The Heart grows "Fawnder"

Fawns this young -- and this one, Fawn Number Three this week, was not much larger than the cats -- have no scent.

We field tested this theory tonight.  Riding Blizzard in the back field, with Taffy dog jaunting alongside, I discovered that I was almost on top of this little creature. He was nested about three feet off the path we were on.

Taffy practically stepped on him.  I had a brief moment where my riding career flashed before my eyes and I wondered just how good my 'riding glue' was these days.  I fully expected that the fawn would bolt when Taffy's big poodle paws went thump right beside it. I fully expected that the fawn springing to action almost underneath him would cause Blizzard to go from blissfully unaware to audition for the Calgary Stampede in one second flat.

The fawn did not so much as twitch.  Taffy kept right on sniffing here and there. Blizzard kept walking like the well-behaved horse he can be.  I got my heart out of my throat, and fished the camera out of my pocket.

I was treated to a dirty look, but the fawn held still and did not blink.

It was a cool and drizzly afternoon. A half unfurled bracken fern is a poor umbrella.  I hope the doe didn't leave the little one there too long.  This one was much the youngest we've seen so far this spring.

This is one of the blessings of getting outside, unplugged from iPods and cell phones and outside noises.  The world offers up gifts like this -- the chance to get a close look at one of Nature's miracles.

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