In 2009 my husband Doug & I, along with my sister’s family and friends went to Tanzania to view “The Great Migration” across the Serengeti Plain. The trip was number one on our “bucket list” and it exceeded all expectations. The sheer numbers and varieties of animals were staggering to behold. When we returned to Campbell’s Ferry Doug started calling the orchard, where our wild animals congregate, The Ferry Serengeti. Though not as exotic as those on the real Serengeti, they nonetheless provide great viewing and (sometimes exasperating) entertainment. As an aside to anyone dreaming about a trip to Africa, I highly recommend Wildlife Explorer and the outfitter Gary Strand. Of all my world travels, including an earlier trip to Africa, this 2009 safari was THE trip of a lifetime.
In the early spring the pregnant does populate the orchard with their yearlings. The young deer romp and chase each other, sometimes chastised by the adults with a quick kick or bite. Once their fawns are born, the does tend to sequester the babies away, hiding them in hollows or in thick clumps of bushes when they come to the meadows to feed.
In June of this year Doug and our visiting friend from New York, John Filo, went up to the woods south of our airstrip to harvest some downed logs. While Doug was scouting logs, John spotted a stump that would make a fine stool for him to sit on and wait. Fortunately as he approached it, he happened to look down. He had nearly stepped on a day-old fawn that the mother had left in a small hollow in the ground for safe keeping. John called to Doug and they were able to get a photograph of it. The fawn remained perfectly still, moving nothing more than its eyelids for the entire time they were in the vicinity. Doug and John returned to show the photo to my friend Jackie and me. Leaving the men behind, Jackie and I hiked up to the spot they described but by that time the mother, who must have been nearby, had moved the baby. We found the small hollow but no fawn.
Later in the summer, when the does deem it safe enough to bring their fawns out into our viewing, we often see them in the evening as we enjoy an adult beverage on the terrace area in front of our cabin. It is fascinating to watch the sweet curiosity of the fawns when they notice us. I know I am projecting my interpretation of their behavior but first they seem astonished, opening their big eyes even wider and freezing in their tracks. If we remain still, one might begin to approach, lowering, raising, and cocking its head as it studies us, moving forward on slow, tentative hooves. I wrote about one such encounter in my journal:
A second fawn appeared, and like the first one, stopped in its tracks to examine me. I sat perfectly still. This fawn was much smaller than the first. In fact it was the smallest fawn I have seen out here. Its delicate legs looked no bigger around than my fingers. It slowly and deliberately walked toward me, its eyes locked on mine. It moved in slow motion, exaggerating each lift of its leg and setting it down cautiously. It would move toward me a few halting steps and then stop….and repeat, until it came within 10 feet of me. I remained still. When it dropped its head to graze I noticed something that I had not seen before. Not only did it have spots but also white stripes on either side of its spine from its ears to its tail. I recalled being a first grader in Germany when our gardener brought a very tiny fawn, barely walking, to our house for me to see. I don’t know if he meant it as a gift but, in any case, my mother would not let me keep it. Mother told me he had probably killed the doe, which made me very sad. Now that I know more about deer I think it is possible that he found the fawn in a spot where its mother had left it for safekeeping, which somehow makes me sadder still. Somewhere I have a photo of the fawn beside me on the carpet in our living room. Coming back through the years to where I now sat on the hillside with the fawn in front of me, I thought about how past memories cycle through you and pick up riders of new memories as they pass. I have never forgotten the little fawn from my childhood but now the memories of this one are linked to it.
Twice I have had the joy of watching what may be my favorite “National Geographic Moments” at the Ferry. The first time I was working in the cabin when I happen to glance out the window, my eye caught by movement on the hillside. A fawn and a wild turkey gobbler were engaged in what I first took to be a kind of faceoff. As I watched, the scenario became a dance duet. The fawn would move toward the turkey with an exaggerated high stepping stalk. The turkey then spread its tail feathers, shaking them at the fawn and moving toward it with mincing steps. At which point, the fawn would prance side-to-side, dancing backward several steps. The fawn advanced once more and the turkey shuffled right and left as it retreated with rippling tail feathers. This duet was repeated with minor variations in choreography for more than a quarter of an hour before the fawn scampered off to join her mother, leaving the turkey without a dance partner. Several years later I saw a similar dance reenacted down in the orchard but of course, with a different cast.
We do not miss having television in the wilderness. Each spring we look forward to the antics and frolics of the Whitetail fawns at Campbell’s Ferry. Each year we watch them grow into yearlings, then, year after year, into mature deer that bring their offspring to entertain us for another season. The Ferry Serengeti live performances continue to receive rave reviews from the limited audience.