Walking down the driveway to the mailbox yesterday, I passed not two feet from a tiny fawn curled up on the gravel garden path atop a cushion of green sedge. She didn’t move a muscle, holding completely still in hopes I wouldn’t see her, and I played along, walking past with no sign of the surprise I felt.

I moseyed to the far side of the mailbox so she wouldn’t feel threatened and turned to take another look. Out of all that sedge and taller plants she could hide in, look where her mama put her, in plain sight at the edge of the path. Still, she’s so tiny that it would be easy to miss her if you weren’t looking. (It pays to look, always.)

She stayed there for hours, waiting for Mama to return from her midday meal. (Deer hide their fawns during the day and go browse, but they come back to get them, which is why you should never disturb a fawn if you find one alone.)

Such a sweet little thing.

I’ve no fondness for their parents, but who can resist a baby?

That face! Those spots. That wrinkled nose.

My neighbor across the street came outside and pointed out another fawn hiding in his sedge lawn. Sedge makes a good nursery, it seems.

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Digging Deeper

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