One winter afternoon I was sledding with my family out on our hill. We had been at it for long enough that our cheeks had gotten rosey and our fingers slightly numb. The sun was low in the sky, with the trees casting long shadows on the snow when Mom called to all of us and showed us she had found deer tracks heading into the forest. Because we live in Vermont, deer tracks aren't especially rare, but tracking animals is always fun, so we set out.
The tracks went straight to the woods, then on and on in circles around and through the pines and maples. We followed the winding, turning path for 50 or 60 feet until we found her. She was a smallish doe, with a bright white tail and a sleek black-brown coat. She was looking our way, obviously having heard us coming. She stared at us for a few long seconds, then she turned tail and bounded off into the trees. We looked down and saw that there was a divot where she had been sleeping, indicating that she had been there for a while. We walked back to the sledding hill marveling at the idea that there had been a deer not 200 feet from our house.