Kleven (Sun Bread, 2001, etc.) folds folkloric elements into this original tale, just as she incorporates yarn, swatches of cloth, cut paper, and bits of photos into her brightly busy paintings. The dancing deer captured by a greedy hunter explains that it won’t dance except to birdsong. The hunter rushes out to snare some birds—but they won’t sing unless inspired by wind in the pines. Out he goes again, to uproot some trees . . . and so on, until at last the exhausted hunter learns his lesson, returns the captives crowding his apartment to the wild, and asks the deer to teach him to dance. The contrast between the hunter’s barrenly geometric urban space and the verdant, freeform woodland visually underlines Kleven’s theme, as does the transformation of the hunter’s angular, angry stance to the exuberant, wide-open, very Chris Raschka–like curves of his closing dance. Part eco-awareness tract, part trickster tale, this delivers a heavily earnest message just lightly enough to keep it from sinking under its own weight. (Picture book. 6-9)