The young duiker was running erratically, its head going to ground every few meters, sniffing the grass, then taking off again.
Earlier in the day I had heard the blesbok snorting and it seemed they were anxious about a duiker, whose head I could just see silhouetted above the grass. Why would they be fearful of a duiker, I wondered. It stood stock still, watching the blesbok. I soon lost interest in the stalemate and carried on with what I was doing.
A while later a movement distracted me. The duiker again, this time running past the fence and stopping, looking behind her. After a few moments, she took off. I carried on working. It must have been almost an hour later I looked up and this is when I saw the young duiker.
Looking for his mum, I thought. How did she manage to lose him? The poor little fellow seemed quite distraught and took off in the wrong direction. I saw him a few moments later tearing down the hill about 100 metres away. I now began to watch. Soon he reappeared, this time sniffing the grass more keenly.
“Come on, little one, get it right this time,” I muttered, and gave a yelp of joy when he headed off along the trajectory of the buck who I now presumed to be his mother.
Alas, it was not to be. Again he appeared, sniffing the grass, turning in circles, checking again, and again. His pace was slower. I think he was being booted out of the nest, that his mum was deliberately abandoning him because it is time for him to face the big wide world on his own.
The phrase “uncoupling” came to mind, a phrase that made headlines when Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin parted ways. This game of hide and seek initiated by the parent, but not to be found, seemed an intentional ending of relationship, the bonds of motherhood being deliberately broken.
A number of children, nay, young adults, in my immediate community have left home and headed to universities and colleges this year and it has been interesting watching how each family has dealt with the new season. It made me think back to when my sons left the nest, and that awful feeling of amputation, a loss that kept hurting regardless of knowing that this separation was in their best interests.
From there, as always, my thoughts turned to my relationship with my heavenly Father, and the times that I have been uncoupled from Him, always by my actions, never by God cutting me off. Horrible, horrible, horrible. The feeling of emptiness, the echo of my voice sounding hollow in my ears. I never want to be in that place.
Thankfully, the word says the God of Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps, that He is always with us, we are never alone. But, like the little duiker, we sometimes need to go looking for Him, but unlike the duiker, we find Him, because He says He will be found by those who seek Him. I am so thankful this is true in my life – when I need Him most, my heavenly Father is always there.
As I left late yesterday afternoon, I saw the little chap curled up on the lawn.
“Be safe, little one,” I whispered, “be safe all our little ones.”
