Orphaned Fawn is Hand Raised

She didn’t bond with her mother, so she was being raised by hand by the luckiest zookeeper ever at the Chester Zoo. Just because this is adorable.

(via lucylivesherlife)

Orphaned Fawn is Hand Raised

Orphaned Fawn is Hand Raised

Orphaned Fawn is Hand Raised

Orphaned Fawn is Hand Raised3

Orphaned Fawn is Hand Raised

How sweeeet!

9 comments

  1. Reblogged this on Empowered Grace and commented:

    I want one, but Snowbell might protest. Happy Friday, everyone! Here’s your shot of goodness for the day thanks to the awesome people over at the Kindness Blog.

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  2. Several years ago, due to someone believing they were being helpful and rescuing a fawn (actually, they should have left her in the area but thought she had been abandoned. I’m sure the Mama was just off feeding as the fawn was very healthy), I attempted to return her to the location. I walked miles in the area to find the herd. On the drive, she kept nuzzling up to me and kissing my face. Traffic was almost dangerous with onlookers in disbelief to what they were seeing as I was driving. Sorry, I didn’t have any type of cage for transportation. Anyway, when got out of the vehicle, this precious deer stayed right by my side. When I spotted others near a small pond, I released her and headed back to my vehicle. I could hear her cries and soon she was running back to me. OH my, the tears began to flood down my cheeks. She tried to jump back up into my arms. Again, we walked back to the herd, the other’s eyes on us constantly. This time, I walked in closer, very calmly and as quietly as possible so as not to startle them, and tapped her little behind to scoot her towards them. This time I ran to my vehicle and could hear her running and crying behind me. I jumped in my truck and took off, crying all the way back to town. I barely slept that night, hearing her cries and seeing what my heart was telling me, her plea to return. The nature center advised me, no matter what happens to her, it was the cycle of life. Now, the educated part of me knows this. The mother in me never found comfort in that. So, the next day, I returned to that location, just to see, I don’t know what, to feel comfort that she was were she was supposed to be. This was not to be the case. She was back at the side of the road, lying there, as if waiting to be rescued again. Oh my, now what. I tried to drive on, not look, convince myself of how nature works. I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t stand the idea of this sweet thing being coyote bait. I stopped; she popped her head up, stared, then jumped up and ran towards my truck. Knowing this was the wrong thing to do but couldn’t stop myself, I got out of the vehicle. This fawn made such a heartbreaking sound and jumped up at me and I caught her in my arms. Now both of us crying, I don’t know what to do, and she is acting like a little kid with found candy. When she began to lick my tears, I just knew I was in deep emotional trouble. Again, we walked through the woods. This time I walked until I found another track of prints, grouping of deer, got their attention, and scooted her towards them. She turned to me, then back to them, and I took off running. Same kind of evening. For some reason, my heart was breaking over this fawn. I kept telling myself she was perfectly safe, accepted by the others, and grew up to be a beautiful doe. I couldn’t go back, but after all this time, I have never forgotten her. My heart melts, my eyes water, and I smile, every time I think of her. Thanks for letting me share.

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