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.





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.


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