It has been difficult for me to look out the back for the deer that feed in the bald spot of my yard where I put corn most nights. The three-footed, palomino-colored doe, that seemed to have twins almost every year, was hit by a car in March. I was visiting my parents and my husband called with the news. Our young friend Vince, who feeds the deer and raccoons when we are away, confirmed it was her. He, who used to tease me about hunting deer in my woods while I was away, won’t even broach the subject of this loss with me, knowing how I marveled at her ability to get around, especially when she was heavy with foal.
She went from being chased away by older females with babies, as a juvenile in 2005, when we first moved to Evansridge, to being the alpha female of her little herd. I lost track of her babies once they were no longer yearlings, but the females always bring their fawns to feed at the site in the back. Occasionally, her boys would show, small, adolescent racks crowning their still young heads.
I know in the circle of life, there is a beginning and an end. We have been reminded of that a lot this year. I have been blessed with her presence for almost seven years. I watched her bring her babies to feed, so they would know where to bring the next generation of babies. Evansridge will be less it’s matriarch, but I think I know which one of her daugthers is going to rule the heard next. If I’m right, she’s a huge tan colored beauty and a fitting tribute to her mother.