First Fawn

In the midst of things going from bad to worse in the Gulf, I have feelings of utter despair. I admit it, when I woke up today I sat there and thought "I do not want to get up today." I wanted to stay in bed, sulk and cry, have arguments in my head about the people who have wrought havoc to such natural beauty. Instead, I got out of bed because I had to work.

It was not an easy morning, emotionally, for me. Hiding my ever growing panic over the spill is something necessary in this job, so I did what I needed to and got through the morning. I continued my chores, but by late morning realized I had need for some serious anger management. I changed into running clothes, slapped on some sunscreen and bolted out the back door into the high heat of the day for a run.

I'm not a runner, I never was. I do not feel my life will be incomplete if I do not evolve into a distance runner. However, I've been working on getting to the next level with physical fitness, and it was suggested I start running. So, I have.

I always start with the small loop to the left of my house, its about 1/2 mile round trip from here to the dead end, back to my driveway. I hit a decent pace and am shocked that by mile one I feel that this run is almost effortless... I've never felt that way before while running. The whole time my thoughts are toggling back and forth between "why is this run seeming so easy" to "why is this oil spill happening," and finally "what is to become of our beloved planet." The miles (that's plural) start to peel off. I do not even feel winded. I'm on asphalt with no shade whatsoever, now absolutely drenched in sweat but feeling like I can keep going.... then I saw her, right there in the scrub of an empty lot. A newborn Key deer fawn. I couldn't believe my eyes. I saw her standing there, very wobbly, looking at me, a curious stare coming my way from her brown eyes. I stopped to observe, and saw she began to take a few tentative steps towards me. I backed away slowly. I did not want her to feel comfortable with me and especially did not want her to feel comfortable with the road. As I backed away a few yards, she stopped coming towards me. When she stopped, she let out a little cry (the cries of fawns can be surprisingly loud, and to me sound almost human baby-like), then curled up in the grass behind the weeds. She was so small I couldn't really even see her over the top of the weeds (which were only the height I'd say of about a tall dandelion). I stood there and thought about what I was seeing. I thought about what is happening in the Gulf, and likely going to come our way....and started to cry. I'm not sure why I was crying, so many emotions were whirling inside me. I stood there and made an out loud promise to that newborn fawn that I would work past despair and mobilize to do whatever needs to be done when the time comes to protect life and land down here.

I will not fail our planet Earth, I will not fail the key Deer, the osprey, the ibis, the sea turtles, the lizards, the dragonflies, nor the waters and plants that give shelter, food and life to all that surrounds me here. I am convinced that newborn fawn was a sign, sent to kick start me past this horrible despair, and actually act when "it" comes here. I cannot say that I'm ready, how can someone ever be ready for such work, but believe me when I say this: I will not stand alone on the front lines, my community will be working side by side, and we will do everything we possibly can for these helpless, innocent, victims and our beautiful Mother Earth.