Who Wouldn't Want To Live Here?

It rained all day Thursday, a good day for writing and a good day for growing (if you are a garden). It was, apparently, also a good day for giving birth.
My mother's second-floor room has four large windows in it so she has a 300 degree view of our property (she can't see the south part) with a sweeping vista of the fields. She hollered to me where I was working down the hall in an old bedroom converted into an office that a deer was trotting up and down the lane.
"That's nice," I replied.
A while later, she hollered that the deer was lying down so I got up to look this time. By the time I trained the binoculars on her, she got up and jumped over the fence, disappearing into the woods. I thought that was the last of it until another while later, my mother hollered again (hollering is our intercom system) that she now had a fawn with her.
Now I abandoned my work in order to watch as the doe tried to get her new, tiny baby through the ditch and into the field so they could head to our pine plantation where they would be safe and sheltered. The fawn wouldn't or more likely couldn't get through the tangles of alder bushes and wild rose bushes and weeds that have grown up in the deep ditch. My mother and I like to believe that sending the message, "Go to the driveway on the other side of the wood pile," as we stood watching through the window actually got through to the doe.
Note in the third photo that in the middle of all this, another doe appeared at the top of the lane.