By Michael Goodwin

White tail deer are common around many Kansas lakes. At Clinton Lake they most often can be seen with tails flared like white flags as they bound away from hikers, runners or bikers. Not so on this September day.

I had been running for about 30 minutes on the Blue Trail at Clinton Lake when I descended into a shallow, rocky ravine near the water. Trail running requires continuous concentration on the next ten feet of trail in order to avoid face plants, twisted ankles or worse. As I focused on the oncoming rocks, in my peripheral vision I noticed something moving through the nearby trees on my right.

Stopping immediately, I stood frozen to the trail, catching my breath, heart pounding. As I slowly turned my head, I could now see a small brown fawn also frozen in place about 20 feet away. We both were unsure what to do next. So we just stood there curiously looking at each other, waiting for some sign that we should move or do something.

She was barely 3 feet tall! Where was her mother? The doe must be somewhere nearby, but I could not see her through the dense foliage. It seemed odd that this little one would be all alone and it obviously was not the source of the movement I had detected since it was not moving a muscle. Then, looking up the ravine past the fawn I noticed movement again among the trees above the trail. There was another fawn about 50 feet away from my little friend. And standing nearby was the doe. She seemed anxious that one of her babies had not fled with her as I had approached the ravine. Torn between her instinct to flee and the urge to protect her young, she simply stood there watching me, waiting.

(click to enlarge)

After what seemed like many minutes, I finally remembered the camera hanging from my shoulder. Scenes like this one are the very reason I had recently started taking my camera with me on trail runs. Apparently, the fawn had been patiently waiting for me to come to my senses and begin the photo session. After three photos and the associated clicks of the shutter, the fawn slowly turned and walked up the ravine to her waiting mother and brother.

Exhilarated, I walked slowly along the trail until I was out of their sight and resumed my run. Taking care not to frighten creatures you find on the trail will pay dividends when you discover them again in the future.

At the next trail intersection, I decided to switch over to the White Trail to return to the trailhead where I had started. The White Trail roughly parallels the Blue Trail, but it is further from the lakeshore and wanders higher into the ravines. The two trails at Clinton Lake State Park begin together at the East Trailhead parking lot south of the Corps of Engineer’s office. They then separate after about 1/10th mile and trace different paths along the shoreline. The Blue Trail is over 7 miles long while the White Trail is over 11 miles long. Periodically, the two trails cross over or are connected by a trail blazed in blue and white. White-over-blue blazes signify a connector trail from the White Trail to the Blue Trail and vice versa. Round trip routes can be developed by taking the Blue or White trail out to a connector trail and then returning by the other trail to the beginning point. The White Trail is more challenging than the Blue Trail because of numerous rocks, roots and ascents.

About twenty minutes after my encounter with the deer family, I had fallen back into a rhythmic pace. As I neared a left–hand curve in the trail, two tiny white flags went up as two fawns dashed off to the right across the upper section of the same ravine where we had met before. Again I stopped, remaining motionless for several minutes. Where was the doe?

White tail deer seem to have the perfect camouflage for these woods with coats of gray and brown that blend easily with the bark and soil of the background. Only their movement and their white tails make them occasionally stand out. It was movement that drew my eyes to the doe on the left side of the trail. She had not dashed off with her youngsters perhaps for the same reason that the little fawn had watched me earlier at the bottom of the ravine. Was she just curious?

As I remained still, she walked around on my left, pausing to peer at me from between the trees while I began to take photos. Her dark eyes and nose contrasted the white markings around her mouth. Then, with flared tail, she abruptly ran across the trail from left to right about twenty feet ahead. I thought that she was going to join her family and that the encounter was over. But she inexplicably stopped, looked at me, then reversed directions and bounded back to my left again. Over the next fifteen minutes she patiently walked around on my left at a safe distance of about twenty feet allowing me to leisurely shoot the rest of my film. Twice, she stomped her right front hoof as if to scare me away or at least to indicate that she was not intimidated by my presence. Finally, out of what appeared to be more boredom than anything else, the doe quietly turned, walked up the slope away from me and disappeared into the trees. I stood there for some time as the stillness of the forest enveloped me and my mind replayed the rare close encounter.

As I continued my run back to the trailhead, the next ten feet of trail once again absorbed my attention. I pondered whether the doe and her family had noticed my movement along the trail. Did they wonder why I had stopped to watch them and make strange clicking sounds with that thing hanging from my shoulder? Was it just curiosity?