I looked out of the bedroom window one day last week to see the doe and her fawn at our backyard birdbath. The normal watering holes are dry... She's the only fawn in the neighborhood this year. A couple of years ago, the year of record rains, there were seven or eight. Maybe she's the only one born in this second drought year. Or she's the only one to survive.
The little one slurped from the saucer on the ground while the doe drank from the pedestal bath. But the saucer ran dry while the fawn lapped, and she was still thirsty. She circled the pedestal, and stretched, trying angles and stances. She tried over and over, from one side or the other, until she found a way to drink the high water.
As young as she is, she's already practicing survival. She may outlast this drought.