On the slim margin of Little Crum Creek, few moments, though tender, can be private.

Like last year’s fawn, this summer’s newborn deer waits patiently on a hill under maple shade and weed, occasionally roaming to browse, until momma returns for a suckle and nuzzle in the surrounding sound of cicada songs.

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By fall, spring’s fawn has well outgrown her coat’s white dots.
But, rarely far from mom and sibling, she still often wears her share of the family’s spot in the sun.

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 A white-tailed deer doe in the mat of multiflora rose.