I usually write out on the deck in the early mornings and late afternoons, and this is the deer family I've gotten acquainted with this summer. That's Gladys and her three wee little ones. They look cute as hell, but they're actually quite bratty. When Gladys gets tired of them, she hunkers down under the ponderosa pine off the corner of the deck and gives me a sly look as if to say, "Shhh! Please don't tell my brush rats where I am. My teats are sore and I really need some ME time!"
Not long later, though, here they come, peeping up a storm as they dash around looking for dear old mum. When they find her they get all happy and prance around and peep up another storm.
Poor Gladys. All in all, she's a good mother. Only two of those fawns are hers. I think she adopted--or was adopted by--the third one born to a deadbeat mom.
Meanwhile, I'm hammering away on my next Frank Leslie tome--BAD JUSTICE, a Colter Farrow yarn!
Mean Pete His Own Mean An' Nasty Self
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