I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.
AND ALSO THE WOODS HAS REALLY FREAKING CUTE FAWNS.
It's June at Holden, and the does are giving birth. I spent a few days being unduly mad because everyone was seeing the fawns except me, but in the past few days, I've seen my share. One frisking about mum's legs on the lawn below Lodge 1, puppy-sized and awkward. And two this morning as I ran west -- I had only just passed the wash-out when I came across a doe with two fawns, days old, the pair of them, staring at me from around her knees. A word about my mornings. Yes, I run, and I use the Hart Lake trail, and I pass the foot bridge and Middle Earth and get a few steps up that really unforgiving hill just before the lake itself, and then turn around and jog back to the Village. This takes 90 minutes altogether, and I was really proud of that and figured I was the only person in the world who could do it, until I overheard Mark Schwehn explaining exactly the same running route to Fred Niedner. So I've only lately joined the fit-Valpo-professors club; I was deflated, but maybe I should go back to being proud about this.
I digress. Cute fawns.
This morning I had the luck to come across one when I had my camera with me. She was behaving instinctively: mothers often leave their fawns alone, even for hours at a time, while they go and feed, and in the meanwhile the fawn knows to curl up into a tight little ball and wait quietly in the grass. The goal here is not to attract a bear, who would -- welcome to nature kids -- find an easy helping of protein. The mother always comes back, too, as long as there isn't a crowd of humans blocking her child. Which is why I only took the one photo, and then headed off to Fred's bible study.
AND ALSO THE WOODS HAS REALLY FREAKING CUTE FAWNS.
It's June at Holden, and the does are giving birth. I spent a few days being unduly mad because everyone was seeing the fawns except me, but in the past few days, I've seen my share. One frisking about mum's legs on the lawn below Lodge 1, puppy-sized and awkward. And two this morning as I ran west -- I had only just passed the wash-out when I came across a doe with two fawns, days old, the pair of them, staring at me from around her knees. A word about my mornings. Yes, I run, and I use the Hart Lake trail, and I pass the foot bridge and Middle Earth and get a few steps up that really unforgiving hill just before the lake itself, and then turn around and jog back to the Village. This takes 90 minutes altogether, and I was really proud of that and figured I was the only person in the world who could do it, until I overheard Mark Schwehn explaining exactly the same running route to Fred Niedner. So I've only lately joined the fit-Valpo-professors club; I was deflated, but maybe I should go back to being proud about this.
I digress. Cute fawns.
This morning I had the luck to come across one when I had my camera with me. She was behaving instinctively: mothers often leave their fawns alone, even for hours at a time, while they go and feed, and in the meanwhile the fawn knows to curl up into a tight little ball and wait quietly in the grass. The goal here is not to attract a bear, who would -- welcome to nature kids -- find an easy helping of protein. The mother always comes back, too, as long as there isn't a crowd of humans blocking her child. Which is why I only took the one photo, and then headed off to Fred's bible study.
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