When my oldest, Matthew, was 8, I took him with me on a turkey hunt. I set him up next to a valley oak about 10 yards away from my tree. It was a warm day, and he promptly fell asleep, rolling over on his side. No turkeys responded to the calls, but soon a blacktail doe, trailed by a fawn, came up from down-wind. She walked up to the boy, sniffed his face, stepped back, then came forward and sniffed again. It disturbed him enough that he brushed his hand across his face, popping her on the nose. She jumped back about 20 feet in one hop, blew, then ran off blowing repeatedly with the fawn following, but hanging back and looking curiously back at the scene of the farce. I had been sitting still during the events, but eventually laughter took over. Matthew slept through the whole thing, and even when I showed him the tracks, would not admit that he had been that unconscious.