The View From Lisa's Window Lisa Epple   © Copyright 2026 by Lisa Epple

Photo by Diana Roberts at Pixabay.

We spend most days at home, and I take time from my daily household tasks to watch the seasons change and the busy natural world go by outside our windows. The outdoor creatures are just as industrious as we indoor creatures. They build cozy nests, spin elegant webs, and bury tasty acorns. They wash and groom themselves, and occasionally, each other. They look for good things to eat and nice places to sleep. And they do all these things right outside our windows.

The most frequent, and most entertaining, visitors to our yard are the deer. White-tailed deer are nervous and skittish, tending to stay constantly on the move, snatching a mouthful of grass or having a quick nibble at a flowering shrub as they go along their way. But the ones who live in this subdivision have found a pleasant sanctuary on our not-quite-six acres in rural Virginia. The deer feel safe enough to lie down in the grass close by and chew their cud with their backs to the house, sometimes for hours. We’ve even caught them seemingly watching television with us through the glass doors.

And there are a lot of them. It isn’t unusual for groups of 12-15 animals to congregate on the lawn at dusk. Generations of bucks have polished their antlers against one skinny pine tree’s bark, leaving long shreds of it to blow in the breeze. Visiting tradesmen who are also avid hunters look at the tracks and other evidence, and often say, with a certain glint in their eyes, what a big, thriving group we have here.

The deer make meandering trails through the mulch beds, and create extensive networks of dusty hoofprints crisscrossing the asphalt driveway. They don’t mind the blacktop, but they stop short of stepping on the concrete walkway. This path separates the lawn from the landscaped shrubbery encircling the house. The deer are tempted by the greenery, but even stretching out their necks, it’s out of reach for most of them. Occasionally, a brave animal will carefully place a single hoof on the concrete and lean over the path to have a cautious nibble. But it quickly backs away again to enjoy its illicit treat elsewhere.

The decorative lamppost in the front yard is also a subject of their attention. The deer rise up on their hind legs to knock the hinged cap back from the lantern light, exposing the inner bulb to the elements. I have to use a tall step stool to reach the cap and close it. But the lantern remains stubbornly, permanently off-center from its post.

Close encounters with the deer, however, are very rare. The most memorable occurred one hot summer afternoon while I was weeding a patch of grass at the edge of our property. I glanced up to find two pairs of innocent eyes looking back at me. Across the narrow country lane, two little spotted fawns were standing amongst the shrubbery, calming nibbling on the leaves. I was more startled than they were.

I kept very still, waiting for them to move on, but they just watched me and kept on chewing. The fawns must have been so young that they hadn’t yet learned fear. We stood there for a long time looking at each other across the road, long enough for my feet and back to start aching. I still had my weeding to do, so I slowly resumed my task. The two fawns watched me for a while longer, then quietly disappeared into the woods.

The other remarkable encounter occurred outside my bedroom window. It overlooks a small grassy side yard bordered by a mulch bed, and the forest beyond. The first line of trees standing all in a row ahead of the deeper woods are Bradford pears. In the spring, they briefly produce clusters of pretty little white flowers that look like stars, but smell like rot. The stinky blossoms then give way to oval and heart-shaped green leaves which turn a rich, dark purple-red in autumn.

It was under these trees that a doe and her fawn walked into view one warm spring day. The spotted baby was so tiny it must have been very new to the world. As the mother grazed peacefully, the fawn ran up and down along the tree line, occasionally making comical little bunny hops, delighting in its youth and health, and the beautiful day. The fawn never strayed far and every few laps, it would return to its mother’s side as if to say, “Are you watching me, Mommy? Did you see me?”

Then, another doe casually walked onto the scene. The two big deer seemed to greet one another, then began licking out each other’s ears, while the fawn ran circles around them and under their bellies. This charming vignette lasted for some time, then the mother and baby slowly began to move on. The second doe started to follow, but abruptly turned and walked straight up to my window.

The deer lifted her muzzle up high, as if she was trying to look inside. I was sitting right there at the closed window, with my nose almost pressed to the glass, and could see her eyelashes – she was that close. And big. Deer don’t look very substantial from a distance, but up close, they’re huge. Large eyes, long ears, a broad back, and very tall at the shoulder.

But my window is about six feet off the ground, and the deer could only reach the windowsill with the tip of her muzzle. She didn’t attempt to rise up on her hind legs. The doe pushed at the window frame a bit, twitched her nose briefly, and then she was gone. I sat back and marveled at her boldness. Had she actually seen me and come over to investigate, or was this random curiosity? I’ll never know, but it’s nice to think about.

We feel fortunate that the deer have chosen our property as one of their favorite places to visit. They ornament our lawn, entertain us, and provide plenty of stories to tell our friends. All we have to do is look out our windows.