The Hideaway Deer

by Holly Webb

  “How long can a fawn go without milk?” Mum asked.

  “It depends how old it is,” Uncle Chris said thoughtfully. “Once a fawn’s about three weeks old, its stomach starts to work properly – they’re like cows, they’ve got four stomachs to help them feed on grass. So your fawn might be old enough to graze a little as well as feeding from its mum. But it’ll still need milk too.” He looked out of the window again. “Your fawn’s lying on its side now. That’s not a good sign – it should be curled up. And you said it followed you earlier, Lola?”

  “Yes, and it was crying,” Lola told him. “It sounded really upset.”

  “To be honest, those could just be the squeaky noises a fawn makes anyway,” Uncle Chris explained. “But a healthy fawn wouldn’t want to attract your attention. It would stay safe and hidden, waiting for its mum. If this fawn was crying and following you, it might well have been abandoned. We’d better go and have a look.”

  Uncle Chris opened the kitchen door quietly and headed out into the garden. Lola could tell he was trying to tiptoe so as not to scare the fawn but the little creature didn’t seem to notice him approaching. It was lying on its side with its legs stretched out and its eyes closed. Lola thought it looked sick but she didn’t know enough to be sure. Uncle Chris was frowning though and he looked worried.

  He crouched down by the side of the fawn, motioning Lola and Mum to stay well back. Then he pulled a pair of plastic gloves out of his pocket, the kind that doctors wear, and put them on. Lola guessed he didn’t want to leave his smell on the fawn. Uncle Chris reached out and gently pinched the fawn’s skin between his thumb and forefinger, and pulled.

  “What’s he doing?” Lola mouthed to Mum, but Mum just shook her head. She didn’t know either.

  “She definitely hasn’t fed for a while,” Uncle Chris said. “I’m pretty sure you’re right, Lola. This fawn doesn’t have a mother.”

  “She? You can tell it’s a girl?” Lola asked.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What are we going to do?” Mum said, coming a little closer. “Can we help? It’s not too late, is it? Maybe we should have called the shelter and asked them to send someone else out. I just thought it would be easier to ask you…”

  “I think we should be able to get her healthy again,” Uncle Chris said slowly. “She’s dehydrated. That’s what I was doing when I pinched her skin, Lola. If it had sprung back straight away, it would mean she was fine. But it didn’t go down, it stayed pinched up like a little tent. That means she needs to drink. And she’s really cold – I can see her shivering. Have you got some old towels?”

  Mum nodded. “I’ll get them. Do you want to bring her in the house, Chris? Is that OK?”

  “For the moment,” Uncle Chris agreed. He reached down and scooped up the fawn in his arms. Her legs stuck out in all directions and she gave a tiny wriggle but that was all. Lola wondered if the fawn was just too tired and weak to struggle. She hurried after Uncle Chris as he carried the fawn into the kitchen and sat down at the table with it on his lap.

  The little creature blinked around at the kitchen and squeaked faintly. Lola watched, biting her lip. It must be so frightening for her – she had surely never been indoors before. Everything must smell strange and wrong, and there were great big people blundering around. She wondered if the fawn remembered the football net. It had only been a week ago. Perhaps – just perhaps – she knew that Lola and Mum were on her side? Lola really hoped so. At least that might make this a tiny bit less scary.

  Mum came in with the towels and Uncle Chris wrapped one gently around the fawn. “Can you bring in the box I left in the hallway?” he asked Mum. “I brought some bottles and milk replacement powder with me, in case we needed them.”

  “Oh! I thought you’d take her back to the shelter,” Mum said, sounding surprised. “But I suppose you need to feed her straight away.” She hurried out to the hallway and came back with the box. “Is this the milk powder?” She held up a tub.

  “Yeah, but actually we need to start with rehydration solution, not the milk. There’s some sachets in there, can you see? We need to dilute it with warm water from the kettle? We can try her on milk when she’s taken this.”

  Lola spotted her mum giving Uncle Chris a funny look but she made up the sachet and passed him the bottle. Uncle Chris held it up above the fawn’s head and dribbled some liquid on his fingertips. Then he smeared it gently on her muzzle.

