Mending a Fawn

The deer in the headlights froze, a wild and startled expression on his face, and Johnny turned the wheel and hit the brakes with a curse. In the next second the magnificent animal had bolted over the ditch and into the woods, leaving us shaken, grateful, and half off the road by the near miss. While we were catching our breath, a second buck and then a third crossed, swiftly graceful and delicate. A doe and a fawn then emerged together, were caught momentarily in the headlights, then disappeared into the trees. There hadn't been a sound except for the hoofbeats on the newly paved stretch of road and even that had been muted and almost supernatural. Exasperated, Johnny got out, inspected the car for damage, and then stood listening - there were night sounds - a faraway owl, the foghorn, rustling leaves and the sound of water. Abruptly he told me to cut the engine and when I did the night sounds included a small but steady cry I'd never heard before. He reached for a flashlight and signaling me to follow began to walk into the woods, stepping slowly and carefully. Instinctively I knew not to speak even as the darkness closed in around us. The woods smelled damp and piney and we found the fawn just a few yards in, lying on her side with one leg at an impossible angle and bleating pitifully. She tried to run but faltered and fell, yelping in pain and fear. Stay with her, Johnny told me in a whisper, talk to her. Try and keep her quiet. I did as he told me, speaking to her in a low voice and keeping my distance, being as still as I could. She looked terribly frightened, frail, small and helpless and nearly invisible among the leaves and underbrush. She tried to stand but the shattered leg collapsed and she went down in heap, breathing heavily and wild eyed. Not knowing what else to do, I crept closer and reached out a hand and placed it gently on her flank and began to stroke her, all the while continuing to talk to her softly. She pulled away from me but made no other move to escape. It's a clean break, Johnny said from behind me, but we'll have to move her carefully. He had found a small tree limb and I watched in awe as he splinted her leg and wrapped his belt around it then took off his jacket and easily slid her onto it and up into his arms. He laid her on the back seat and covered her with an old blanket then climbed in beside her putting one hand on her belly and one firmly on her neck. Reckon we'll have to wake Miss Rowena, he told me softly, You drive. Go easy.

When the engine started, the fawn heaved and thrashed but Johnny held her firmly, talking all the while to her in a

singsong, soft tone, reciting whatever he could think of and keeping her still - there were snatches of Bible verses,

the alphabet, the names and birth orders of his brothers and sisters, song lyrics. The four or five mile drive seemed endless and when we finally reached Miss Rowena's it was close to midnight but she was waiting on the front porch in her rocking chair, a shawl over her shoulders and a shotgun in her lap. She hushed the dogs with a word and led us into the barn where we made the fawn a bed in a stall, wrapped the leg in a warm poultice and re-splinted it. Under her hands, the small animal was quiet and I saw a look of trust in her eyes as she listened to Rowena's voice and allowed herself to be stroked and comforted. We left her there, nearly asleep with her head resting in Rowena's lap, sheltered and warm and sucking on a bottle of milk.

The summer was a healing one and the fawn mended and grew strong, healthy and confident. Her spots were replaced with a rich, carmel colored coat and her baby animal face became that of a grown doe, elegant and proud with exquisite dark eyes and a playful nature. She became another member of Rowena's flock and blended easily with the dogs and cats and wild things that came and went on the small farm. Now and again she would wander into the thicket and disappear for several days - to visit with her own kind, Rowena reckoned - but she always returned and there was always a place for her. Small kindnesses are often repaid many times over.