Approached by a White Tailed Deer fawn

It’s lunchtime and I’ve brought lunch out into the garden here in Virginia. As we walk down to the lawn there’s a startled deer. It looks at us and then walks off away into the shade of the trees. We’re so busy watching it that we don’t notice that its bandy-legged fawn in still sitting on the lawn.

“Oh no,” I say, reflexively.

It struggles to its feet, all strange articulated joints like a shopping bag on stilts:

White Tailed Deer fawn - The Hall of Einar - photograph (c) David Bailey (not the)

Then it starts wobbling towards us, swaying as if it’s going to collapse at any moment:

White Tailed Deer fawn - The Hall of Einar - photograph (c) David Bailey (not the)

Stretching its legs it gets confidence and momentum. It’s heading straight for The Puffin Whisperer:

White Tailed Deer fawn - The Hall of Einar - photograph (c) David Bailey (not the)

I’m having problems knowing how many legs it has. Logic tells me there are four, but this little fawn is making me doubt my own senses:

White Tailed Deer fawn - The Hall of Einar - photograph (c) David Bailey (not the)

It stops as it gets closer. It is sniffing the air, full of trepidation:

White Tailed Deer fawn - The Hall of Einar - photograph (c) David Bailey (not the)

It is so close to us now, The Puffin Whisperer could touch it. It has a huge underbite and such a delicate poise:

White Tailed Deer fawn - The Hall of Einar - photograph (c) David Bailey (not the)

Its mother is still in the shade. We leave and watch from above as it is reunited with its mother. It can’t be very old – they are born in May or June.

White Tailed Deer fawn - The Hall of Einar - photograph (c) David Bailey (not the)

We talk about it for ages afterwards.

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