It was about 10 below the other morning, but I had a 9 a.m. appointment and had to go out. Still, as I looked into my back yard, those five big does were out there, shoveling a couple inches of snow with their front legs to reveal some grass, and I hated to bother them. But I had to go, so I opened my back door. The five leaped to attention as one, staring at me, ears at full staff, ready to vault over my fence and disappear down the alley. I walked out, shut the door behind me, and descended the few steps. I angled slightly away from them toward my garage door. The deer noticeably relaxed. I entered, pushed the button to raise the garage door, hopped into the car, started it, and looked into the rearview mirror.
There was a yearling, only feet from my rear bumper. I backed up an inch or two, then stopped. The deer stood there, apparently too young to fear a creeping car. I backed up some more, and then again, but slowly and haltingly, afraid of hurting the animal. It still didn't move. So, at a resolute one mile an hour, I advanced rearward toward the dumbhead.
It finally got the picture, and moved off.
I was a few minutes late for my appointment, but such is living in deerland.