A deer gives birth in a field, then abandons her newborn fawn and leaves in search of grass.
Naphtali, you are a wild deer with lovely fawns.
The voice of the LORD makes deer give birth before their time. Forests are stripped of leaves, and the temple is filled with shouts of praise.
The streams of Nimrim and the grasslands have dried up. Every plant is parched.
Our cattle wander aimlessly, moaning for lack of pasture, and sheep are suffering.