by Catherine Sampson
While away doing the horse show
thing in late June one of the farm's boarders discovered a wee fawn lying in the tall grass at the fringe
of our woodland property. They decided to leave the fawn for the moment on advice of one zoo, but
returned the following day only to find it was still there. With all good
intentions of saving it from harm's way, especially since we were about to cut
the hay fields, they cradled the tiny fawn in their arms and brought it home to
their city dwelling. They placed it in the confines of their kitchen until they could figure out where to find a suitable zoo or animal welfare agency to take him. None was forthcoming.
After a week of desperation and regular intense feedings in rather crowded
quarters, the farm was contacted and asked if they could take the fawn until a
suitable home could be found for the "abandoned" little one. Their
attempts to find a rescue organization was fruitless. When it was learned that
the deer was a buck I jokingly finished a conversation, asking the family to
"take good care of Bucki" hence the name stuck. After consulting with a veterinarian
concerning any disease which a deer
might carry that could affect horses, the farm agreed to keep the diminutive
16" fawn on an interim basis. So life began anew at the self-proclaimed temporary
wildlife orphanage better known as the Trillium Morgan Horse Farm.
The general suspicion was that
the fawn was not abandoned but simply the result of a misguided, but well
meaning "kidnapping" (a term used by animal rescue personnel). During that same period a young doe had been
spotted on a daily basis in close proximity to the discovery site so it was presumed
that the baby was hers. Eventually, the doe moved on leaving Bucki totally
dependent on human kindness for his very survival.
Now the monumental task at hand
was for the well being of this young deer while searching for an appropriate
home. What to do?
First priority was to establish
a volunteer group of foster moms to handle the demanding feeding routine of
this newborn fawn. A schedule was quickly drawn up with feedings dedicated at
four hour intervals. For the first while finding volunteers wasn't a problem
but as the month passed by it was evident that more foster moms were needed in
order to maintain the feverish feeding timetable Bucki required. By word and
mouth, trying to keep a low profile as not to exploit the young deer with
curiosity seekers, the farm recruited others to help out. Bucki grew and grew
under the constant eyes and attention of his care givers and the company of
Morgan horses.
No one had ever had the inclination
or opportunity to raise a deer before so the frenzied search for information on
"Cervidae" began in earnest. This was the infancy of the internet so
finding credible advice was scarce. Through libraries and in conversation with
deer farms and zoos these sources produced some insight. With the farm's
knowledge of raising foals, this too was added to the stash of applied deer
management. But it was Bucki himself who taught us about Bucki. He showed us
his alien habits which of course are quite normal for a deer; he showed us what
food stuffs he preferred and how we were to communicate with him through
posture and deer language, sort of mimicking "the road runner" beeps.
Talk about linguistic barriers!
On his outside adventures
restrained by a cat harness, Bucki took
a shine to the old Morgan stallion, Foxy. With "David and Goliath" muzzles meeting, Foxy blew
typical warm horse greetings into Bucki's inquisitive reaching nose. Bucki
quickly retreated from the acquaintance. Yet, day-after-day he would steal a glance of unquenched curiosity as he silently tip toed
by the old horse's paddock carefully avoiding that big wind in the face.
Then came the day when Bucki
found some meager semblance of freedom. He was introduced to the expanse of the
indoor arena. He would quickly learned that this was playtime!!
Dutifully, he would follow his
foster mom passing the horses in cross ties focusing warily on the barn cats
and dogs before entering into the arena. He was a stand up comedian,
entertaining on all four long reaching legs. Speedier than the swiftest racehorse,
quicker than the fast twitch of a cutting horse, there went Bucki, flying full
tilt with rapid fire of dirt pluming behind him, dodging imaginary logs and
rock. And that tail - flagging straight up - trotting like a park horse and
sniffing the air with a regal presence and who can forget those radar ears and
enormous angelic eyes, full of innocence and mischief. That was our Bucki.These White Tails are
marvelous creatures, perfectly adaptable with a conformation design in harmony
with their natural environment and ultimate challenge. The strength and power in their hind legs can
be menacing yet they appear as graceful as a ballerina and as silent as a
cat.
Bucki had his favourite moms who
devoted most of the time to him. I was his early morning mom. I had the honours
of giving Bucki his first feed of the day. I was eagerly greeted with hordes of
deer kisses and loud howls of hunger as he clambered onto my lap reaching for
the temperate bottle of warm nourishment. During these 5:30 a.m. meals, Bucki
downed each bottle with utter contentment as he suckled hard and fast, pulling
and pushing on the nipple with gusto. It wasn't unusual for him to polish off
34 ounces at one go making room between bodily functions of course! Finally
satisfied, he would drop to his knees in solitude and curl up for a little nap
as his neighbours munched away on their morning hay.
Laurie handled the majority of
Bucki's afternoon feedings and outdoor exercise time. At the end of each session, Bucki could be
heard wailing through the barn for his companion. Laurie always offered him
lots of hand rubs while making gift offerings of apple slices and clover buds
to chew on.