  The fawn did nothing for a second or two and then a slow pink tongue licked out, sweeping around her mouth to catch the droplets. She wriggled weakly and opened her eyes a little more, clearly curious about the liquid. Uncle Chris carefully lowered the bottle until the teat touched her mouth and let her suck.

  “We can’t go straight to milk, you see,” he murmured. “She’s lost a lot of minerals from being dehydrated, that’s what this stuff is putting back.” He watched the deer sucking eagerly. “I’m glad she’s taking it. Roe deer are often really hard to feed – they’re the most difficult kind to hand-rear.”

  Lola nodded. The deer were so shy and secretive, hiding in the shadows of her garden. Every time she saw them, it felt like something special. It made sense that the baby would be frightened and might not want to feed.

  “Sometimes they can take a couple of days to accept being fed from a bottle. But I suppose this baby’s just desperately thirsty.”

  “Chris, why did you bring all this stuff here, instead of taking her back to the shelter?” Lola’s mum asked, folding her arms and eyeing him sternly.

  “Mmm. Well… We’ve got a bit of a problem,” Uncle Chris explained, looking at Mum and then hurriedly back down to the fawn. “We’re short-staffed. Run off our feet, really. And hand-rearing a deer is a tricky job. Especially a roe deer.”

  “A job which obviously needs to be done by an expert,” Mum said grimly.

  “Ye-eees. It’s definitely good to have experience. But actually what’s best is if it’s the same person who does the feeding. One or two, anyway. At the moment, everyone at the shelter is so busy we’re not going to be able to make sure the same staff are always working with the fawn. If we want to be able to release her back into the wild, she needs to have only a few people around. If she gets used to lots of people feeding her, she’ll end up quite tame and that’s not going to help her in the future. So…”

  Lola looked between Mum and Uncle Chris, trying to work out what was going on. What was he saying? Then she got it. “You want us to look after her!” she gasped. “Really? Can we?”

  “Maybe.” Uncle Chris’s eyes were still fixed on the fawn. “We should think about it, at least.”

  “Chris, I work and Lola’s at school!” Mum said. “How can we possibly hand-rear a fawn? Won’t she need feeding every couple of hours?”

  “No, no. She’s too old for that. It’s hard to know exactly but I reckon she’s about eight weeks now. Old enough to need milk but grazing a little too. She’s only going to need feeding maybe, oh, four times a day? Perhaps just three.”

  “That still means a feed in the middle of the day when we’re both out,” Mum said, shaking her head.

  “Yes, but I could pop in and do that. If Lola does the other feeds, then there’ll just be the two of us. It’s a lot better than we’d manage at the shelter.”

  “Me?” Lola breathed.

  “Yes.” Uncle Chris glanced up quickly and smiled at her. “I know how much you love the deer, Lola. You’re always talking about them. Now you’ve got a chance to do something really special. But only if your mum says so, of course,” he added hurriedly.

  Lola’s mum sighed. “If the shelter can’t take her, of course we’ll help,” she said and then squeaked as Lola hugged her so hard all her breath went out. She coughed a bit and then went on, “But I’m worried about it. I mean, what if we do things wrong and she – well, if she doesn’t survive? I don’t want Lola to be upset, Chris. She’s had a lot to deal with already over the last few weeks.”

 
“Mum!” Lola stared at her. “I’m fine. What are you talking about?”

  Mum rolled her eyes. “New home, new school, not living close to your dad any more, making new friends! It’s a lot, Lola!”

  “It doesn’t mean you have to treat me like a baby,” Lola pointed out. She was trying not to sound angry or upset – she needed to sound calm and grown up and sensible. “I understand that the fawn’s ill, Mum. I know what might happen. I remember having to take Max to be put down, you know.”

  Max had been the beautiful ginger cat they’d had before Alfie. He’d been very old and his kidneys had failed. Dad had explained to Lola that it wasn’t fair to keep Max alive with lots of medicines when he’d be feeling awful all the time. Lola had been really upset but she’d understood what Dad had meant.

  The fawn was wriggling more in Uncle Chris’s arms now, and she looked a lot less floppy and feeble. “Yes, you’re a clever little girl, aren’t you?” he murmured, rubbing her gently with the warm towel.

