Too Much Nature
Other than my 12 years in Boston and 1 year in Seattle, I've always lived in the country with plenty of opportunity to observe wildlife. In all that time, I had only heard a deer vocalize once. I was floating on a Yellowstone slough and heard a deer on the bank give an airy snort as we passed by.
Have you ever heard a deer scream? I have. Twice. This year.
Scream #1:
About a month ago, I woke up at 4:30 am to a screaming/bleating noise outside followed by a rustling, whirring noise. I immediately thought of the fawns we had frequently seen around the house over the past couple months - a set of twins and a singleton - and of our abundant coyote population. I was wide awake with my heart beating fast, so I got up to investigate. The sky was just starting to brighten with the rising sun. To the east, there was a fawn laying in the grass. To the north, a fawn standing alone. No doe. I watched for a while not knowing what happened to the doe and wondering where the coyotes were. I was fearful that there may have been several coyotes working together, with one or more luring the doe away while others waited for an opportunity to attack the unprotected fawns. After watching for a bit, the doe came running back to the eastern fawn. I never saw a doe reunite with the fawn to the north and they all eventually disappeared, leaving me with more questions than answers. My speculation is that a coyote approached a fawn, it screamed, and then the doe chased it away. I was hopeful the fawns were okay. About a week later, we saw a doe with twins and so apparently, the deer won. But what actually happened, I guess we'll never know.
Scream #2:
Last week, we were eating dinner when we heard coyotes howl. It's unusual to hear them howl in daylight so I got up to see what was going on, particularly in light of the earlier incident. Just then, a fawn went racing past the house crying, while a coyote followed on its heels! The fawn sounded somewhat like a goat crossed with a crow (due to the periodic nature of the bleating). I then saw another coyote in the distance; I sent Mike out to chase the second one away, but it was gone by the time he got there. The second fawn then went running by the house, but it wasn't being chased. About 5 minutes later, I saw the doe walking in the direction of the chase (presumably following a scent?). 20 minutes after that, I heard the coyotes howl again. This time I wasn't very hopeful. That coyote was right behind that little fawn. Mike decided to go out looking for any "evidence" of what had happened. He walked out into the woods in the direction of the chance and spent about 15 minutes looking and listening, but came back without much additional info. The incident ruined my whole evening and Anders was quite upset as well. I don't think he saw anything but responded to our reactions, associating danger with the coyote howling.
A couple of days later, I saw a doe but no fawns. Was this the same doe? I should have paid more attention to them all so I can tell them apart. Using the binoculars, I could see that this doe has a scar above her left front leg and is definitely a mother. Finally, four days later, I saw this same doe with twin fawns. They had survived the incident! I really thought that one was a goner.
The day after I experienced the Scream #2 incident, on my drive to town I passed a deer that had just been hit. It was laying in the road, head up, breathing but legs busted. (There were people stopped and presumably taking care of the situation.)
This is just too much of the ugly side of nature. It reminded me of something our landlord had said to us when we first moved to the Gorge: "Living in the country is all about death!". I don't prescribe to that perspective, but it's not an untruth. Time to go back to Boston? Not yet, but please, no more screaming.
- Corinne, Mike, Anders Rocket, and Mother Nature
