It was Spring of 1999 when Anna found the fawn, alone and dying in the grassy paddock of Unicorn Hollow, her farm in bucolic Tewksbury, New Jersey. The sick baby triggered vivid memories of her own catastrophic injuries as a small child, and their bond grew strong.

Named Blossom, the pet fawn thrives and matures into a sleek doe with a big personality. She lives in and out of the house–never choosing between her wild herd or the human family who raised her. Protecting a deer within a rural hunting community soon turns into a drama with many ramifications.

Notoriety makes Blossom a target–to look at–or shoot at. Newspaper articles started the conversation. Neighbors and hunters joined up to protect the Wild Ambassador of Tewksbury. Others bragged about using Blossom as bait and laughed about Blossom burgers.

Please Don’t Shoot Blossom posters pop up everywhere–in neighborhood shops and restaurants–on trees adjacent to hunting stands deep in the woods.

On September 11, 2001, families in Tewksbury suffered devastating losses from the terrorist attack in nearby NYC. Coping with grief becomes a community reality, and Blossom becomes a sort of touchstone for hope and healing.

Blossom is five when an orphaned male fawn, rescued from drowning, is brought to Anna’s barn. Baby Boomer becomes part of the family, delighting all with his young-buck antics. Two deer sporting reflective collars now graced the Tewksbury landscapes. One with itchy antlers. Boomer and Blossom are inseparable.

A persistent stalker starts a campaign of terrifying warnings. Say goodbye to your deer today, he says. She’ll be dead by dark.

Neighborhood friends jump to the alert when the pair go missing. Local hunters, fond of Blossom, watch out for their Wild Ambassador. The police, however, cannot be bothered. It’s just a deer. The first day of the bow-hunting season, Blossom returns home, alone, her mouth and tongue bloodied. Embedded in her cheek is a long piece of wood with a bright blue stripe at one end.

Reality must be faced.

A month later, Blossom brings Baby Boomer home–with an arrow through his back! With each agonizing step the embedded arrowhead slices through his shoulder. A veterinarian volunteers to operate, but the X-rays are not encouraging.

It’s Christmas. Unicorn Hollow, normally a melange of intermittent rustlings, pawings, and murmurings, stands mute when Anna, Blossom at her side, finds Boomer’s blood-stained collar shoved into the mailbox.

As if weeping–or perhaps merely saying goodbye–Mother Nature begins to snow. Blossom steps towards the woods and her wild herd.

Just behind the stone wall, she pauses, turns to look at Anna …