I’ve never been privileged to meet a real Bambi although I recall the story as one of my (teary) favorites from many years ago. Yesterday I met eight Bambis “up close and personal” at their 1:30 PM feeding. What a Sunday afternoon delight.
A friend of mine, who the last time I saw him had assured me he was “easing out of business,” reversed his course. Instead of his business getting smaller, it’s mushrooming. In addition, as he travels in his farming-related business, he discovered a deer farm. He was smitten. As he tells the story, he “instantly” knew that he needed to add deer farming to the hectic life that he and his wife already lead (she works a full time job in addition to her family business duties). Soon he was building pens and installing ten foot high fences. In addition, there were the things that don’t immediately come to mind, like a huge green contraption from Alberta, Canada designed to get mature deer to hold still for handling. The work is still in progress and I am sure will continue for the foreseeable future.
The business plan is not fully mature but will include selling bucks bred for their huge racks to hunting preserves and breeding the does to expand the business. Although I haven’t independently verified it, the internet shows a similar Pennsylvania year and a half old hybrid buck with a sixteen point rack. My head is swimming with ideas and I am sure my friend will have many more. There is quite a potential market for the scent that deer produce that attracts bucks for hunters. In addition, there is the obvious Christmas season Santa petting zoo, the possible venison market, and I am sure many other possibilities.
All this starts with spindly little fawns often born two or sometimes three at a time at roughly the same period each year. The mortality rate is high in nature so the fawns are taken from the does soon after birth (after getting the initial necessary colostrums from the mother’s first feedings). I can’t imagine what they are like at birth but can assure you that they are absolutely adorable at nine weeks of age. Each of the eight surviving fawns (one died from a seemingly innocent foot infection) has a personality and a name. (Grandchildren’s idea, I suspect.) There is nothing like a fawn sucking on your finger or putting his head strategically under your hand to be petted. I’ve never heard that mournful bleating cry of a fawn before, but it touches you deep down. I thought nothing could ever rival puppies and kittens!
Although I married into a farming family, I have never completely understood firsthand the 24/7 responsibilities involved with the care and feeding of livestock, especially the young ones. Like any other “helpless” animal, there is a lot of hidden work involved, especially for the newborn fawns. In fact, it is almost impossible to duplicate the God-given mothering that occurs naturally in the wild. I guess it is not actually possible for us to teach all there is to know about being a deer to a fawn. Feeding goat’s milk with an eyedropper and massaging the rear (which the doe does by licking) to stimulate the bowels are just the start. Oh, it’s nice to visit and ogle and pet. I wasn’t there for the tense midnight session to get a dying fawn to drink or the heartbreak of a fawn that was born with front legs and tendons badly deformed.
It makes me realize that mothering (and fathering) isn’t as easy as it looks but it is, oh, so necessary. There is the “bleating cry” of a world of individuals crying for “mothers and fathers” who will make a priority of the care and feeding of others through thick and thin. I realize there are tremendous ongoing needs to be met beyond the token Sunday feeding and stroking that made me feel so good. It makes me more determined to be available “whenever and wherever” to help others through the both the good and especially the tough times as we grow together.
A friend of mine, who the last time I saw him had assured me he was “easing out of business,” reversed his course. Instead of his business getting smaller, it’s mushrooming. In addition, as he travels in his farming-related business, he discovered a deer farm. He was smitten. As he tells the story, he “instantly” knew that he needed to add deer farming to the hectic life that he and his wife already lead (she works a full time job in addition to her family business duties). Soon he was building pens and installing ten foot high fences. In addition, there were the things that don’t immediately come to mind, like a huge green contraption from Alberta, Canada designed to get mature deer to hold still for handling. The work is still in progress and I am sure will continue for the foreseeable future.
The business plan is not fully mature but will include selling bucks bred for their huge racks to hunting preserves and breeding the does to expand the business. Although I haven’t independently verified it, the internet shows a similar Pennsylvania year and a half old hybrid buck with a sixteen point rack. My head is swimming with ideas and I am sure my friend will have many more. There is quite a potential market for the scent that deer produce that attracts bucks for hunters. In addition, there is the obvious Christmas season Santa petting zoo, the possible venison market, and I am sure many other possibilities.
All this starts with spindly little fawns often born two or sometimes three at a time at roughly the same period each year. The mortality rate is high in nature so the fawns are taken from the does soon after birth (after getting the initial necessary colostrums from the mother’s first feedings). I can’t imagine what they are like at birth but can assure you that they are absolutely adorable at nine weeks of age. Each of the eight surviving fawns (one died from a seemingly innocent foot infection) has a personality and a name. (Grandchildren’s idea, I suspect.) There is nothing like a fawn sucking on your finger or putting his head strategically under your hand to be petted. I’ve never heard that mournful bleating cry of a fawn before, but it touches you deep down. I thought nothing could ever rival puppies and kittens!
Although I married into a farming family, I have never completely understood firsthand the 24/7 responsibilities involved with the care and feeding of livestock, especially the young ones. Like any other “helpless” animal, there is a lot of hidden work involved, especially for the newborn fawns. In fact, it is almost impossible to duplicate the God-given mothering that occurs naturally in the wild. I guess it is not actually possible for us to teach all there is to know about being a deer to a fawn. Feeding goat’s milk with an eyedropper and massaging the rear (which the doe does by licking) to stimulate the bowels are just the start. Oh, it’s nice to visit and ogle and pet. I wasn’t there for the tense midnight session to get a dying fawn to drink or the heartbreak of a fawn that was born with front legs and tendons badly deformed.
It makes me realize that mothering (and fathering) isn’t as easy as it looks but it is, oh, so necessary. There is the “bleating cry” of a world of individuals crying for “mothers and fathers” who will make a priority of the care and feeding of others through thick and thin. I realize there are tremendous ongoing needs to be met beyond the token Sunday feeding and stroking that made me feel so good. It makes me more determined to be available “whenever and wherever” to help others through the both the good and especially the tough times as we grow together.
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