She wandered into our pasture on June 24, calling, presumably, for her mother, who would never call back. She was tiny and spotted, searching for security in the safety net that would be my herd of horses.
Unfortunately for the little orphan (Annie, but one isn’t supposed to name wildlife, so I haven’t) fawn, Rusty, Chicago and Biskit were too panicked by her presence to even consider the possibility of foster care. Though I suspect Biskit would enjoy the opportunity to act as a big brother or a young uncle, he is at the mercy of his equine elders, and Rusty demonstrates no inclination to grant either citizenship or political asylum to the newcomer.
Meanwhile, she appears several times a day to graze on the clover blossoms, inching her way closer to the Big Boys, building tiny bits of trust in both directions.
Twice now, I’ve opened the barn door for morning feeding to find her grazing at the front of the pasture nearest the barn, maybe 20 feet away. She lifts her head to acknowledge my presence, then loses interest and continues her breakfast. Dragging the muck bucket behind me down the alley bothers her not at all – apparently Rusty has managed to communicate from a distance that I am merely the maintenance man, and therefore, no threat. Just file me under “Necessary Irritation”.
Last Sunday brought a little breakthrough though, as she actually approached me while I stood in the alley talking to a friend on the phone. I took a couple of photos, wishing I could capture this wondrous event in moving pictures, then remembered that the same phone that takes pictures will also shoot video. Have I mentioned that I’m a slow processor?
I managed to find my way to the video camera settings, mostly by memory, as I was without glasses, which adds to my challenge of manipulating tiny technological tools. Then I recorded nearly five minutes of fawn footage, stopped the recording and closed the phone. Without pressing “Save”. See last sentence of previous paragraph.
In retrospect, the filming failure may have been fortuitous, as the action that will now never be made available to the viewing public is that of my little forest friend, cute as can be, walking directly toward me, looking me squarely in the eye, shaking her head and stomping her feet. Repeatedly.
Even the wildlife gives me attitude.
From Four Sticks Farm 