Rose and I were recently returning to Narrowsburg from Honesdale on Route 652 in the early evening. As we drove past Kaiser Strasse, cresting a small rise, the road bent slightly to the right and our headlights showed something on the pavement ahead of us.

While it wasn’t clear at first just what was in the road, it was definitely bigger than a skunk or a raccoon but smaller than a fully grown deer. I flipped to our high beams and switched on our hazard flashers as I inched forward. As the headlights fully illuminated the scene, Rose and I could see a fawn had been hit, driven over and was lying dead in the center of the road. The doe, which we assumed was the mother, stood protectively over her dead baby and, as we watched, the mother would occasionally lower her head and use her nose to nudge the inert form at her feet as if to try to wake the dead fawn. It was truly heart-breaking to watch.

Eventually, I was able to slowly ease around the doe and her fawn. As we continued toward the Interstate bridge, Rose said, ”You know that doe isn’t going to leave her fawn, and, between the curves and hills, I’m afraid she’s going to get hit, too.” Now, in 42 years of marriage, I’ve learned to respect Rose’s knowledge of both domestic and wild animals. So, as soon as it was safe to do so, I turned around, and drove back to where the doe was still standing over the fawn. I pulled off the pavement and parked the car with its hazard lights flashing where it could be seen by approaching traffic from either direction. Rose and I put on the reflective vests we keep in the back of the car for emergencies. After checking that there was no on-coming traffic, we carefully walked over to the dead fawn, gently picked it up, carried it across the ditch, up the bank and gently placed it on a bed of ferns. We continued on toward Beach Lake until we could safely turn around and continued back toward Narrowsburg. As we passed the location where we’d placed the fawn, I slowed down so Rose and I could see the doe still keeping her sad watch over the dead fawn, except now at a safe distance from the highway.

Part of what makes our river valley so beautiful and attractive is the wildlife we share it with. Please be careful when driving to help protect that wildlife.

Bob was born in Callicoon, NY and grew up on his parents’ dairy farm in Cochecton Center. After graduation from Narrowsburg High School, Bob received his civil engineering degree from the Polytechnic Institute of Brooklyn.