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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Small enough to hold in your arms, and barely strong enough to walk, this newborn fawn spent several hours a day recently resting on a bed of leaves … its solicitous mother occasionally emerging from the knotweed.