Something on the track ahead
The horses sense them first. They halt to look at us and we watch them.
A doe and her two small fawns.
The noise they make is like a whistle.
They wait in the long grass, reeds and whins on the moss
We ride on, thinking they’ve run.
Then Jack freezes on the track, fearful, splay-legged.
I dismount to lead him forwards.
Around the corner, leaf ears straining
There they are again, watching us, stalling their flight
Curious and terrified, a mother and her two fawns fleeing
Frightens him. I’m not surprised.