That fawn's odor is one of the two special outdoorsy odors that I'll never forget. The other one � a hawk � was similar. Clean, faint, pleasant, unique.
I had to go to class, so my buddy Wyatt went squirrel-hunting without me that day. When he came back to town, he came to my place with a hawk that he'd shot. He held it out to me.
"Here! Smell this!"
He had to persuade me that he wasn't trying to pull some kind of fast one on me, but after a minute or so, I dipped my schnozz into those breast feathers �
And what a delight that was! I've never looked at hawks in the same old way since.
