Just ahead of us, a sudden movement through the trees and bramble catches our attention.
We are not in the deep woods and the baby is strapped to my chest, so I am hopeful that we are not about to have an encounter with a bear. Running with an almost twenty-pound baby would not be impossible, but it certainly would not be enjoyable for long.
I mentally sort through my self-defense options. I quickly rule out the snout punch, karate chop, flying kick and sadly settle on leaving my husband behind as bait while we make our clumsy getaway. Unfortunately, sacrifices must be made at times like these and he is about to be a snack.
Still peering through the shadows, my heart skips a beat. It’s a big-eyed doe staring back at us with a newly born fawn, standing on spindly legs, nursing underneath of her. I breathe a sigh of relief, we are all safe and the baby will continue to have a daddy.
However, I am in disbelief that we have wandered onto such an intimate moment and feel very NatGeo. More than that, I feel greedy and wish I had a camera to snap the image and save it forever, not that a picture could capture the heart connection that I feel with the doe or the beauty of the pair, and instead I settle on committing the experience to my unreliable memory.
In another instant, the sweet mama is gone with her babe in tow. I squeeze my little guy, wanting to share the moment with him, only to discover that he is fast asleep, dreaming his milk dreams.