fawn

You are warm, and floating, but you don’t know that yet because you have never felt anything else. Sometimes you see shades of pink, orange, and red. Sometimes it is dark. You hear sounds, a rhythmic beating that never stops, and other sounds from further away. Sometimes you are rocked to sleep. This is your world.

Suddenly, the world gradually starts to get smaller until it becomes a hand that closes around you, squeezing. lightly at first, then letting go, squeezing, then letting go. Then the hand becomes a fist, clenching painfully and letting go just as suddenly. You are moving, soft hooves curled against your abdomen, your head crushed, and your neck stretched, but you don't know what moving is. Light hits you like a truck and you are dropped out into a completely new, painfully cold world. You are wet for the first time, and it is a horror you could have never imagined.

You fall onto wet leaves. A dark, rich smell, the smell of everything that has ever grown, ever lived, ever died, envelopes you, and the warm familiar smell of the world is now outside—of you—still here, but no longer the world. You are alone. Searching for warmth, for softness, you find you can push yourself up, shaky, but tall in this new world outside of the world.

She licks the cold away. You snuggle close and learn about food, warm and sweet. You suck a cozy warmth into yourself until you are fat with joy, exhausted, and lulled to sleep. You sink, warm inside and out, onto the cool damp leaves, and curl yourself back into the shape you have always been, close, so close, to her.

Quickly, one could even say instinctually, you learn to survive in the new world next to the world. You suckle and sleep. You learn, not only to stand but to run. You leap. You are grace, itself.

And you know, knew for millennia before you were here, that you must stay close to the world outside of the world.

Except for when she tells you to do the opposite.

When those times come, again, you find that you already know what to do: how to curl back up, a walnut in an invisible shell, and let the cool earth below you, the fragrant grasses around you, become your new womb. During those times alone, you sleep, long quiet dreams of light and dark, of a panoply of smells. You sleep and wait.

And she always comes back.

cervidae-great prince of the forest

[2]https://bambi.fandom.com/wiki/Great_Prince_of_the_Forest_(Title)

Great Prince of the Forest is a title used to refer to a stag who serves as a protector of the Forest. Duties of the Great Prince including watching over the deer herds[1] and warning animals of danger.[2][3] The title of the Great Forest King might be connected to the Great Prince of The Forest, as Bambi, one of the Great Princes of The Forest, was once referred to as "the Great Forest King",[4] which is unusual since it is usually elk that are referred to as "kings" while deer are usually referred to as "princes".

cervidae-fawn

https://www.mossyoak.com/our-obsession/blogs/deer/whitetail-deer-fawn-first-part-of-life

Within minutes of birth, most fawns will attempt to stand and take their first steps. They are very vulnerable to predators and at this point their survival depends on the doe. Many factors determine whether they will make it through the first week of life.

After giving birth, the doe eats the afterbirth, cleans the area, and bathes her fawns to eliminate scent. This reduces the likelihood of predators locating the newborns. Usually a fawn can walk a short distance within a half-hour of birth. To stay one step ahead of predators, a doe will move her fawn(s) shortly after birth and constantly relocate them during the first few weeks. This is often a reason why people try to “rescue” fawns seen on their property by themselves. To enhance survival, a doe will also force her fawns to bed apart and will almost never bed with them.