Here's a deer narrative

It turns out that in nature, as well as in human life, mothers can be ambivalent. This evening I watched a doe in my back yard, moving snow aside with her hooves, nibbling what had to be second-class grass, and just hanging out. What is interesting is that the doe's two children, yearlings now, were hanging outside my back-yard gate. They were leery of making the leap. (One of them already had been hurt in the attempt.) The doe would move around, trying to forage, sometimes turning on my movement-activated backyard light, sometimes not. But it was of two minds. It would rush the fence, as though to leap it, but then quit and graze some more. Five minutes later, after kicking more snow aside and munching, it would rush the fence again, only to stop, stand there a moment, and then start grazing again. I watched for half an hour. Suddenly, it jumped over the fence and disappeared into the darkness. Who knows where it went. But, hey, I need to imagine my own narrative.