Rowan climbed onto the log.
He stayed there for a while, sniffing along its surface and manipulating the bark with his front paws.
Then he climbed back down.
The next time was easier.
Soon the low log wasn't a challenge anymore.
That meant we could ask another question.
Could Rowan move between structures?
His first gaps were small enough that he could almost step across them.
Gradually, however, the distance required more commitment.
Rowan would need to push.
For the first few attempts, he chose not to.
He approached the edge, looked toward the next surface, then climbed down and found another route.
We didn't force him.
The choice itself gave us information.
Then one afternoon, Rowan reached the end of a low log and stopped.
Another log was positioned a short distance away.
He crouched.
His hindquarters lowered.
For a second, he remained completely still.
Then he pushed.
Both hind legs extended.
Rowan crossed the gap.
His landing wasn't perfect.
He shifted sideways and caught himself with his front paws.
But he stayed on the log.
More importantly, the recovering hind leg had contributed to both the takeoff and the landing.
The next jump looked better.
Then came another.
Over the following days, Rowan began moving through the enclosure differently.
He wasn't simply navigating around his injury anymore.
He was using the leg.
The distinction mattered.
The shaved patch on his thigh made it easy to follow the movement of that side of his body.
New fur had started growing through the area, but it remained noticeably shorter than the surrounding coat.
Whenever Rowan crouched before a jump, the patch stretched across his thigh.
Then the leg compressed.
Pushed.
Landed.
The area that once marked his greatest limitation was now moving through increasingly normal patterns.
Still, we weren't ready to call him recovered.