One of the funniest sights I have ever witnessed is the scene-straight-out-of-a-cartoon-movie; a game of tag by the twin fawns.
Many evenings, after 8:30, I catch a glimpse of something running on the grass, and it's normally the kidz in the middle of a game.
They look very much like puppies having fun, chasing each other then running away and back again.
They run around the yard in the old orchard, around the greenhouse and garden, and up the little hill to the maple, or into the brush alongside the river. They come together, little mouths hanging open and tongues showing, facing each other, catching a breath.
Then, one will leap straight up, kicking heels, pirouette mid-air, and hit the ground running once again.
Within seconds the other will give chase or run in the opposite direction, bounding to cross paths beyond the greenhouse and finally come to rest in the shade or alongside their Momma to catch their breath again.
Often at this point, one will try to nurse, which Momma won't allow. She'll sniff a rear-end or two, and inspect an ear or 3, then move onto a new branch to chew.
As she wanders across the property, I can just hear her words - "Come on, you two! Keep up with me, or that lady following us with her camera will have you for dinner! Let's go!"
At the same time, the kidz are listening to me talk loudly and inviting them to come closer.
Occasionally they take a couple more steps toward me, looking at me with head lowered and ears forward, wondering again whether I have another apple to entice them to pose. So far I've managed to get to about 12 feet before Momma says something, then the kidz start their game of tag once more.
I wish I could hear her. There's no sound from Momma, yet there's obviously some communication. She keeps a close eye on me, and I believe she started toward me a couple of times when I was getting too close to the kidz. I wouldn't want to entangle those sharp little hooves, nor a protective mother's wrath.
As they wander off to the next juicy plants in the shade I wave goodbye, and bid farewell; see you tomorrow evening. Take care crossing the road!
Sandra
Many evenings, after 8:30, I catch a glimpse of something running on the grass, and it's normally the kidz in the middle of a game.
They look very much like puppies having fun, chasing each other then running away and back again.
They run around the yard in the old orchard, around the greenhouse and garden, and up the little hill to the maple, or into the brush alongside the river. They come together, little mouths hanging open and tongues showing, facing each other, catching a breath.
Then, one will leap straight up, kicking heels, pirouette mid-air, and hit the ground running once again.
Within seconds the other will give chase or run in the opposite direction, bounding to cross paths beyond the greenhouse and finally come to rest in the shade or alongside their Momma to catch their breath again.
Often at this point, one will try to nurse, which Momma won't allow. She'll sniff a rear-end or two, and inspect an ear or 3, then move onto a new branch to chew.
As she wanders across the property, I can just hear her words - "Come on, you two! Keep up with me, or that lady following us with her camera will have you for dinner! Let's go!"
At the same time, the kidz are listening to me talk loudly and inviting them to come closer.
Occasionally they take a couple more steps toward me, looking at me with head lowered and ears forward, wondering again whether I have another apple to entice them to pose. So far I've managed to get to about 12 feet before Momma says something, then the kidz start their game of tag once more.
I wish I could hear her. There's no sound from Momma, yet there's obviously some communication. She keeps a close eye on me, and I believe she started toward me a couple of times when I was getting too close to the kidz. I wouldn't want to entangle those sharp little hooves, nor a protective mother's wrath.
As they wander off to the next juicy plants in the shade I wave goodbye, and bid farewell; see you tomorrow evening. Take care crossing the road!
Sandra
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