Three fawns were nibbling on a shrub in front of the Agnello house as I approached on my morning walk. Two were quite small and one was a little bigger. The guy from up the street stopped at the stop sign in his black Lincoln. The first little fawn pranced across the street and under the guardrail on the other side. The second small fawn followed pretty quickly. The third, bigger fawn took up the rear. When she got to the guardrail, she started under and realized she was perhaps too big to fit. She looked up to see that the guardrail would take some doing. Vacillate. She eventually bent down and slumped under the guardrail. It was a full body slump: legs and back, but it was more feasible than a jump over.
I am now reading A natural history of empty lots: field notes from urban edgelands, back alleys, and other wild places by Christopher Brown. The subtitle fits. He walks among and observes the supposedly empty places that teem with life, mostly wild. His observing is solace in tumultuous times.
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