Friday, August 01, 2008

Friday Favorites: Oh Deer

My mom nonchalantly suggested a tire iron as the most obvious solution to a “little” problem we encountered traveling through Utah three years ago.

This particular drive felt like our millionth six-hour trek to Colorado. We memorized the extended stretches of two-lane highway snaking through the barren, red-dirt desert. We (usually) refrained from swearing at drivers blinding us with their brights and we (often) resisted the urge to flip off maniac minivans tempting fate by passing five cars in the face of a speeding semi.

We actually looked forward to these road trips, so we could blast Cake (must-have travel tunes) and sing at the top of our lungs, discuss the future of the world and our plan to conquer it, get hyper (okay, maybe just me) and drive each other bananas, make memorable emergency stops at small-town gas stations (a story for another day).

So there we were – rocking out, intellectualizing, giggli----

Suddenly our headlights illuminated the tip of an antler. Chris slammed on the brakes (frantically glancing between the road and rearview mirror to make sure no cars would smash into us), but the deer leaped forward. In a split second it was in the middle of our lane. Our tires left thick black stripes on the pavement as Chris pounded the brakes. The deer was within inches of clearing our path when it collided with the right corner of the hood.

We were finally able to stop 50 yards later.

Warm tears misted my eyes as a panicked whisper escaped my lips, “What do we do?”

Chris somberly opened his door and backtracked to the scene of the collision. I tried to follow, but my door was crumpled shut from the impact.

After 10 tense minutes, Chris returned.

“I don’t think it was killed.”

”Did you see it?” I pictured a mangled Bambi drenched in ketchup.

“Part of its pelt is stuck in the crack by the hood. It probably broke a leg, but it got away.”

After a quick check to make sure the car was drivable, we turned back onto the highway. When we pulled into the closest town – about 30 minutes away – we called the state patrol to alert them about the injured animal and approximate location of the crash.

Then we called my parents.

“What are you supposed to do when that happens? We didn’t want it to suffer.”

My dad offered comfort, reassuring us that we did the right thing.

Then my mom piped up, “You should have hit it over the head with a tire iron.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Or a rock. That would work, too.”

“Mom, can you honestly say that you would hit a deer over the head with a blunt object, even if it was suffering? Dad, is she serious?”

“I wouldn’t do it, but I’m just saying. A tire iron would get the job done.”

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jen said...

i have to agree with your mom. it's the most humane thing to do when an animal is suffering. i had to kill a squirrel with a rock to the head last summer when it got caught in a rat trap. hard to do, but necessary.

might be a *tad* harder with a beautiful deer though. i've never hit anything with my car, i bet that was frightening.

Holly said...

Love the hair Becky!

Nickie Fowles said...

You know Becky, are you sure you are supposed to type up everything I say? I think not! You are always asking my opinion, and then you say: "I can't believe you told me that Mom!" Well, if you don't want to know something, don't ask! Thanks Jen for your agreeing to my comments. It is Humane! I happen to remember a time when Becky was standing in a certain aisle in Walmart and calling me on her cell phone to ask my opinion about a certain product, and after I gave her my advice, she said she couldn't believe that we were talking about something so "personal" and I hung up the phone thinking: But you called me! Go figure. Love, mom