06/19/2026
Here’s a long and windy post:
When I said I was NOT doing fawn intakes this year, I guess the universe remembered I have a hard time saying no to anything.
I’ve taken 6 this year and that’s a good number with which to wade back in. I cannot handle the numbers I’ve had in the past, with 100 tiny hooves beating on me at feeding time! I am just overflow for my community and phone call triage at this time of life.
Since my numbers are so small, this group has their nursery in the quiet garden right outside my house where they can eat up my flowers. It won’t be long until they’re big enough to go to the turn out pasture where they will learn to forget about me and be normal deer.
I always want to stress that all fawns raised by rehabilitators go back to the wild. None become pets. None roam neighborhoods, getting snacks from people.
If you’ve followed me for years you know how hard I preach about feeding deer and, for the love of everything holy, DO NOT PUT OUT CORN! It’s horrible for them!
This group contains an extreme piebald fawn with lots of congenital issues. The main problem is the turned and tight hooves. We had a vet visit yesterday and I was relieved to hear she has a chance. She had her first decent p**p today, after getting all cleaned out and fed correctly, she has the desire to walk about and interest in her surroundings. Her head is smaller and narrow but she’s bright. Best of all, she’s hungry.
My favorite vet in the universe pointed out where she needs different supports to push her feet back in the correct position as she stretches them and grows. It all sounded easy until my husband and I tried to hold her 1lb self still to wrap her, the slippery little ghost.
If you followed a few years back you might remember the piebald dwarf I had with horribly deformed legs. She wore casts for months and was able to walk well when she left. She lives at a facility with acres and acres to roam and little key deer as friends.
Now this little one is properly wrapped and ready. I believe she will be able to release with this small herd. If not, she will have to find placement in a special zoo. Right now, she’s already licking the ground and nuzzling and requesting to be fed so I feel hopeful.
Her worst enemy will be a man with a gun who will see her as a prize and not realize how had she had to work to live. Hopefully my 60 acres and the 60 behind me will be enough for her to remain a rumor and a ghost in the woods with her tiny herd (as well as the dozens already there).
The little buck, who is our big boy now, who was run over by a Toyota, did not have success keeping his hip in joint. However, he is thriving. He seems to feel no issue with the displaced joint and has grown strong and mostly straight. He and the next largest jump and play and run with zero issues and I’m delighted with how nature has just worked in his favor.
The others are normal, orphans or small injuries that have healed. They are demanding, voracious, hoofy little flower eaters.
And, as life in rehab goes, we have lost one as well, too sick to survive. Sometimes it’s better to be on the other side.
A snippy little caveat to support the rehabbers: When I started it was in the dawning of the internet. I didn’t have a rehab community and support was nonexistent. Nowadays, the young women and men in this undertaking have GWN to connect and help. I’m part of a giant group text to which I only partially tune in, mostly retired as I am.
Hardworking rehabbers take such s**t from people. We all have finders who are great, in fact most are wonderful. Mine have been wonderful except for one, who was a NUT, in all caps.
If you find a fawn and make a call LISTEN to what they say and be succinct and helpful. Show up when you say you are. Someone feeding 30 little mouths 5 times a day is overwhelmed. They don’t work for you, they’re don’t care about your story because they’re TIRED! Their whole season is spent keeping these animals alive. Your part is to drive the animal to them, support them monetarily if you like, with formula, with forage, or with a “thanks for what you do”, which is great. No one is asking for more than a thanks. Thank you is perfect!
I once had a finder who was local and showed up for weeks, quietly leaving goat milk, strawberries and a little something for me. It was such an unexpected statement of a good heart. I still see her today, years later, and recognize the light in her. (Yes, that’s you Ann.)
These rehabbers are cursed at, whined to, argued with and believe me when I tell you that humans are the hardest animal. Be nice.
I might have taken 60 calls this year, which is nothing compared to GWN, who might get that daily and trying to get people to do the right thing is the biggest hurdle they have. We might not know everything but we know animals. Be nice folks. It’s really a good mantra in most walks of life.
