retaining wall on Angel Island. I didn't even notice the sailboat until I reviewed the picture later on my computer (I believe that's the Richmond / Berkeley area in the background).: photo by Adam Ince, 3 September 2010
Black-tailed deer (Odocoileus hemionus), doe with fawn, Oregon: photo by Noël Zia Lee, 25 October 2007
Black-tailed deer (Odocoileus hemionus), doe, Oregon: photo by Noël Zia Lee, 25 October 2007
Black-tailed deer (Odocoileus hemionus), doe, Oregon: photo by Noël Zia Lee, 25 October 2007
Dead Deer. Found in Berkeley, California: photo by Larry Jones, 13 March 2011
[Untitled]: photo by Rob Scumaci, 21 December 2013
[Untitled]: photo by Rob Scumaci, 21 December 2013
Recycling (Black-tailed deer, El Cerrito, California): photo by TJ Gehling, 17 October 2012
7 comments:
On several early mornings we’ve seen two tiny fawns frolicking in our back yard. The mother, if we look carefully, is patiently watching from the woods on the other side of the back gate, which we leave open to facilitate deer travel; the fawns are not yet able to jump the wire fence. Humans armed with cars aren’t such a threat on our street—yet; but a couple of bears have been reported nearby. We’re all contending for habitat now.
Yes, the mothers must always keep an eye out, and here, with take-no-prisoners traffic rushing to and from the Bridge, the danger is constant; typically, a mother with young will supervise the perilous crossing; usually there will be two fawns, and she will see one across, then come back for the other, if it's stranded. Always heart-stopping to watch this.
But right now, it's birthing time, and normally the mother would be taking care of that in the hills, the natural habitat. But there's not a drop to drink up there, now. So it's down here to browse, and take your chances. This victim -- a big mature doe, at least the size of a small horse -- was still carrying her young; normally it's a litter of two. So of course that would make a likely toll of three, in this hit. Whoever the driver was, h/she didn't even stick around long enough to put in a call that might have brought somebody out to at least give the still-warm body the dignity of not being left out for further abuse.
Or -- shall we simply call it recycling?
While up there in Anchorage, AK, in 2008, some accommodation taking place? Some shared joy between humans and our deepest mammalian neighbors... (There's Whitman's wanting to go live with the animals, and even in his hustle-bustle world...) But this video is pretty wonderful... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yNy9jTeolUk.
I grew up in Oakland, CA, we moved to the hills and sightings of deer in our backyard was always an event... and quail, their whistly jabber... Even here in Philadelphia there's a forest at the end of our row-house block, goes on for miles. I've seen deer, a turtle, a great blue heron taking off from the creek, foxes, possum... I'm sure 90% of our neighbors have never set foot in it. I try to go every day (except deep snow).
Who so list to hount I know where is an hynde;
But as for me, helas, I may no more . . .
__________
Deer walk upon our mountains, and the quail
Whistle about us their spontaneous cries . . .
Abdal-Hayy and Steve,
What better way to pick up the day than walking out with the poets of the wood and shore -- and to have Wyatt and Stevens tagging along, putting in their essential 2 cents....
And who can say no to this?
We can even pop in Bishop's awesome moose, if "awesome" hadn't gotten so diminished... But what better word to describe that bus-stopper!
.... — Suddenly the bus driver
stops with a jolt,
turns off his lights.
A moose has come out of
the impenetrable wood
and stands there, looms, rather,
in the middle of the road.
It approaches; it sniffs at
the bus’s hot hood.
Towering, antlerless,
high as a church,
homely as a house
(or, safe as houses).
A man’s voice assures us
“Perfectly harmless....”
Some of the passengers
exclaim in whispers,
childishly, softly,
“Sure are big creatures.”
“It’s awful plain.”
“Look! It’s a she!”
Taking her time,
she looks the bus over,
grand, otherworldly.
Why, why do we feel
(we all feel) this sweet
sensation of joy?
“Curious creatures,”
says our quiet driver,
rolling his r’s.
“Look at that, would you.”
Then he shifts gears.
For a moment longer,
by craning backward,
the moose can be seen
on the moonlit macadam;
then there’s a dim
smell of moose, an acrid
smell of gasoline.
__
--from Elizabeth Bishop: The Moose
Post a Comment