A Sudden Charge On The Gravel Trail
The man’s sneakers crunched along the asphalt edge as he stepped toward the treeline. Just a few feet away, a spotted fawn lay curled on the gray stones beside tall summer weeds.
Its mother stood upright over the tiny body, her ears swiveling forward to track his movement. The hiker gripped a clear plastic bottle of water in his right hand, keeping his stride slow and measured.
Two paces closer, the ground exploded. The doe dropped her head, kicked her hind hooves into the dirt, and lunged straight at his chest.
He jumped back onto the blacktop, thrusting both open palms out to shield himself. The bottle sloshed violently in his grip as small rocks skattered across the pavement beneath her quick strike.
She stopped inches away, her nostrils flaring and her dark eyes locked squarely on his face. The man let out a sharp breath, dropping his shoulders and letting his arms lower inch by inch.
Kneeling Down In The Heat
Neither the doe nor the fawn retreated into the safety of the green brush. The sun beat down directly onto the exposed roadside, where the midday heat radiated off the dark asphalt.
Instead of turning back, the man lowered himself onto his haunches. He sank down until his eyes were level with the mother deer, moving at a crawl so as not to trigger another defensive bound.
The doe took half a step backward, but her head remained low. She watched his hands as his thumbs worked at the plastic grooves of the bottle cap.
The plastic seal cracked with a loud pop that made both animals twitch. The tiny fawn lifted its slender chin, its speckled flank rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths against the hot gravel.
He twisted the cap entirely free and dropped it by his shoe. He didn’t stretch his arm out aggressively; he simply held his left hand flat, palm facing the sky, resting it just above his knee.
Cupping Water For The Thirsty Doe
A thin stream of clear water tipped from the bottle into his open palm. The liquid pooled inside his curled fingers, spilling in tiny drops over his knuckles onto the dry gray stones.
The doe stretched her long neck forward, sniffing the cool dampness in the air. Her black muzzle hovered above his skin, twitching as her whiskers brushed against his thumb.
Then her rough pink tongue reached out. She lapped the water directly from his open hand, her jaw working steadily as she swallowed each small pool.
He tilted the bottle again, refilling his palm as quickly as she drank. She pressed closer, stepping past her resting baby without a single trace of her earlier charge.
Her hooves clicked against the stones as she shifted her weight forward, fully focused on the stream trickling between his calloused fingers.
Sharing The Hand With Her Fawn
Once the bottle was empty, the man lowered his wet hand down toward the gravel. The doe followed his fingers downward, keeping her nose pressed directly to his palm.
The newborn fawn blinked its wide eyes and tilted its snout upward. Its mouth opened slightly, seeking the residual moisture clinging to his skin.
The man cradled his hand under the fawn’s small chin, letting the droplets run along its dark lips. The mother did not pull away or strike out; she leaned her head against the man’s knuckles, licking along the sides of his hand and over her baby’s damp muzzle.
Both deer nuzzled the palm of his hand together, their wet noses pressing into his skin while the empty plastic bottle sat completely still in the gravel beside his knee.
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