The summer was busy. In particular, July was almost chaotic for me. I was away from home three of July’s four weekends and the experiences (and photos) began to pile up. I probably gathered enough information to fill columns for the next three summers, but there were two moments in particular that have stuck with me for weeks and months. I just can’t move on until I get them out of my system.
The first of these magical moments occurred on the morning of July 7. Some of you may have heard my radio interview on WHMP, Northampton, in which I described a little bit of what I saw that morning. This is going to be the “full” account with a more organized structure to the story. So here we go.
It was a gorgeous morning on a gorgeous lake in Maine. My brother had just acquired a “camp” in this wonderful place and he invited myself and my sister to join him for a sibling summit that we named BLT I. The “BLT” stands for our names (Bill, Laura, and Tom) while the “I” is a Roman numeral that optimistically looks forward to many such gatherings in the future. July 7 was day two of our visit and we had decided to get out onto the lake as early as possible.
After a hearty breakfast, washed down with some hot coffee, we made a beeline for the dock where my brother’s boat was tied up. We boarded the vessel with ease, having had plenty of practice getting in and out of canoes and small boats during our childhood. Tom started the engine and we slowly backed away from the dock. Then, a smooth turn to the north sent us out into the middle of the lake. I was distracted by the damselflies flying low over the water, Laura was focused on a bird flying high over the water, and Tom was getting his depth finder working. Thus, it was a surprise to all of us when we seemed to simultaneously notice that there was something unusual up ahead of us.
It was brown and it seemed to be making fairly good headway. The knee-jerk identification of “beaver” seemed logical, but there was something that just didn’t quite fit. The American Beaver is a large rodent with a flattened skull that allows it to swim while keeping a low profile. The thing in the water ahead of us was simply too large and it was also the wrong shade of brown. Tom was busy piloting the boat, but Laura and I brought binoculars and camera to bear on the mystery animal at the same time and we both seemed to realize what we were looking at the same time. It wasn’t a beaver at all. It was a deer!
Then, I heard Laura gasp in recognition when she realized that it was actually a pair of deer swimming together. We were witnessing a doe and her fawn swimming across the lake! The baby was covered with spots and seemed a little nervous. There were moments when it looked as though the fawn was trying to climb up on its mother’s back, but these efforts were not successful. This was mostly adorable, but I did fell a little sympathy for the little deer.
And so we found ourselves forced to make a choice. Tom gave some power to the motor and we started to close the difference between the little family and us. A quick burst of speed followed by a long, quiet coast allowed us to get a better view, but we all noticed that the pace of both animals quickened. Did they know that they had been seen, or was the doe simply being prudent? Ultimately, we decided that it didn’t matter. Tom cut back on the engine and we allowed the deer to continue their swim without adding to their panic.
My telephoto lens was sufficiently powerful to capture photos of the mother and her baby as they reached the far shore. The female climbed up out of the water and then looked over her shoulder at us. The fawn clambered up out of the water and then watched its mother for a hint as to what it was supposed to do. Run? Relax? What should I do, Mom? As it turns out, the mother’s concern seemed to have abated a little and she was quite casual about the whole thing. Either that, or she was prudently searching the woods for danger before running from one threat right into another. It was impossible to tell her motivation, but the fact that she lingered did allow us all to laugh when the fawn started frolicking about.
Mother and baby disappeared into the trees and we all looked at each other in amazement. None of us had ever seen a deer swimming before and the fact that a fawn was involved just seemed remarkable. The crazy thing about this event is the fact that it lasted for few minutes. Had we lingered over breakfast for just another moment we might have missed it altogether. Had we gotten down to the boat and then realized that we had forgotten something, then we might have missed the whole thing. We were in the right place at just the right time and I will ever forget the joy of sharing a magical moment like that with my brother and sister.
Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 28 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the US Forest Service, the Nature Conservancy and the Massachusetts State Parks and he currently teaches high school biology and physics. For more information visit his website at www.speakingofnature.com, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.