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."