It's almost the end of June in the Midwest, and doe whitetail deer in our neck of the woods are still hiding their fawns. Of course, by the time this finds its way into print, bowhunting season will have opened in most places, but that's not the here and now.

Now, it's early summer. When you live in whitetail country, it's always amazing to realize how efficient female deer are at hiding and protecting their fawns.

I live in the woods, so I know there must be fawns nearby, but I seldom see them. I caught a glimpse of a tiny tot following mama in the headlights one evening, but I don't think I was supposed to see. The fawns seem late this year. What does that mean? Who knows, perhaps something to do with a second rut last fall, late breeding, first-year mamas, too few bucks, or maybe just weather. It's been a cool May and June, well below average and we were warned of possible frost just the other night. At 6 a.m., as I write this, my outside dial reads 40 degrees.

I know there's a crop of fawns, because I see their tracks in the lane when I walk the dogs each morning. The tiny hoof prints are about as big as a man's thumbnail. Also, there are a couple of different resident does who favor the clover and forbs on the edge of our yard and their careful visits and entry and exit from the same place tell me they've got fawns in hiding nearby. We keep the dogs near, not because they are deer chasers, they're not, but we don't want them to run across a tiny fawn, mistake it for a squirrel and scare the bejeezus out of it. Our female mutt loves to chase squirrels, and anything else that's smaller than a picnic cooler and runs, preferably in the opposite direction. She's twice had collisions with the back end of a porcupine, frolicked with a beaver or two, treed most of the coons who come too close and is on a first name basis with every chipmunk in the neighborhood. Apparently, she's also had a run in with a fawn.

My wife and I didn't actually witness the dog/fawn meeting, but the pieces of the story fit together pretty well.

The event started with my wife walking the dogs on one of those fine days when the air was cool, the sun warm and the forest dappled by that soft green light of early summer. Erma, our varmint-chasing dog, had done her usual disappearing act, caught in the fervor of some chipmunk chasing frenzy (this dog needs a 12-step program). Erma had been out of sight for a while when she came running back through the forest.

My wife heard the dog before she saw it, Erma's yips of pain getting closer, screened by the thick foliage. When she finally got a glimpse of the tan dog she also got a look at the problem. A whitetail doe was in hot pursuit of the canine, putting the hurt on the dog with its front hooves with every third or fourth bound. The doe actually knocked the 50-pound dog over just before spotting my wife and turning tail.

Trust me, deer don't regularly chase dogs where we live, so this was a first for us, and probably for Erma. There's no doubt that the dog came too close to this doe's fawn, and took a licking for it. I applaud the deer, and am glad to see further proof that whitetail does can take care of themselves and their offspring.

Erma's encounter also re-confirms that there are more whitetail fawns around than we're seeing. It won't be long before the little fellas are out playing in the open, jumping and kicking and running ahead of mama rather than following behind. And that means it won't be long before the bucks start coming out of seclusion and the whole cycle of the fall season is in full swing. You're already there. I can't wait.