I had four entries in mind from the weekend.

Only one got written.

Then Diaryland got back into the snit that had been so frustrating all the way through April, May and into June... of sitting here waiting, literally, 10 to 20 minutes for the system to register the entry you just saved, so's you can move on to the next, or anything else you wanted to do.

I suspect you all had the same problems with the Dland comment system...

The past couple weeks were so joyful. Writing was fun again. Then last night, back to swimming in molasses.

And now, I only remember two of the three remaining entries. And, of course, have yet another for today.

So, let's try one and see what happens...

The call came around 9:30, Sunday morning. Dispatch, relaying a report of an "orphaned" deer fawn in town. Got a good location, and the RP's name, phone number and address.

I could jump up, get dressed, and get right on that.

But I didn't.

Yes, there was the temptation of breakfast in bed, already prepared by the wife, and cooling as I talked on the phone. And the general resistance to jumping up and hurrying on a Sunday.

But the truth is, most orphan calls are nothing of the kind. Doe pronghorn and deer commonly go off and leave their fawns behind, for many hours at a time.

I suspect she propably doesn't come back until her belly is full, or her udders swollen, whichever happens first.

So I have learned, over too many years, that sometimes the best response to one of these calls is a s..l..o..w response. Give that doe a chance to come back and be seen nursing her fawn(s).

You show up then, and the people are all apologetic about calling you, because "the doe came back!"

Which is what we want in the first place. Orphaned fawns, whether truly orphaned or orphaned by well-intentioned ignorant people, do not have much of a future.

There are no dollars allocated to raising wild animals in captivity that can never be sent back into the wild. If someone needs domesticated deer or antelope for a research project, well there will be money for their care and upbringing. But depending on the research need (often diseases), one's future may not be too rosy.

And yes, some years the proper response for orphaned fawns is immediate euthanization.

So no, we do everything we can to keep these little critters with their mothers.

Some time after noon, I roll out. And find the fawn right exactly where the woman said. By one of the main drags in town, feeding happily along the shoulder by a horse trailer.

Well, at least it's feeding itself. That's a good sign.

I park a 100 meters down the highway, and watch. And wait.

No doe.

But its coat, while the typical curly of a mule deer fawn, is clean. The ears are up (Droopy ears one of the first signs of dehydration.), and the butt's clean. (Another early sign of health problems... diarrhea, or what vets call "scours".)

Fawn wanders onto the frontage road, and drinks from a puddle.

Okay, so it can water itself. That's good, too.

Then it steps into the road, and pees.

Onto its hind legs. Which it rubs back and forth in the urine stream.

Oooookay. So now we know it's a buck fawn.

Acting like he owns the street, and knows exactly where he's going, the fawn crosses the main neighborhood road into the narrow weedy gap between two lots.

And then makes a beeline up the hill to the shade of a Russian olive, right next to a backyard fence, and beds down.

Okay, nothing unusual here, either. Working on my Master's research, I had to lay motionless in the sun for hours waiting for does to come back to their newborn fawns. And in those hours I learned:

a) The doe does not know where she left her fawns. She has a general idea, but when she comes back, she starts calling in a really low, gentle voice. Only when the fawns bleat and stand up does she know where they are.

b) The reason the doe does not know where her fawns are is because, even on their first day of life, those little suckers move. I'm laying in the yucca and cactus, watching out for red ants and rattlesnakes, and the little twirp I've been keeping tabs on gets up and moves. As the day wore on, the sun hit his hiding spot, so he got up and found a shadier spot. (Leaving me laying enviously, sunburnt, in the hot summer sun on radioactive dirt.)

So. With this latest fawn (watched from the comfort of an air conditioned truck), we now know:

1) He can feed himself.

2) He can get his own water.

3) He appears physically healthy.

4) He knows exactly where he is, and where he ought to be.

And 5) He knows how a buck should pee.

And I have decided exactly what course of action I'm going to take here.

Do nothing.

Well, nothing to the fawn at least. But if he's been hanging around, the people who's yard he is by may have seen him.

Far as I know, I've never been to this house before, but as I knock on the door and wait for a response, I have made a bet with myself that there is at least a 50:50 chance I will know whoever answers the door.

I do.

And am immediately invited inside.

And yes, they've seen the fawn. And they've seen a doe hanging around, too. Never seen the two together, but this couple has just assumed the doe went with the fawn.

My heart is trying hard not to fly.

Just to cover bases, I ask them to keep an eye on the little guy, and let me know if he gets sickly. Or if they ever see him with a doe.

Which, of course, knowing these folks, they will.

Now, I just have to contact the woman who called in the first place, and let her know what I found out, and try to make her understand why I'm not going to do amything at all to the fawn.

Well, that problem is easily taken care of, since she, her daughter and her sister are all standing by my truck when I come outside.

None too happy about the three hours it took for me to show up.

I don't tell her it was on purpose.

But I do grab the binocs, and give each of them a close look at the fawn. And explain about ears, and scours. And the doe that's been coming around.

And they're okay with my "do nothing" approach.

Except, of course, that they will put a bucket of water out for the little guy.

Which will at least maybe keep him from standing in the street to get a drink.

As I drive off, I radio dispatch and let her know I've taken care of this call.

If she was concerned about my three hour response time, she didn't say.