Too Much Nature, Dear (Deer)

Sometimes getting back to nature is a little more than I bargained for. My husband and I are away for Labor Day Weekend at our little slice of heaven lake cabin. We got up early this morning to drive to a small town 15 miles away to have breakfast at a cafe named one of the 40 best cafes in our state.

When I went out to the car with visions of biscuits and gravy in my head I was distracted by a noise from across the road. Curiosity got the best of me, so I ventured over to the pick up truck bed that had been transformed into a trailer which our neighbor filled with hundreds of pounds of Milo to feed birds, deer, and to throw into the lake to lure catfish to the fishing area he frequents. As I crossed the sandy dirt road I heard the noise once more - a thudding and shuffling sound I couldn't place. Then I saw animal legs on the far side of the Milo trailer. Thinking it might be the cougar rumored to be in these parts, I approached slowly and with caution. To my horror, the noise was not a cougar rolling on its back and thumping the sides of the trailer with its paws. It was a deer, a large deer was somehow caught in the trailer by one leg. A deer was thrashing on the ground while one leg - one hoof was stuck in an opening on the top of the trailer. No contortionist could have achieved this position. Calmly, I called my husband, not wanting to disturb, or further alarm the injured deer. He quickly appeared by my side and determined the deer's leg must be broken. We had to somehow deal with this. The deer was obviously suffering - the deer should be relieved of its pain.

Perhaps we have both seen too many old western movies, but both of us had the idea that the humane thing would be for the deer to be shot, to be put out of its misery. We wouldn't own a gun. We don't hunt or shoot animals. But this poor deer had probably been suffering most of the night, trying to free itself. We roused a neighbor with a request for help. While waiting for him to dress, I had a moment of good sense and called the local Sheriff, asking him to shoot the injured deer; to put it out of its misery. Our neighbor arrived on the scene, assessed the situation, went to his pick up truck, got a crow-bar and pried the deer's hoof loose from the hole in the trailer where it was stuck. The deer, stunned and exhausted, ran about four feet from the trailer and collapsed. We surmised that the Sheriff would still need to shoot the deer to humanely put the animal out of its misery. As we discussed the fate of the deer and awaited the arrival of the Sheriff the deer suddenly bolted and ran for the cover of the brush. The three of us all agreed the deer would survive, perhaps with only a leg injury. We notified the Sheriff that he was no longer needed and went on with our plans - thankful our neighbor showed up with a crow-bar rather than a shotgun.

At the cafe, for breakfast, my husband asked me if I had an aspirin, he didn't feel much like eating. The prospect of killing the beautiful wounded creature had sickened him, as it had me. Neither of us enjoyed our breakfast, though no fault of the cafe.

On our fifteen mile return trip we couldn't help but notice the deer blinds in place for this year's hunting season. I'm sure we were both considering the fate of the poor deer we saw rescued this morning.

Would it get another chance?