Spring is my favorite time of year because of the cool morning breezes, the stunningly beautiful days, and dusk that whispers the promise of a bright, starry night. However, dusk during spring always takes me back to a memory I will not soon forget.

My husband used to repossess vehicles for a living. Most of the time, he would head out at dusk and stay out all night. I loved going with him when I could. It was like our own little adventure, and sometimes there was adventure.

Anyway, one night we headed south on our local highway. I glanced over to the feeder road and noticed there was an animal of some kind. Honestly, it looked like a Chihuahua or other small dog that was having trouble getting up. I feared a car had hit it.

I gestured to my husband and he immediately cut across the median to go help. He loves helping animals or people. I was secretly grumbling because I really did not want to see a little dog suffering. However, what we saw was nothing short of miraculous.

As we approached the animal, we were surprised to see three different figures, two small and one large. It took a few minutes for our eyes to take everything in and then communicate with our brain what was happening.

The large figure was a female deer that had been hit by a car. She was long gone and her abdomen looked like a bomb went off. The two small figures were babies, alive and unharmed.

I crouched down by the babies while my husband called the police. (The police would take the babies to Texas Parks and Wildlife). The fawns were covered in wet afterbirth and shivering from the cool spring air. I ran to the truck and grabbed our sweatshirts, wrapped the babies and tried to rub them so they would warm up.

I had a history of working in a veterinarian’s office and remembered after we delivered a calf by C-section, the doctor asked me to keep the calf from being too mobile. I used that information to try to keep the fawns from getting up.

Earlier that day, I met someone who bottle-fed deer, which was weird because I had never met anyone like that before and haven’t since. I had the person’s number in my phone and decided to call it.

I was disappointed to hear that they wouldn’t help the babies and even said that they most likely would not survive because they didn’t get any of their mother’s milk. I simply refused to believe it. Their birth was a miracle and miracles have happy endings, or at least that is what I choose to believe.

A police officer came and picked up the fawns, and I never saw them again. I wish I would have called and checked to see if they did survive, but perhaps I was afraid of the answer.

Not knowing, I was able to make up my own story, in which they did survive and were frolicking.

Those little guys lost their mother and had a grim chance at survival, but they had already defied all odds by entering life unharmed, despite the mother’s devastation.

This story stayed with me over the years.

I wish it were in a time when we had cameras on our phones because I would have loved to have a picture.

However, I do still have the picture in my memory and the impact it made on my heart.

Jennifer Watson is a Herald correspondent.

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