Cocktail hour

We had a surprise guest last evening for nibblies. I had my gin and tonic, Cindy a glass of wine, and this lovely a few windfall crabapples. The crabapple tree practically brushes the windows of the living room, and the deer calmly stood and chewed while we scurried for the camera. If she would have permitted it, we could have reached out a hand through the window and stroked her supple neck.

I expect she was the mother we saw on Monday crossing the road with her two fawns (and not the mother I saw last month with her three fawns, which were considerably bigger). Maybe there's kind of a baby sitting cooperative among the neighborhood deer, allowing each mother some personal time to herself. This would explain the single doe I saw eating our neighbor's rose bush a couple of weeks ago. The deer certainly seem to have adopted human ways, or at least they've lost some of their fear of the two-legged monsters. Apples and roses seem to be worth the risk in spite of the humans in their clapboard cages.
It does ask the question about the father(s). I shouldn't be so sexist as to assume he wasn't doing the baby-sitting, but I'm afraid it's probably true. We never see male deer around the houses here. They must be off in the deeper woods, protecting the seed, while the womenfolk get civilized.