An Encounter of the Four-Footed Kind

The weather here has been unseasonably warm and sunny for early November, so the other day I decided to take my cartooning outdoors.

We’re living with my in-laws at the moment, and although they live in a busy suburb, they have a deep backyard surrounded by a small wood, and their yard receives visits from a variety of wildlife, including white-tailed deer. Living out in the country as I have for the last few years, I am used to mainly seeing deer grazing in a field from a distance. The only time you see them up close (if you aren’t a hunter) is if they are about to become the cause of an insurance claim.

These suburban deer are quite a different story. They don’t stick to the wood, but amble freely through yards, ravaging flower gardens and sunbathing on front lawns. A car, a person or a dog has to get pretty close before they become concerned, and even then, they run only a few feet, maybe just over the next property line. I have remarked to my husband that it would be a tough sell to explain to the insurance company that a deer hit us in our driveway, but it could happen.

I set myself up on the swinging bench in the back corner of the yard, and was soon absorbed in adding color to the cartoon for our Christmas card. After a while I heard a rustling in the dried leaves nearby, and looked up, expecting to see a squirrel. Instead, there was a doe behind the framed-in blueberry bushes at the edge of the yard. She looked as startled as I felt–either she hadn’t realized that I was there, or she hadn’t thought that I would move.

I could have jumped up and scared her off, since she had come to snack on my in-laws’ garden, but I found her appealing. She hadn’t run away, and I had never been this close to a wild deer before. We played peek-a-boo over the back of the bench for a few minutes. She seemed curious about me, and took a few cautious steps forward to get a better look.

I know you aren’t supposed to approach wildlife, they don’t seem to know that they’re supposed to reciprocate. I started talking to her, thinking the sound of my voice would send her off. It did make her sidle away to the edge of the yard at first, but she seemed to like the sound of my voice, and came around the back of the bushes to stand in front of me.

She bobbed her head up and down to look me over, and I did much the same. She was larger than I had expected, and so pretty. It was tempting to reach out a hand and see what she would do. She was quite at her ease, ambling back and forth around the little artificial pond in front of the bench, and even taking a drink while I looked on. She was also slowly edging herself closer to me, especially whenever I started talking to her.

When she started to nibble at the garden plants, I decided I should probably warn her off. I shifted on the seat, and tapped my clipboard against it a few times. She looked up, surprised, and seemed to be thinking about coming over to investigate, until I started waving my clipboard in her direction. She was still unconcerned, but decided that I would carry my point, and sauntered away to the other corner of the yard. She browsed among a pile of brush for a while, and eventually disappeared into the wood.