My Own Backyard: Springer & Katahdin

"When it's late in the evening I go up the hill,

And survey all my kingdom while everything's still.

Only me and the sky and an old whipporwill

Singing songs in the twilight on Mockingbird Hill."

~ Les Paul and Mary Ford: 1951, Lyrics by Vaughn Horton,

"Mutual Of Omaha's Wild Kingdom." If you are 50 or older, you'll remember a simpler time when you and your sibs, and perhaps a neighbor kid or two, piled around the TV to watch (the original) "Wild Kingdom." This was our Animal Planet or Discovery Channel. What a great show. Living here in rural northeastern Connecticut, though, down a long driveway into the woods, all I need to do is just look out into my backyard to know that I am living in my own little "Wild Kingdom." Deer, turkeys, foxes, rabits, bobcats (yes, a bobcat! One snatched up a rabbit. Circle of life!) and groundhogs abound mixed in, of course, with the ususal critters such as squirrels, chipmunks, snapping turtles and all sorts of birds. There are times too, around dusk, that I feel as if I am living in an episode of Zoorama. You remember the show, based in the San Diego Zoo, that started with a whailing or a whoppoing of some sort of creature. It started low and slow, becoming increasingly louder and faster. Although I thought this was a bird of sorts, I've since learned that it was a monkey of sorts; a Probiscis monkey I think. And while there are no Probiscis monkeys in my yard, there is some sort of bird mocking it's call. I swear!

If you've read my blog in the past you'll know about the deer in our yard who eat the whole corn (versus cracked corn) that we put out for them. We have a few generations of them that we've come to recognize. There is a beautiful buck, around 2 years old and his sister who has a limp when she walks. Two little bambie types have been stringing along with them for a few months and I believe the one with the limp is the mom. We all have been captivated watching them saunter down our driveway or on the other side of the stonewall, approaching the feeding trough to see if we've remembered to put the corn out for them. At times they are sorely dissappointed, I suspect, to find that some of the others have beat them to their feast. No matter, they'll be back.

I've observed, on many occassions, the 4 of them approaching the trough only to see the buck hanging back a bit, seemingly serving as a lookout, while the others eat all the corn. He goes to check it once they have had their fill, but alas, they never leave any for him. Not to worry, there have been several times when I see the buck approach alone and he then proceeds to eat it all himself. I also know that several of our neighbors put corn out for the deer.

When the deer are done they walk around the yard grazing and sometimes lying in the shade to nap. We've been asked whether we have given names to "our" deer but it actually has never occured to me to do so. After all, they aren't our deer. They are no more our pets than the wild turkeys are or the chipmunks and rabbits. We coexist and actually it is we who have invaded their habitat and home. I can't help but wonder if they have a few "pet" names for us.

Having said all that, however, I couldn't help but to name the younger ones after watching the antics of these two bambies a few weeks back. The two have only recently lost all their spots and have begun to roam the area together without their mom and their uncle, the buck, (Uncle Buck-thus named) although I'm sure those other 2 are very close by and keeping an eye on the youngins. So, the two come sauntering down the yard early one morining and proceed to eat all the corn. After walking into the front yard to graze for 10 minutes or so they return to the trough, presumably to eat more corn. There is none. They walk out front to graze some more and then 10 minutes later they again return to check out the trough. Empty. They have learned from their mom and Uncle Buck that when they go to the trough there is corn there to eat. Now, they are out on their own and alas, this system of acquiring food does not seem to be working.

"Is there a flaw? Maybe we haven't waited long enough."

You can only imagine what they are thinking.

"There is supposed to be corn there. It always works when we go there with mom and Uncle Buck. What are we doing wrong? Well, lets just take a nap in the shade then."

A few minutes later Uncle Buck saunters down toward the trough and the bambies are quickly on their feet and following him close behind. "He'll show us how it's done."

But of course there is no corn there and the three of them saunter back up the driveway and into the woods.

In watching this all play out, I was reminded of something that I observed years ago. I would think of this story now and then, telling this ancedote to myself for my own amusement. My story has to do with laundry and underwear and it goes like this:

"Where does my underwear come from?" is an age old question that small boys and men have been pondering forever. Men, typically, don't discover the mystery of where their underwear really comes from until they have children. Whether they are 6, 16 or 36 they are perplexed, but have come to accept, that every time they open their dresser drawer there will be underwear. Even if they took the last pair the morning before when they open the drawer the next day, surprise, underwear! How do they do that, the underwear? Don't question it they think, just shut up - lest you jinx it - and be happy and accept it.

It wasn't until we had our first child and I became increasingly busy with mom and helpless infant things, that my husband finally uncovered the mystery of the underwear. He knew, correctly, that there had to be an explanation for it and it couldn't be all this "magical thinking." He now knew where underwear came from and he knew where and how to get it if it wasn't in the drawer when he needed it. Go to the back room where those 2 big white metal boxes are. One of them is called a "dryer." Open it. Surprise! Underwear! Oh thank goodness, mystery solved. No longer at the mercy of the magic dresser drawer, underwear really comes from the dryer.

I couldn't help but wonder if the bambies had the same sort of magical thinking. Go to the trough and there will be corn! Too cute. Too precious! These bambies each needed a name now. No, I do not own these deer. But it was now clear that they owned me.

I decided that I will call them, Springer and Katahdin.

Disclaimer and Note:

The underwear story is not meant to be a knock to my husband but rather a knock to me and an admittance by myself that I did not always keep up with things early after the birth of our first child. And, truth be told and more often than not, if you need underwear in our house today we still need to go to the dryer!

Note: For those of you who read my blog you know that I am a backcountry hiker wannabe with delusions of hiking the Appalachian Trail some day. The southern terminus of the trail in Georgia is on Springer Mountain. The northern terminus in Maine at Baxter Peak is on Mount Katahdin. It seemed appropriate and only logical to me to name these two deer thusly.