Day 16: L’après-midi d’un faune

Photo by Robert Woeger on Unsplash

Yesterday I went for a run along Decker’s Creek Trail in Morgantown. The day was very hot, very sunny, and I’d hoped to find some tree cover, but it was a little after noon and there wasn’t much shade to be had. I set my mind to enjoying the intense summer-ness of it, sunburn and all.

About a mile in, my eye caught a small animal just off to the left of the trail, maybe a hundred yards ahead. It didn’t look familiar, somehow - a fox? No, too big. A dog? Not with such long legs.

As I came a little closer, I realized it was a small spotted fawn - the youngest I’d ever seen. It seemed to be alone.

I kept running at the same pace forward, hoping to get a closer look but expecting it to dash away at any moment.

Instead, the little thing turned and began to run straight toward me! It bounced along a little merrily, as if hoping for a playmate. It probably closed half of the distance between us before it stopped.

I stopped too and softly said hello, my heart full of tenderness for this bold and playful creature. I don’t have children but have often wished I did, some days forlornly. As it happens, this had been one of those days.

The fawn paused, turned its head and began to move off the trail. I said hello again, and again it stopped. This time it lasted just a second. As quickly as it had come toward me, it turned and gamboled off into the tall grasses and out of sight.

I thought of that little one often during the night and morning. Clearly the deer in Morgantown are too tame for their own good, and too near and numerous for the gardeners’ good, but I didn’t care about any of that. All I could do was marvel. I felt chosen.

Today, as my husband and I were driving through the neighborhood, we passed a large grassy field. I caught sight of something - two things - moving. There were two fawns, both about the size of the one I’d seen on Saturday, bouncing after one another on the hillside. I pointed them out, asked my husband to slow the car down. Maybe one of those is mine, I told Gary.

The road was far enough away that they paid us little heed. We drove off, the fawns still rollicking to their own caper.