Even the doe in the field forsakes her newborn fawn because there is no grass.
Naphtali is a doe let loose that bears lovely fawns.
The voice of the Lord causes the oaks to whirl and strips the forest bare, and in his temple all say, “Glory!”
the waters of Nimrim are a desolation; the grass is withered; the new growth fails; vegetation is no more.
How the animals groan! The herds of cattle wander about because there is no pasture for them; even the flocks of sheep are perishing.