Some months ago, a neighbor posted on the neighborhood board
(called NextDoor) that a mother deer had two fawns in her back yard. But only a
few days later, the mother and one of the fawns disappeared, likely moved
themselves to a more discreet grazing area.
The thing was, they left one fawn behind. Despite not
approaching it and waiting for the mother to return for it, the newborn fawn
was still there and still alone.
The neighbors mobilized with advice. Call animal control.
Don’t call animal control. Call a vet. Follow what the vet says. Get bottles
and formula and feed it. Don’t feed it. Do. Don’t. Do.
The neighbor began feeding the fawn. The fawn seemed to gain
strength. The neighbor posted pictures. Who doesn’t melt at the sight of Bambi?
Turned out Bambi was a she, and we collectively named her Bambina. We looked
for daily updates and photos, and cheered for every new morning light that
showed Bambina was still there. Donations of blankets and formula and money
poured, but mostly it was a steady stream of advice that flowed and made us a
village.
And then she began to fail. She was clearly sick. More
advice, prayers and tears.
Then one day, Bambina passed away to the great grazing field in the sky, and a whole neighborhood cried.
Then one day, Bambina passed away to the great grazing field in the sky, and a whole neighborhood cried.
Only weeks ago, this happened again. Only this was an
abandoned newborn feral kitten. This time, it was a he, and the rescuer named
him Alfie. Many adoption offers and donations later, and the rescuer has made
Alfie, now an energetic love-bug of a cat, part of her household.
There’s a saying that it takes a village to raise a child.
These real neighborhood stories made me think of how these children made us a
village, but it took one compassionate neighbor to do the work.