He warmed to her company and
soft assuring voice as she positioned herself in a restful pose on the foot
stool, strategically placed within the camouflage of the converted horse stall.
The miniature Sherwood Forest was designed to encourage natural foraging admist
an assortment of tree branches,
dandelions and the like.
But his most trusting mom was
Ruth. Ruth got the night shift with Bucki and it was during this feeding that
he became the most active and playful. Anyone who knows Ruth, knows the
patience and love she has for animals. Bucki bonded completely with her over
the many late hours of evening quiet. He would hasten to her call when she
would cheerily announce "Bucki ---- it's you're nighttime mom." It
would be Ruth who would come to the rescues in the scary thunder storms and the
perils of harness catches. It would be Ruth who would gently wipe the crust of
sticky pablum from his nose and forehead. And it would be Ruth who would have
the last of the goodbyes when he was given over to the care of Chris and Pete
for safekeeping and final release.
By the middle of his third month
it was evident that we could no longer give him what he needed. Bucki was
becoming bigger and stronger with each
new light of day. In just two and a half months he had grown six inches at the
shoulder and gained 30 lbs. in weight.
It was difficult to maintain him in the small dog harness he had
graduated. He strained to run free when his walks took him from the stall to
the arena. The playing had become more aggressive too.The hind stance, the
bunting and the "catch me if you can" was increasingly more energetic
and prolonged. He was eyeing the kick boards and was now able to reach the top
edge of them when he jumped up to greet his moms. The daily log book was
consuming two pages of detail rather than just a paragraph. It was time to move
on!
Although we had found domestic
deer farms that would take him, all of us knew that he deserved a chance to be
returned to the wilderness if possible. He would not be happy confined nor
would his wild inbred spirit betray him. And so it was through contacts at the
Ministry of Natural Resources that a wildlife sanctuary was found.
Since the location of the deer
keepers cannot be divulged for the privacy and security of the animals, we can
however tell you that Bucki adjusted well at the Sanctuary as witnessed by his
transporters. When Laurie, Ruth and I opened his crate in the large dense
natural bush compound, he very cautiously took his first steps out of the
carrier and onto the path which would eventually lead towards ultimate
freedom.
Greeting him was another young
fawn. At first Bucki was a little taken aback. He'd never seen another fawn
before. Soon after he introduced himself
to 17 other fawns of similar size and circumstance as he explored the grounds
of his new home leaving not a twig unnoticed. Bucki now had 18 new friends that
looked just like him! He had in essence entered deer academy. The human
influence would now slowly be withdrawn allowing him to act more on his
instincts.
The next summer, the wildlife
sanctuary reported that all of their 23 rescued fawns had been successfully
released, including the tiny fragile three legged doe. She had lost her hind
leg in a farm machinery accident. And what about the affectionate and cheerful
Rudy and her curious friends and the big late summer buck who would stomp in
defiance at our approach? All of them were
free at long last to travel and revel in the timberland forest uninhibited by
fence or hand. They were declared real
bona fide deer no longer wards of humanity's goodwill.
Bucki became love struck about
mid March, just as the weather started to break. A faint scent of spring anointed
the cool and silent still air. The north had seen a heavy snowfall that winter
past stunting last autumn's six foot high chain link fence. The less imposing
fortress would entice the deer to explore their outdoor domain beyond the
protective bounds of the wire.
A wayward doe, lingering outside
the compound had made her presence known to our Bucki. He must have seemed
utterly irresistible! With the lure of the soft eyed doe Bucki went head over
heels, or rather heels over fence and found a mate to share the early spring
with. He and his young miss returned on occasion to the easy feeding grounds of
the compound area. They were not seen again.
In the magic light of a cool
fall evening, the White Tails will come again to browse on the hay field for
the last feast of summer's sweet alfalfa flowers. When the flag is raised and
bounce engages, we'll wonder how Bucki’s life was. He will be welcomed by the applause of the poplars in a gentle breeze, sheltered by
the mothering arms of the great spruce, pine
and balsam, we bid him adieu.
-----
Postscript: There were hard lessons learned here. Public
education about wildlife is needed.To share with you our experience is our way
of helping bridge that lack of knowledge and ignorance.If you find a fawn by
the edge of a field or forest, leave it unless you know for certain of its
mother's demise.The doe places her fawn
in a quiet area and teaches it to lie still and silent. The fawn doesn't travel
with its mother for the first while. It stays in the same location, unless
moved for safety.The doe doesn't stay for long periods, as fawns are born
without scent as a protection against attracting predators. Therefore, the doe doesn't want to leave her
scent on her helpless fawn. White Tail deer are primarily browsers and are not
like the domesticated European deer in petting zoos who generally graze. Deer
chew cud, just like cows, enabling them to eat, flee danger, and finish their
food later. Deer are very timid but social and will take to humans readily if
given the chance. (Not wise when they are to be returned to the wild and the
presence of hunters, their most dangerous adversary.) Finally, in Ontario it's
illegal to keep deer without a permit. Let's face it, a doe makes a better mom
and teacher than we substitute humans could ever be.
