No pretty picture today.

Last night I was sitting in my chair in the den – it was about 6:30 pm – and I heard the sound of an animal being hit. In fact, I thought it might be a dog because I heard it cry out. I got up, grabbed a flashlight, told Don about it, and walked outside down to the road. I looked about 30 feet down the road and saw a deer lying there. A car stopped and the woman inside told me it was a deer and that it was still alive and that she would call 911. I returned to the house, told Don what was happening, and he put on some shoes, took the flashlight, and walked down the road to the deer.

I remained in the house for a bit trying to figure out who to call on a Friday evening when every place was closed. It’s impossible. Don stayed with the deer, which was quite young. He used his flashlight to direct traffic around the deer. The deer kept lifting his head, but couldn’t move. So Don crouched down, kept petting him and talking to him, apologizing for what happened to him, all the while trying to figure out how to move him without making his injuries worse. And then he sang to him.

By the time I got back out there, the deer had passed away. I spoke to the deer in much the same manner as Don. Don had me direct traffic as he moved the body off the road.

You know who didn’t care enough to stop and help the deer? The driver. Just as happened a few years ago when a woman hit a fawn in front of our house, stopped to check for damage on her car, and then drove on, even when – as I discovered about 30 minutes later, the fawn was lying there on the side of the road, not more than 10 feet away. Both then and last night, one of us stayed with the deer, speaking quietly, doing everything we could to offer some compassion, waiting for someone to get there and help, only to watch as the deer passed away.

And then there was the deer that was hit right in front of our house only a month ago. Again, the driver didn’t stop.

I know that it gets pitch dark around here and that deer can appear out of nowhere. Sometimes hitting them can’t be helped, careful as one might be. What can be helped is the appalling lack of compassion in the driver who thinks it’s okay to drive away. Even if he/she drives on out of shock, perhaps some frigging compassion might cause him to rethink his decision, stop further on down the road, and turn around.

It’s been a tough year on our little stretch of road. We’ve lived here over 14 years and we’ve never seen it this bad.

Don speaks of that experience with the deer as sacred. Bless him. Bless that innocent young deer who had all too short a life.