A Girl and Her Deer

My baby girl is what we call an 80/20 person.  If she's 80% sure a decision is the right one, she's comfortable with the 20% risk.  She's quick and decisive, sometimes impulsive, often tangential, tenacious, and thoughtful.  

Inspired by an idea, she'll immediately fling herself into a new activity, and she rarely needs time to regroup or assess anything.  Beep rarely hesitates and is nearly always convinced she's right.  About everything.  

Her way of being is not mine.  I'm a 99/1 person.  I come to decisions more deliberately, need time to examine them from every angle, and assess the pros and cons.  Still, I don't find her way of being entirely foreign.  I get her.  Even when I can't intellectualize her feelings to understand my most productive response, at a molecular level, I understand.  I do spend a lot of time thinking about her, and her wonderfully agile mind, her swinging moods and her growing needs.  I certainly don't always know how to best parent my three-year-old, but I still feel a molecular assurance in the way we relate.   

I suspect as she grows and learns we'll see her toddler-fueled impulsiveness fade to spontaneity and her penchant for mental side trips replaced with a drive and focus for the task at hand.  

Most revealing to me are her quieter moments, when she maintains an intense concentration for long periods of time.  A favorite activity right now is assembling puzzles. She prefers to begin with all the pieces face down, then  turn each piece over one at a time and quickly fit it in place.  She becomes absolutely absorbed and will continue as long as the puzzle lasts. 

Beep is finding the world to be a large and fascinating one.  She loves the sky, the moon, the trees and animals.  She's understanding how to predict weather by the heaviness of the clouds, and she looks for colors in the sunset and satellites in the night sky.  She delights in finding the moon in the afternoon and is mulling over the root system of trees.  Our animals are much loved (and very bossed around), and Tabor is her special friend.

Several days ago our resident doe, Tabor, gave birth to her baby (babies?).  Since then our little deer has been staying close to the house as is her custom following birth.  For whatever reason, Tabor is always tolerant of Beep's flailing, running, and screeching approaches.  Even when she's feeling skittish and Cabbage and I can't get close to her, Tabor will usually let Beep pet her back, pat her head, and even rub her ears.  They have some kind of understanding.  I remember when I realized Beep and Sam had their own relationship.

Beep understands Tabor has a new baby and is excited to see the fawn.  She is, however, surprisingly patient with the idea of waiting to see the baby.  This is helpful as fawns are usually kept hidden for some time, so we often must wait days or weeks to see the new crop of babies. 

When Tabor came wandering by the other day, she settled in the yard just outside our front window.  Beep was playing inside and watched her for a few minutes while she continued with her game.  Finally, though, she gave in to the allure of some time spent with her deer.  She abandoned her toys, climbed onto the living room trunk and communed.         

Along the Lantana

This gorgeous lantana plant was blooming alongside the barn the other day.

A few feet away, as she does nearly every night, Tabor brought her babies by for dinner.

That night she had two babies with her.  Sometimes we see her with one baby, sometimes two, and sometimes... even three.  We believe Tabor has two fawns, and occasionally babysits an extra.  But it is possible she had triplets (fertilemuch?) and has been fooling us all along.

In any event she's proving to be an excellent mother this time around, just as in the past.

I'd like to take a little credit for that, but really I never could give her much help with deer mothering.  Take, for example, this old photo. 



I mean, is it really useful for her to learn to let me kiss her?  Probably not.

Despite my best efforts to corrupt her, she's obviously figured out the whole Deer Thing, though, as her babies are big, strong, and frisky.

It's good to know I can be an utter failure in Deer Maternal Behavior 101 and everything still turns out okay. 

In a related turn of events, Beep is now grunting and beeping deer sounds at her discretion.  So there appears to be some bleedover of deer education.  This skill may make kindergarten interesting, but whatever.  You win some, you lose some.

It's Twins!

Twins for Tabor, that is!

