I'm fortunate to own a little piece of a larger quaking aspen forest. The locals call the trees "quakies." At 6350 feet above sea level the trees are tall and lush and in their element. In the wintertime, when there's several feet of snow on the ground, the forest is pure white and the quakies are quiet. In the summertime the quakies sing at the slightest breeze, sounding like a bubbling creek in the far distance. The sound of the quaking trees is as magical as is the rest of the forest.
In the summertime, the green canopy shades the understory. The understory is filled with wild grasses and flowers. On a good day I see everything from orange Indian Paintbrush to yellow arnica, pink wild rose to purple harebells, spotted orchids to black coneflowers, lavender-blue flax and bachelor buttons, to blue lupines and so many more many more. The understory also hides the birds and deer that find protection in the forest.
In my patch of quakies we have several mule deer families that have hung around for years. One summer we had twin fawns that were my friends all summer...about a week before we left for the winter, one of the twins was hit by a car and her right back leg was broken. I saw her hobble along with her twin the rest of the time I was in residence and I was sure she would not make it thru the winter. I was wrong...the next summer, she was there with a remodeled and crooked right back leg. The broken leg had healed, leaving her with a limp and strange gait, but she was alive.This summer, five years later, I spotted a limping doe with a crooked right back leg, with a fawn. She's a fighter!
There are many stories in the forest. Summer 2023 started with a sad note. Spring was hard and many of the fawns and yearlings did not survive. The Department of Game and Fish said there was a 90% kill-off of fawns and yearlings. After hearing that, I was not hopeful of seeing many fawns this year, let alone yearlings from the previous year. There were no fawns in May or June and I was sure Game and Fish was right...then in early July a mama deer shows up in the backyard with her twins. We had twin fawns gracing our backyard. Since then, I've been observing the twins daily. They are growing fast, yet they still have their spots. They hop and jump and play and then rest for hours on the soft bark beside my screened-in deck. I can see them but they can't see me...and if I'm quiet on the deck, I can watch their antics.
The other day the twins were laying in a patch of vinca nibbling a few leaves and minding their own business when their mama walks into the yard. From almost asleep to wide awake in mere seconds, the twins jumped up and ran to their mama. The forest was quiet and suddenly I heard a sound I had never heard before and I could not figure out what it was. I quietly moved from my chair to a better vantage point and there was Bambi 1 suckling with great gusto, slurping up delicious milk from mama. Soon he got his fill, and Bambi 2 starts suckling as loud as could be, until he too got his fill ...at which time mama gave him a soft short "kick" indicating she was done, and it was time for the fawns to go away. The twins reluctantly left and mama walked into the forest, where I could not see her anymore. The twins went back to resting on the vinca.
That's the thing, between the dense canopy and the understory, the animals are hidden by the forest within five feet of entering it. Mama was done...her babies were fed and safe...and she could take a rest away from her demanding twins. All is good in the forest.
There are many stories in the forest, all I have to do is wait for them to unfold.
