From My Diary

Saturday, June 19, 2021

This morning, a fawn took up temporary residence on our doorstep.

Well, I assume temporary. It’s still there as I write this, about two hours after its appearance. It is very small—I can’t imagine that it’s more than a week old or so. Its mother was around earlier, and ran off, presumably to forage, as (internet tells me) is not uncommon. A friend suggested that to a deer our covered, brick-lined front porch simply looks like a convenient, safe, rock outcropping; and this seems quite plausible to me. I am certainly not an expert, but the fawn doesn’t seem visibly sick or injured, merely tired. It went to sleep a bit ago, in fact, quite like a dog, curled up—its rear leg even kicking a bit as it dreams.