Not for me... No thank you.  One person per person, please.

Tabor, who was until recently kicking up her heels in the wide open yonder, returned home just in time.  She gave birth to two healthy fawns on Friday, which just happened to be my birthday! 

Cabbage told me she'd had the babies when her (formerly bulging and squirming) belly was empty Saturday morning.  She showed up at the barn during feeding time, ravenous and wanting attention.  As always, it was great to see she'd delivered safely.  Then we started the waiting game to anticipate when she'd bring her babies within sight, which we didn't expect to be for a week or two.  As with most deer, Tabor prefers to hide her babies somewhere safe, then come out to feed herself. 

This year, though, she gave me a special Mother's Day treat by bringing them by on Mother's Day!  Although just two days old they are strong and healthy, and just like their older siblings have white spots near their noses.  They're unbelievably cute!!! 

Beep was napping so she'll have to see them another time... but Cabbage and I were quite close and felt very fortunate Tabor decided to share her fawns with us.  We don't try to touch them as we're not trying to imprint them, though my fingers almost tingle with the memory of Tabor's tiny spindly legs and smooth, glossy spotted coat.  

Seeing the new fawns was my favorite Mother's Day gift this year!  Sorry Cabbage! :)

 Tabor with both babies (just beyond the wire fence)

 Fawn with Mama walking to the right

Fawn curled up at Mama's hind feet

Below is a video of Tabor walking away with the babies in tow (picture Cabbage and me gleefully holding our breaths and resisting the urge to hug and squeeze them).  At the beginning of the video, listen for Tabor's gutteral croak calling her fawns.  Enjoy!



A Fence for Tabor

After almost two months of seeing our doe, Tabor, only on the wrong side of our property line, she is finally home.

As an aside, I think I have a greater appreciation for what Amish parents must go through when their kids leave for their rumspringa. 

So what I'm saying is, Tabor may be Amish. 

Anyway, over the past weeks her band of fairweather friends moved on (I told her it would never last/they weren't any good for her/we knew better).  She wandered the property in back of Cabbage Ranch, usually by herself.  She seemed fine and as her belly grew larger with her baby she visited more frequently.

As time passed she allowed closer contact and eventually Cabbage was able to feed her from his hand again, then pet her.  Within the last week my toddler, Beep, and I were able to visit with her at feeding time, and I was reassured that she was still the same sweet little deer.  Tabor was happy to be petted, happy to eat corn from our hands, and even tolerated Beep's hollering, baby pats on her forehead, and bucket-shaking antics.  That made me all the more certain she was ready and able to come back home. 

Our back fenceline stretches long and tight, paneled with wire and without a single gate.  Tabor has never been confident in her jumping abilities, but that's been especially true since she injured a hind leg two years ago and suffered some permanent tendon damage.  Jumping the fence wasn't a safe option for her, and she was still refusing to cross the fence where Cabbage had lowered it.  There, it was plenty low enough for her to hop over but she was wary of it... She's a deer.

Finally, on Saturday evening, we stood along the back fenceline as I fed and stroked Tabor.  I looked at the lowered fence, then at Tabor, and back at the fence.  Cabbage knew what I was thinking, and chuckled.  But I resisted the temptation to try to shove her over it, knowing she was very fast and strong, and my odds of success were about nil. 

I asked about putting a gate in, or cutting the fence, or... something... "Can't we just help her out?  She seems ready to come home."

Cabbage had obviously been thinking the same thing.  He ran through a few options that would allow us to create an opening in the fenceline without compromising the whole dang stretch of wire, and finally hit on an idea that made sense to him.

Sunday morning we headed to Lowes, got supplies, and he got busy sawing and drilling and clamping.  Beep and I napped, because I'm a good helper like that and on the weekends I have the sleep schedule of a toddler. 

When he was done, Cabbage had made a sturdy little braced frame just wide enough for a deer to walk through.  Once it was installed he cut the fence and bound it back to the frame.  The deer portal was ready.

