Mother Deer and The Real Me

I couldn’t see all of her, just a patch of fur, reddish in the sunlight, framed by the intense green of early summer leaves.

A moment later there was a crashing through the woods. The spotted fawn leaped across the path in front of us and noisily disappeared in the brush and trees on the other side.

Fate made as if to chase after her, but stopped when I told her to “leave it”.

The fawn was gone, but the mother deer was just making herself known.

She ran thought the trees towards me and Fate then circled back before getting to the path.  I kept walking purposely away from where the fawn had run.  But mother deer was not giving up.  She circled around in the woods, running noisily then  she we headed right towards us.

I actually looked for a tree to stand behind, it looked as though she was on the attack.

It sounds strange saying that about a deer.  Even as I was witnessing it, I found it odd to be afraid of a deer. But she was doing what she had to, to keep us away from her baby.

I stopped and made Fate stay and the deer ran just in front of us. On the other side of the path she stopped and made a high-pitched screeching sound.  She kept circling around us and making that strange noise until, I guess, we were far enough away so she didn’t see us as a threat anymore.

Then she too disappeared into the woods.

I’ve never seen  a deer behave that way before, I’ve never heard one make that noise.

It made me think of last year around this time when I found a fawn in the same woods.  She was all alone and could hardly stand.  I picked her up thinking she was in danger and brought her to my neighbor who is a Veterinarian.  There was nothing wrong with the fawn, she was just newborn. Her mother off getting food.  I brought her back to where I found her, but the whole event brought up old feeling about myself and not feeling safe as a child. Of wanting to be protected.

The deer and fawn I encounter in the woods a few days ago was the exact opposite of what happen a year ago.

This mother was fiercely protecting her baby.  Doing what she had to, to dive us away.

It felt like a message for me.  A reflection of where I am today compared to last year.

I thought of all the emotional work I’ve done, talking to my inner child.  How I  no longer wake up in the middle of the night afraid.  How in one powerful vision, I watched my grandmother melt before my eyes, as I told her “Little Maria” wasn’t going to visit her anymore then, then burned the whole room to black cinders.

I saw clearly that the mother deer was a symbol of me, protecting myself as a child.  And ultimately, protecting the person I am now.

I feel the strength of myself, in my lower belly, even as I write this.

I still have work to do.

There’s a fear that lives inside of me and surfaces when I’m confronted with old issues, mostly about  self-worth.  But I’m becoming aware of the difference between rational fear (which actually does protect us, like getting out of the way when a mother deer is charging)  and neurotic fear.

I realize now I was never able to distinguish between the two.  So everything was potentially something to be afraid of.

But it’s the little girl, “little Maria” that feels the neurotic fear.  Not the adult I am now.   More and more I’m integrating the two.

So someday, there will only be one person.

And that will be the real me.