I spent a goodly bit of my youth hiking in the woods and hills around Prescott where I grew up. Most times it was just peaceful if a bit lonesome. Some days you'd meet other folks or see some wildlife or other.
One day I heard flute music playing in the distance which was peculiar. I crept up to peek between the branches and see who was playing. And there she was, delicate as a flower, sitting alone in the tall grass naked as far as I could see.
I couldn't resist taking a step closer for a better look when a twig snapped beneath my boot.
Up she jumps on four hoofed feet an' bounds away among the pines. As I watched her hinde end bouncing among the boles I tell you I could not have been more shocked. You never see them this far south in the Spring.