I had an errand at nearly noon, down to the old log barn that was here when we bought the property. In the three years of living here we have worn a path down some old stone and concrete steps, across one of the planks that ford the irrigation ditch and down through a swampy bit of cat tail marsh. It has been unusually wet for a Wyoming spring, so I wore my clumping wellies. [If I were to meet a snake, I would feel much more valiant in boots!] Squelching along I stopped to photograph some fat brown mushrooms and a stalk of milkweed. Headed back toward one of the alternative crossing planks I plodded through the edge of the marsh--and literally tripped on the fawn. In the instant that it took to check my forward momentum and rock back on my heels, the tiny thing was bounding away up the shady ditch bank. It disappeared into the tangle of tall grass, saplings and Russian Olive. Heart pounding, I looked around for the doe, but she didn't appear. All that was left behind for evidence of what I had discovered was the tiny oval of flattened grass and the trail of its passing through the grass.
Little creature, come back to the safety of the cat tails--I didn't meant to frighten you!