  Alfie wandered into the kitchen and stopped dead as he caught sight of the fawn. He stared for a moment and then jumped on to the kitchen table. He wasn’t really supposed to go up there but Mum and Lola weren’t strict enough about stopping him and it was one of his favourite places to sit. He sat in the middle of the table and eyed the fawn suspiciously, and she stared back, ears flickering. Lola watched Alfie carefully, just in case he decided to go too close.

  “I think she’s definitely picking up,” Uncle Chris said. “She wasn’t alert enough to know what was going on around her a few minutes ago, was she? Molly, can you mix up some of the milk powder from that tub? It’s replacement doe milk. We can mix it with the electrolyte drink, half and half this time.” He smiled at Lola. “You’re lucky. I think she’s old enough to poo by herself.”

  “Whaat?” Lola stared at him. “What do you mean?”

  “When they’re very little, you have to rub their bottoms to make them poo and wee. Their mums do it by licking them.”

  “That is disgusting.” Lola shuddered.

  Uncle Chris laughed at her. “It gets worse. The mother deer then actually eats the – er – poo.”

  “No!”

  “Yup. But for a good reason. It’s to stop the baby’s scent being spread around, so predators won’t sniff them out.”

  “Please tell me we don’t have to do anything like that,” Mum muttered. “Alfie’s litter tray is bad enough.”

  “No.” Uncle Chris looked thoughtful. “But where are we going to keep her, Molly? She can’t live in the house. Like I said, we don’t want her getting really tame.”

  Mum frowned. “I hadn’t thought… Um. The shed? It’s only really got the lawnmower and a few garden tools in it. I could put those in the garage, since we usually leave the car out anyway.”

  “The shed? Not in the house?” Lola’s face fell. “But … why? I thought she could live indoors with us.”

  “She’s a wild animal, Lola,” Uncle Chris said gently. “You want her to grow up and go back to living by herself.”

  “I suppose,” Lola murmured. She had been thinking how lovely it would be to have a fawn watching TV with her on the sofa, or sleeping at the end of her bed, but Uncle Chris was right. If the fawn lived with people, she’d lose all her wild instincts and she wouldn’t be able to live as a wild deer when she was older.

  “She needs to be able to go outside too. Would it be OK if I brought round some wire fencing and made her a little run?”

  Lola’s mum blinked. “Yes, I suppose. How long are we going to be looking after her for, Chris?”

  Uncle Chris smiled at her hopefully. “A couple of months. At least. Maybe more like four months.”

  “Good thing we can’t afford to go on holiday this summer,” Mum muttered. Then she eyed Uncle Chris suspiciously. “You do know this is a one-off, don’t you? We’re not turning into the back-up wildlife sanctuary. If you start turning up with poorly foxes and sick hedgehogs, I’m sending them straight back again.”

  Uncle Chris nodded solemnly but he winked at Lola behind Mum’s back.

  Uncle Chris had explained that the fawn needed to live somewhere that wasn’t too cold or draughty and said their old shed would be fine. The fawn would be grown up and gone by the time the weather got cold again.

  For the time being, the fawn was curled up on a pile of old blankets from the back of Uncle Chris’s car. He was going to come back with a dog basket from the shelter, as well as the posts and fencing. He promised to teach Lola how to feed the fawn properly too. Now that the little deer was feeling a bit better, she needed to feed standing up the way she would if she was drinking milk from her mum.

  Lola had cleaned the dusty window of the shed so that it was lighter and she and Mum could peep in without disturbing the fawn. Last time she’d checked, she looked as though she was asleep, snuggled into the pile of blankets. The shed seemed a bit gloomy and unfriendly to Lola but Uncle Chris had promised her that actually it was perfect. It had a boarded wooden floor, not too slippery for small hooves. He was going to bring back a bale of straw to spread out too, to make it more comfy.

  When the posts and fence were up, they could leave the shed door open so that the fawn would be able to go outside during the day. She had to be able to graze and have some bare earth to nibble at, to make sure she was getting all the minerals she needed. So Uncle Chris said, anyway. Lola wasn’t sure how that could be good for her.