Two hours later Tabor came up for her feeding and happily wandered through.  She was back on Cabbage Ranch.  She had, perhaps, been waiting for a gate all along.

We're a little slow, but we catch on eventually. 

Now we are just letting Tabor settle back in, get reacquainted with her two-year old daughter, Abby, and relax before she has her fawn(s).  We hope she'll stay and fall easily back into her old routines, but if she ever does need help getting back through the fenceline again, we now have her little doorway.  It's a fence built for Tabor.        

 Cabbage's fence brace along the back property line

The fence brace (closed with a piece of wire panel) after Tabor came home 

 Do you see our little deer in this picture?

 Beep is happy to have Tabor home, too

The End (for now)

Waiting for Tabor

I crouch low and swat at the fly buzzing around my head.  Shaking the box of Nilla Wafers, I peer through the brush and croak a hopeful "Eeeep?" 

In response she licks her lips, meanders parallel, and moves away a step.  My eyes follow four dainty cloven hooves mincing noiselessly through the web of undergrowth.

"Taaaaborrrrr!  C'mere, Tabor.  Want a cookie?"

Shake, shake.

From behind me comes a breathy little voice "Ma-ma!" Beep is watching from Cabbage's arms at the fenceline.

"Hi, Baby.  Mama's talking to Tabor.  See the deer? Eeee-eeep!  Eeeee-eeep!"  Come on, Tabor.  Come take a cookie.

I can see her there, with her doppelganger sisterhood.  The others warily pick their way through brush and around trees with one eye on me.  She, however, studiously ignores me.  She's part of the in-crowd now, and I am the interloper. 

I decide I don't like Tabor's new ringleader.  The doe is tall and thin, and she regards me with a suspicious air.  She stays between me and her band of lady-deer, convincing them she's the boldest.  But I know she'd be the first to race away, leave them unprotected, save herself and desert my Tabor with her scarred leg, her damaged tendons. 

Don't fall for her, Tabor.  Come home. 

I see you, my Beep-Beep.  I see you there, picking your way around and through the land in back of Cabbage Ranch.  I'm glad you're having fun, but it's been a week.  You're going to have a baby.  There are coyotes out there and you can't run as fast, jump as high, or survive as well as the others.  Let them do their thing and take their chances.  Come home.

Shake, shake. 

She wanders further away and I throw some cookies out, along the fence where Cabbage has been leaving water and corn.  We will feed them all rather than see her go hungry.  The wire fence is pushed down low enough for our sweet little Tabor to hop over it easily, even with her imperfect leg.  I don't think she will.  She's too busy asserting her independence.

In some ways I'm really okay with Tabor finding her own way, but my beloved has a soft heart and a worried look in his eye.  He looked for her for days before his first sighting, which was gleefully texted to me with a photo and many exclamation marks.  I know he'll use his persuasive powers (and corn) to keep her coming back daily, and when the time is right he'll coax or carry her back over the fence. 

But as I watch her fade away, I know today isn't that day.  I stand, and close the box of cookies, and walk to the gate.  I take Beep from Cabbage and point to the white legs now barely visible in the lowering night. 

"See the deer, Baby?  Her name was Beep before it was yours.  That's what we called Tabor when she was a baby like you.  Call for Tabor."
The baby's high voice rings true through the cooling night air "Taborrrrrr! Corrrrn!"
"Good job.  Bring her home."

Above us, the night turns cerulean blue and my baby points to the sky and says, "Moon?"

The moon has her face tilted and partially hidden, as if resting wearily in her hand. 

"Yes, Baby.  That's the moon."

A Very Muddy Christmas

Remember this summer, when I was convinced it would never rain again? 

I was wrong. 

