In the fading light, my husband spots movement on the road ahead. At the entrance to our subdivision, he slows the car to allow a deer to leap over the fence, then dash across the road into the brush. As the car begins to creep forward, more movement makes him pull the car over to the edge of the road and completely stop, mesmerized by what we see.
Excitedly we see an additional four young deer. Our eyes travel up the field to discover more. How many are there? As we count, more come galloping down to the fence. One, two, three, six, seven, still more! Some leap effortlessly, however, some freeze in their tracks. They stare at the fence, hoping a gate will magically swing open. They mill about, confused. What should they do?
One decides if you can’t go over it, you go through it. It stumbled between the slats, then took off running. The others have been still too long. One brave soul took a running start and sailed over the fence. This gave the rest courage to try. One by one they flew over the fence and disappeared into the brush. At least a dozen passed us at dusk one evening.