We all knew this day would arrive.
You just can't prepare yourself for it, though. While you know in your bones that it is the way it should be, your heart still gets broken.
What am I talking about, you ask? Seymour, the yearling buck. Today was his day to fly. I've been trying to come to terms with the inevitable for days, now, as I watched him grow more and more restless in the nursery. He was isolating himself from the others--not at all like the Seymour we know and love--and he paced the fenceline, looking into the yard, the pasture, the world beyond his little world. He is a year and three months old, now; a juvenile buckling with features that change every day as he matures into a beautiful and graceful adult. An adult that needs room to run. To fly. To be free.
My last interaction with Seymour was yesterday. As I was leaving the nursery with some very dear friends, Seymour came up to the fence, and with some urgency, stuck his head through the fence and licked me right on the nose--the sweetest of deer kisses. Then he went back to doing what he did best--rest in the nursery with his charges: Abby, Gracie, Mia, and the newly added Anabel. This morning when I went to give Anabel her bottle, I assumed that Seymour was, perhaps, lying in the dog stall waiting for breakfast.
So, I gave the little calf her bottle and went on with my morning ritual of drinking a nice, hot cup of coffee and reading the internet news. Bob, the foundling Jack Russell terrier's barks broke the peaceful morning, and I looked out the window of the office to see what he was up to. About then, I saw a beautiful deer in the front pasture, gracefully leaping along the fenceline toward the back. It headed straight for the mixed herd of horses and donkeys gathered along the cart path, and as it approached, the herd parted like the Red Sea. After hesitating a moment, the deer continued on toward the back gate and the freedom of the back 100 acres of our farm. "Hmmm", I thought to myself. What a pretty deer." I didn't realize until a half an hour later when I went to feed that I'd just witnessed Seymour's flight to freedom. No heartfelt goodbyes, no fanfare--just a quiet exit as his white tail bobbed toward the gate.
And then, he was gone.
I know in my "knower" that this is as it should be. We did a good job raising him. He's fully capable of foraging on his own, making his way in this great world around him. But still, my heart is broken. Such a gift this last year has been! I have learned and experienced things I never thought I'd have the opportunity to, thanks to this precious little gift of a baby deer. And I must say, I am the richer for it. My heart will mend--as I dive into the harried schedule of bottle feeding our new little calf. But, as the days grow shorter, I will spend time reflecting on the precious memories I have of a beautiful deer named Seymour.
Godspeed, my friend.
You just can't prepare yourself for it, though. While you know in your bones that it is the way it should be, your heart still gets broken.
What am I talking about, you ask? Seymour, the yearling buck. Today was his day to fly. I've been trying to come to terms with the inevitable for days, now, as I watched him grow more and more restless in the nursery. He was isolating himself from the others--not at all like the Seymour we know and love--and he paced the fenceline, looking into the yard, the pasture, the world beyond his little world. He is a year and three months old, now; a juvenile buckling with features that change every day as he matures into a beautiful and graceful adult. An adult that needs room to run. To fly. To be free.
My last interaction with Seymour was yesterday. As I was leaving the nursery with some very dear friends, Seymour came up to the fence, and with some urgency, stuck his head through the fence and licked me right on the nose--the sweetest of deer kisses. Then he went back to doing what he did best--rest in the nursery with his charges: Abby, Gracie, Mia, and the newly added Anabel. This morning when I went to give Anabel her bottle, I assumed that Seymour was, perhaps, lying in the dog stall waiting for breakfast.
So, I gave the little calf her bottle and went on with my morning ritual of drinking a nice, hot cup of coffee and reading the internet news. Bob, the foundling Jack Russell terrier's barks broke the peaceful morning, and I looked out the window of the office to see what he was up to. About then, I saw a beautiful deer in the front pasture, gracefully leaping along the fenceline toward the back. It headed straight for the mixed herd of horses and donkeys gathered along the cart path, and as it approached, the herd parted like the Red Sea. After hesitating a moment, the deer continued on toward the back gate and the freedom of the back 100 acres of our farm. "Hmmm", I thought to myself. What a pretty deer." I didn't realize until a half an hour later when I went to feed that I'd just witnessed Seymour's flight to freedom. No heartfelt goodbyes, no fanfare--just a quiet exit as his white tail bobbed toward the gate.
And then, he was gone.
I know in my "knower" that this is as it should be. We did a good job raising him. He's fully capable of foraging on his own, making his way in this great world around him. But still, my heart is broken. Such a gift this last year has been! I have learned and experienced things I never thought I'd have the opportunity to, thanks to this precious little gift of a baby deer. And I must say, I am the richer for it. My heart will mend--as I dive into the harried schedule of bottle feeding our new little calf. But, as the days grow shorter, I will spend time reflecting on the precious memories I have of a beautiful deer named Seymour.
Godspeed, my friend.
Nooooooooooo . . . I wish he would've waited until after my birthday! :-)
ReplyDeleteSeriously, I knew that one day he'd head off on his own to sample freedom and meet a lady friend (or several), and I knew you'd feel wistful as do I. But as you said, you've had an experience few of us get to have, raising a baby deer into adulthood successfully.
So congratulations to you, and you never know . . . Seymour just might look in on you all occasionally.
I betcha he'll come visit you guys again! That "mommy" in you whether it's for 2 or 4 legged kids! You are MOMMY!
ReplyDeleteThanks for all your sharing. Love your blog and LOVE your photos. elaine