The Fawn

         I look out my back window and see the fawn approach with her mother and two of the other does. Her spots are beginning to fade and seem to be melting into her soft brown fur.
         She’s grown so much this summer. When I first saw her it was only with binoculars, as she waited patiently at the back of the field, her head poking out of the tall grass while her mother ventured forward to our feeding station in the backyard. I always imagined how eager she must have been to join her, afraid at being left alone, maybe even a little angry at her mother’s insistence to stay back. I’d crane my neck at the windowpane just to get a glimpse of her, and I was counting the days until she’d be allowed to emerge.
         She moves away from the others, walking sure-footedly towards the bowl of deer corn practically under my nose. The delicate features of her face and torso absolutely take my breath away. I am humbled by this miracle of nature and amazed at my good fortune in being its' witness. For a brief moment her expressive dark eyes meet mine and I desperately try to convey my love and admiration. She continues her approach and I am comforted by the thought that she is not, at least, afraid of me.
         I awake from my trance to discover I’ve lost sight of the mother. All three does stand together, one indistinguishable from another. Studying the adults, I intuitively decide that the mother is the doe closest to the fawn, the one whose eyes are stretched wide and filled with worry. She stares intently, stomping the dirt and snorting, trying desperately to get her fawn‘s attention without success. I can feel a lump growing in my throat as I see her head slightly drop, as in sadness. The other does move closer to her now, as if to support her. The three of them are a wall of protection, ears and eyes alert to any possible danger. They do not touch the corn lying on the ground just beneath their feet. The fawn reaches the bowl and claims it for herself. She is relaxed and completely vulnerable.  Every so often she lifts her head briefly, sneaking a glance at the does for reassurance. 
         At last she turns to rejoin the group. I sigh in relief and laugh at myself as I watch the four of them walk with purpose towards the tall grass together.