Even the deer don't want to get up

It was 14 degrees outside at 7 this morning. The sun was up, I was up, the deer were not. Curled on the ground in underbrush about 30 feet from the kitchen window were four deer, heads up, ears twitching. Nearby, a few hungry juncos hopped around under the bird feeders. Lucky for them, birds using the feeder are sloppy and routinely throw seeds to the ground. Juncos seem to be ground junkies.

Slowly, one doe gets up and spends an amazing amount of time standing on three legs while slowly chewing on something inside the raised leg.  I have an inane thought--is it possible for a deer to nurse on itself? Can I find the answer to that question on Google? Finally, she drops her fourth leg and meanders around munching on something on the forest floor. The recling deer stare away from all this activity, chewing their cuds. Irritated at the inactivity, the doe goes over to the smallest recliner and taps it on the back with a foreleg. Interesting. I'd never seen this before. The small deer, probably her fawn, wobbles up, stretches, takes a few steps, and, like all teenagers, goes back to bed. A few minutes pass before mom gives up and returns to bed herself.

Twenty minutes later, after some serious procrastination on my part, I leave the house to go swimming.  The deer have all stood up and begun their trek through the forest toward doing whatever it is deer do all day. They were wearing their winter coats of taupe, matching the cold bark of the trees, making them disappear more easily into the scene. The lead doe stops to watch my car go by, totally adjusted to the presence of human life in her turf.

Before discovering this group outside the kitchen, I'd had the good fortune to watch two other deer very clearly through my office window as they strolled the driveway eating acorns from the gravel. Not often I get a view good enough for videotaping. Shot through the window screen, it is a bit fuzzy.