It's been raining here, off and on, for the past couple of weeks.  We are so incredibly grateful.  We are also so very muddy.  The drought this summer wiped out all the grass, and the rainfall runs everywhere and soaks the bare earth.  It's not cold enough to freeze the ground, or to freeze the precipitation, so it just works into the vulnerable bare earth and becomes a slick, gummy mess.  Words really fail me here, so instead I'll just show you.  By the time I took these pictures we were starting to dry out- and then it rained more and it got even worse- but you'll get the idea.

(And as I do so, allow me to remind you I grew up in the Midwest, where this time of year brings blankets of pristine white snow, frosty grass underfoot, frozen outdoor ice rinks, and sledding.  Got your mental image?)

 Beep didn't let mud stop her from feeding her deer.

Stop! In the name of love...

The other day, Junior spent some time hanging out while Cabbage stripped his stall.  He's looking good these days, though he's still on rest following his surgery in July.

The front of Junior's big stall is a pen open to the sky... as evidenced by the muddy morass it's become.  Cabbage has been layering it with straw and sprinkling lime powder on it in an effort to dry it out a little.  The mess laughs at Cabbage.  I heard it.  It's evil.

Obviously, boots are required footwear around here these days. 

I won't show you pictures of our mud room, but let's just say it's aptly named. I'm on strike from cleaning the floors until the mud dries up, or we grow old, retire, and sell the place to move to Boca Raton.  Whichever comes first.

Goodbye from the mud pits.

The Original Beep

We have a herd of deer who choose to live on Cabbage Ranch.  Over the past four years, we've watched the herd evolve, watched deer come and go, and watched our doe, Tabor, grow up and become a mother.

She was once a tiny fawn.

We named her after Baby Doe Tabor, the scandalous wife of a silver mining magnate in 19th century Colorado.

Tabor grew and thrived, entertained us and taught us much.

She required a tremendous amount of care, and I actually don't recommend raising a deer fawn.  As wonderful as she has been, I believe that raising a deer the right way is a full-time job. 

At the time, I was working from home, so I made it work... but it was very demanding.  It was a relief when Tabor was older and self-sufficient. 

My goal was always to allow her to make her own deer choices, and I'm proud of the way she's assimilated.  It is Tabor's choice to continue to live on Cabbage Ranch, and I am very grateful she has decided to stick around.  She has been a joy in our lives. 

Two years ago, at two years of age, Tabor had her first baby, a buck we called Sunny.  When Sunny was old enough, he struck out on his own.  We've seen him a few times since and assume he is off living his bachelor existence.

Last year, about the time I had Beep, Tabor had twins- a girl and a boy. 

We called the girl Abby and the boy C.D.  They are carbon copies of their pretty mother, although now C.D. is sportin' a nice set of antlers.  Abby is so like her mother that they are hard to tell apart sometimes.  That's always a bit disconcerting... it's like not being able to tell your own children apart. 

Both Abby and C.D. still live here, although it's just a matter of time until C.D. leaves to live his own life.

Abby herself became a mother this year which means Tabor is a grandmother.  Tabor also had another set of twins this spring, who are growing big and strong.  She always has the most beautiful babies, with shapely heads and darker coloring than the rest of the whitetails around here.  But we're not biased. ;)

Left to right: Abby, Tabor, 2011 twins, and an unrelated doe (the granddaughter of a 2007 orphaned doe we discovered living on our place when we bought it.  Her name was Charlotte, and she left a couple of years ago).

Tabor is very sweet with Beep.

We are teaching our baby to love our deer, provide for her, and respect her.

I know many of you have asked about the nicknames we give each other and our animals, so I'll leave you with this... 

When Tabor was tiny, she would vocalize in little, high-pitched squeaks that we called "beeps."  Her nickname quickly became Beep, and all babies soon afterward became referred to as Beeps.

When I became pregnant with our baby, we started calling our unborn child Baby Beep, and Beep is still the name she goes by at home.

Tabor, the mother of four lovely deer, and grandmother to two, is now called The Original Beep.