The last few days I've felt a bit like I'm on vacation, hiding out in paradise. Only thing is Paul still has to work, but for most of the next three weeks he and I are house-sitting for friends who live in Cedar Hills, on the banks of the Animas River, about 25 minutes north of my sister’s home.
The house sits on 3 1/2 acres of green hill, the river flowing full and fast at the base. There is fruit on the fruit trees, grapes on the vine, a vegetable garden, and lots of wildlife to enjoy; doves on the telephone line, woodpeckers in the apple trees, ducks in the shallows down at the river, cute little rabbits trying to get under the garden fence (umm, maybe not so cute, actually), and dozens of hummingbirds flittering and sipping from the feeders at the kitchen window. And deer.
When we arrived we found a note on the kitchen table informing us, among other important property management tidbits, that a doe had been spotted with twin fawns. At lunch yesterday I saw the three of them; Mama with every muscle tense and protective of the two beautiful babies standing at her side.
In the afternoon she tucked the babies out of sight among the tall grasses to sleep the afternoon heat away. She spent a good part of those hours in the yard eating tender green crab apples that had fallen from a tree. Inside the house I passed by the window and noticed her on the other side--just a few feet from me. She initially startled, gave me a long, hard stare, and then went back to munching. She must have realized that she's relatively safe with a pane of glass between us. Later when I passed by the window I saw that she was still there, but upon closer inspection I realized that it was actually a young buck that had taken her place, his antlers small knobby nubs between his big ears. He, too, seemed to realize that the window between us kept him safe.
In late afternoon I saw them again; the buck on the lawn by the driveway, the doe on the opposite side of the house in the grass by the picnic table. A slight movement caught my eye and I spotted the twins popping up over the rise and out of the bushes by the drainage ditch. They stood there quivering and frightened--all luscious caramel and marshmallow spots--looking toward the doe. Waiting . . . waiting . . . for Mama's okay. She raised her head. Instantly both babies bolted forward across the yard to meet her, misjudging their speed and barreling right into her, bringing her front legs to her knees. For a moment there was a wild confusion of legs and heads as the doe fought to regain her balance and the twins fought each other for the best suckling position. And I, safe behind the pane of window glass, laughed.
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