I could see the deer yard where a flock of pregnant does herd together to keep watch through the cold days and nights before spring.

The deer yard was about half an acre in size where the deer congregated and I could watch them. I felt blessed.

They would lick and nuzzle each other.

Also from that window, a fox vixen with her luscious coat would leap on the rough bark of my old oak tree outside.

She would catapult her body again and again up the trunk until she could clutch the suet I left for the birds, embrace it with her jaws, and then inch her way down, so she could take it back to her kits—in some den not far away.

She would quickly return to the tree, over and over until nothing was left in the suet cage.

As spring and summer went on, she repeated this task until fall, a time when the kits could accompany their mother by leaving the den behind and finding food.