  Uncle Chris arrived back an hour or so later with a boot full of wire mesh fencing and fence posts, and a bag of concrete.

  “It looks like you’re building a prison camp!” Mum said, looking at the bundle of wire mesh.

  Uncle Chris laughed. “This is nothing. If you actually wanted to stop deer getting into your garden, you’d need a fence that was two and a half metres tall, at least. Deer can jump over anything lower than that. This is just to keep the fawn in while she’s little. Once she’s older and she’s able to look after herself a bit better, we can leave the gate open and then it’ll be up to her when she goes back to the wild.”

  Mum and Lola helped Uncle Chris dig the holes for the fence posts, which took ages. Next they had to stick the wooden posts in the holes, then fill the space around them with concrete dust and pour water on it to make it set.

  “We’ll put it back exactly like it was, I promise,” Uncle Chris told Mum, but Mum didn’t look as though she believed him. She’d told Lola before that when they were growing up Uncle Chris was always trying to smuggle animals into the house. He’d left a pet grass snake sleeping in Mum’s sock drawer once, because he said he couldn’t find anywhere else to keep it. Lola reckoned Mum was right – Uncle Chris was definitely planning to send some more animals their way.

  It sounded perfect to Lola.

  They were testing the new gate that Uncle Chris had brought along strapped to the roof bars on his car, swinging it gently back and forth to make sure it didn’t get stuck, when Lola said, “Can we name her, Uncle Chris?”

  Her uncle swung the gate again and looked at her thoughtfully. “I suppose so. As long as it doesn’t make it harder to think of her as a wild creature. You can’t fall too much in love with her, Lola. She’s not staying forever.”

  “I know that!”

  “It’s easy to say. I’ve done it myself, especially if it’s a baby you’re hand-rearing. It’s very hard not to get attached to them.”

  “I know she has to go back,” Lola said firmly. “But I don’t like calling her ‘the fawn’ or ‘the deer’ all the time. I want her to have a name.”

  “Mmmm, I see what you mean,” Uncle Chris agreed. “So what are you thinking of calling her?”

  “What about Dapple?” Lola suggested. “Because of the pattern on her back. I recognized it when I saw her this morning – it’s what made me so sure she’s the same fawn who was caught in the net.”

  “All roe deer fawns have spots, though,” Uncle Chris said.

  “Not like hers. She’s got gorgeous
dark stripes and white spots. I think Dapple would be a perfect name for her.”

  Uncle Chris nodded. “OK. It’s a good name. Just remember what I said, Lola, please.”

  “I will.” Lola sighed happily. “I can’t wait to show Paige all this. She came and helped me look for Dapple yesterday, did Mum tell you? We spent ages searching the long grass for her, and she was there under the blackberry bushes the whole time. Paige is going to be so happy we found her!”

  Uncle Chris latched the gate shut and turned to look at her. “Sorry, Lola. You can’t invite your friends round to see her. I know it seems mean but it’s the same reason we’re making her sleep outside in the shed and not in the house. We don’t want her to get used to people. The more humans she gets to know, the less likely she is to settle back into the wild.”

  “Oh…” Lola nodded slowly. She did understand – but it seemed unfair on Paige, after she’d worked so hard to look for the fawn.

  “And to be honest, apart from the times when you’re feeding her, you need to try to avoid touching her or even being around her too much. I know it sounds horrible but we need her to be frightened of humans.”

  “But – but why?”

  “So that when she’s grown up, she doesn’t see someone walking through the cemetery and decide to go to them for food. Someone with a dog maybe or someone who’s scared and reacts badly.” Uncle Chris put his arm round Lola’s shoulders. “Are you changing your mind about this?” he asked gently.

  “No… I mean, I wish I could play with her a bit. But I know you’re right.” Lola sighed. “I’m just not sure what I’m going to say to Paige. She’ll be so excited to know that we found Dapple. How am I going to tell her that I’m looking after a fawn, but she can’t come and see her?”

  “I understand what you mean.” Uncle Chris looked thoughtful. “Maybe you shouldn’t mention it to her at all? That might be easier than telling her she can’t come round.”