Two Fawns That Didn't See the Light This Spring
by Gary Snyder

A friend in a tipi in the 
Northern Rockies went out
hunting white tail with a 
.22 and creeped up on a few
day-bedded, sleeping, shot
what he thought was a buck.
"It was a doe, and she was
carrying a fawn."
He cured the meat without
salt, sliced it following the
grain.

A friend in the Northern Sierra
hit a doe with her car.  It
walked out calmly in the lights,
"And when we butchered her
there was a fawn-about so long-
so tiny-but all formed and right.
It had spots. And the little 
hooves were soft and white."