Blacktail Deer Plateau we are, we are, we are, we are, we were

Just a few weeks ago, her family's den site had enchanted young Osprey Jr., each blade of grass and every broken stick occupying her hour after endless hour. Now, as she neared two months of age, the sooty whelp grew weary of the small dooryard. She sensed the great expanses of wilderness beyond and badly wanted to explore them, though an adult always seemed ready to hold her back. When she toed the line today, her mother's warning bark was just harsh enough to cause her to withdraw, ears flattened with both guilt and displeasure and a grunt loosing from her lips.

She plodded around the small clearing, found nothing of interest and, heaving a very heavy and dramatic sigh, threw herself to the ground far away from the others, who clustered nearer to the den proper. Sullenly, the youth's eyes (which had begun to subtly shift hue in the past few days) traced the invisible perimeters, searching for weak spots, knowing that one of the three adults would notice her if she tried to sneak away and catch her if she tried to run away... that, or one of the other pups would surely tattle on her.

It was as if she'd outgrown the tiny den site and no longer fit there comfortably. Feeling restless and defeated, Junior rolled slowly onto her back, then began to wriggle violently, kicking her legs in the air while grunting and growling as she vented both her pent-up energy and her frustration with the status quo.