Companion to an Untold Story

Heron, doe, and fawns

113 Heron, doe, and fawns. We had no idea what we would see outside our windows at the river house. We knew we’d see the river, we knew we’d see trees, but we didn’t know what lived in these trees, this river, what would pass through. Soon after moving in, standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes, I looked out the big bay window and spied a deer grazing in the wooded area on the other side of the river, nearly camouflaged in the tall autumnal grass. The deer munched on grasses in a calm, steady way and yet I felt compelled to watch. In this wooded area, away from houses, the deer seemed at ease. I watched her eat, focusing on the motion of her mouth chewing for thirty minutes. This was the third time I’d reached for the binoculars in the six weeks we’d lived in our river house. The first time was to zoom in on what turned out to be a great blue heron balanced on a floating log in the middle of the river, near the banks directly behind our house. From the distance of our house and through our window, the heron looked chalky white but seemed too large for a white heron. Up close, through the eyes of the binoculars, I saw swatches of blue-gray streaks tufting into the milky blue that had looked like white chalk. I saw, too, how he was at himself cleaning, pecking at the parasites in his plumage. 114 I began to look for him regularly—standing in the shallows of the river, tucked into the banks—and when I didn’t find him through my glass, I became concerned. More recently a doe and her two fawns crossed the river and scrambled up the banks into our yard. They stayed a half hour and ate the hostas to the ground and much else. I let them. I could have walked out on the back balcony and disturbed them. But I had never before been so close to deer for so long. The doe was alert at all times, ears pricked at any sound or movement, absolutely still, still as a snake, standing outside my study windows in the woods. Her two fawns were less vigilant , relying on her for their watch, and free to scour the brush. Occasionally they looked to where I was, face obscured behind my binoculars. I couldn’t tell if they could see me through the windows; I didn’t see any signs that they could. I felt like a detective hired to sniff out adultery, the other woman, eavesdropping on the easy dinner banter of a husband and wife. But all the analogies are wrong because they portray humans trespassing on humans. This was different; I was entering a different world, where I hadn’t been invited. ...