This morning, between rowdy thunderstorms, I heard an odd sound.

Gary and I were sitting together in our sunroom, gazing into our backyard, which – after all the recent rain – looks like a jungle.

The noise was pitched high enough that Gary couldn’t hear it. Years of high-frequency milking machines will do that to you.

It almost sounded like an alarm: two tones in fairly rapid succession and then silence.

By late afternoon, I’d forgotten all about it. Then suddenly, it started up again – much louder this time. So I looked out one of the south windows and saw this little fella:

Gosh, it had been at least six hours, and this fawn was still calling (bleating, actually) for its mama.

Desperating hoping we didn’t have a Bambi situation on our hands, I called for Gary. He says the fawn is probably just a bit more than a week old. And then he told me a story …

Once upon a time (as all good stories start) …

… a Farmer King and a Farmer Prince were cutting hay on a beautiful, sun-shiny day. Suddenly a tiny fawn jumped out right in front of them, looking lost and scared.

Well the Farmer King knew his daughter … Fair One … would love to see a baby deer up close, so he gently scooped it up in his arms and brought him home.

Indeed, Fair One fell instantly in love with the fawn. Her eyes filled with tears when the Farmer King said they needed to release it – already named Roscoe – back into the woods.

The Farmer King was very kind-hearted and told Fair One she could keep Roscoe, as long as she took good care of him.

So Fair One bottle-fed Roscoe, gave him tender grass and leaves to eat, and took him for walks.

Roscoe lived happily with Fair One for two years. Then one day the Farmer King’s neighbor whispered in his ear that the law of the land didn’t allow even the most fair of princesses to keep a deer as a pet. That very night, there was a plan to capture Roscoe and take him away from Fair One.

The King had never heard of this law. He gently told his daughter it was time for Roscoe to rejoin his family in the woods. Fair One was sad, but understood. She hugged Roscoe one last time and her father took him back into the forest.

That night, when the Sheriff of NaughtyLand stormed the castle, demanding the release of the deer, the Farmer King was able to shrug and truthfully reply, “Huh?”

Since this is a fairy tale, we’ll decide that Roscoe lived a long, happy life with his family in the forest.

The End.

Disclaimer: Any similarity to actual persons – or animals – living or dead, is purely coincidental. That goes double if the statute of limitations for innocently caring for a lost fawn is longer than 53 years.

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