Trapped Beneath the Surface
Tiny hooves scrabbled against the slick concrete wall, slipping backward into a rolling bed of white golf balls.
The spotted fawn kicked frantically, trying to find traction against the vertical curve of the deep ball retrieval pit.
Every lunge forward ended the same way, with the small animal sliding down into the mound of plastic spheres.
Above the edge, a full-grown doe paced the turf, her neck stretched out as she peered down into the opening.
Her ears flicked forward and back with every muffled click of the golf balls shifting below.
A Rapid Approach Across the Fairway
Footsteps pounded across the mowed grass as a golf course groundskeeper sprinted toward the concrete enclosure.
He slowed his pace as he drew near, dropping his shoulders to avoid startling the doe standing guard at the lip of the pit.
The mother deer took two quick steps back onto the fairway, but kept her dark eyes locked on the opening.
She stomped one foreleg into the turf, maintaining her stance just feet away from the concrete ledge.
The man dropped to his knees, leaning his upper body over the edge into the shadowed pit.
Reaching Down to the Bottom
Down among the dirty golf balls, the fawn pressed its spotted body flat against the bottom corner.
Its chest rose and fell rapidly, its chin resting directly on the hard white spheres.
The man stretched both arms downward, extending his fingers toward the small animal’s flanks.
He placed one palm gently under the fawn’s chest and the other securely beneath its hindquarters.
The fawn remained still as the groundskeeper adjusted his grip, taking the animal’s light weight into his hands.
He leaned back onto his heels, lifting the young deer straight up past the concrete rim into the open air.
Back to the Grass
As the fawn cleared the ledge, its long, slender legs dangled and kicked lightly against the man’s forearms.
The doe took an immediate step forward, extending her neck toward the bundle in his hands.
The man lowered his arms, setting the fawn’s hooves down onto the soft green grass just inches from the doe.
Before the worker even pulled his hands away, the mother pressed her nose into the fawn’s spotted flank, licking its fur with broad, rapid strokes.
The fawn stood on trembling legs, shook its small tail, and pressed its head against its mother’s side.
Together, the doe and her fawn turned toward the tree line, bounding in rhythm across the sunlit fairway toward the woods.
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