July 27, 2020
This summer I’m living a Where’s Waldo? book. Every time I step into the front yard I can count on a fawn and myself mutually scaring the bejeesus out of each other. I’ll obliviously walk by or close a car door or pull out the hose, not even seeing it, and the fawn will flush from hiding, noisily kicking up leaves and startling me in turn.
OK, this cutie stayed put this afternoon when I returned from the grocery store and started hauling bags out of the trunk. I happened to glance to my right, down the path to the stone steps — I probably felt eyes boring into my head — and hello!
She lay calmly as I took her picture from the driveway, her front hooves neatly tucked under her body. Honestly, I don’t recall seeing so many young fawns so late in July before, young enough that their mothers hide them while going off to browse.
Yesterday she (if the same one) lay hidden behind the big ‘Green Goblet’ agave, in a bed of soft woolly stemodia, partly screened by paleleaf yucca.
I happened to see her while getting the shovel out of