This is what makes trips to the peninsula so addictive. There may be no activity for several days and then, out of the blue, comes a gift like this one, the fawn. You never know, and what a rush when it happens.
The day was brutal–high heat coupled with high humidity had heat indexes predicted at 105 and 108. It was beginning to cool down as I headed for the peninsula, but the wind was still strong. Reaching the halfway mark there was no sign of activity. Even the rabbits were still tucked away in the brush.
Walking down the unpaved trail that cuts through the interior, the setting sun nearly blinded me. I looked up and saw its faint, small outline, standing erect and looking straight toward me. It took a few seconds for what I was seeing to register, and then to react. I was certain that with the sun nearly directly behind the little deer, all I could get were silhouettes, but I snapped anyway. Why the photos weren’t silhouettes, I don’t know but I’m grateful.
At one point the fawn came running directly at me like a dog running to greet its owner. And honestly, I was trying to figure out what to do. It was so sweet and innocent looking I wanted to throw my arms around it and hug it. Fortunately, it stopped abruptly several feet in front of me; looked at me hard, then turned and galloped into the brush. It quickly vanished in the thick vegetation.
Needless to say–I floated off the peninsula tonight.