|
I had a most disturbing thing happen today. Already in the purple funk of depression (need to order some light therapy As we sat in the dining room doing our lessons this afternoon, we heard a couple of dogs barking frantically. At first, I ignored them, but eventually it occurred to me that I didn't recognize the dogs' barking (I know all my neighbor dogs) and thought I should go see if these could have been the dogs that Nelson was last seen with. OS (Oldest Son) and I headed down the driveway, leaving MS practicing his handwriting and Baby napping in his playpen. Not 100 feet away, there was a large doe in the middle of the gravel road with a beagle and a corgi nipping at its heels, holding it hostage in terror. I really don't recall how I travelled the 100 feet to get to the deer, but I do know that OS handed me two of what he said was a javelin (big long sticks he likes to play with). I remember yelling for OS to get behind me for fear of the deer attacking him, and then I remember the deer making a run for it and leaping into a deep ravine. The dogs didn't miss a beat before they were on her, ripping at her groin and neck and legs. You would have thought they were pitt bulls, instead of relatively small dogs. Again, I was transported into the ravine somehow, brandishing my javelins and screaming like a banshee, believing that this lovely deer would be killed horribly before my eyes. If I could have laid hands upon those dogs, I would have gleefully strangled the life from them in that moment and in the maybe 45 minutes that followed. I shouted for OS to run get the neighbor, a vet. I think it took him an hour to get there. Meanwhile, I held the dogs literally at bay for the moments when the deer stood still, quivering, dripping with blood and with her long graceful back leg now dangling pitifully, and I screamed bloody murder when she moved and they attacked again, over and over and over. The beagle was particularly vicious and persistent. I lost count of the attacks, stuck in this horrible nightmare. When I could I screamed for help, I screamed my neighbor's name, I screamed at those dogs. I just stood over the deer or beside her and we stared eye to eye, me brandishing my pathetic weapon toward the dogs and apologizing to her over and over for what had happened to her, until she'd move again and the whole fight would begin anew. This macabre oddyssey finally ended in the pasture at the bottom of the hill, when my neighbor-the-vet arrived and caught the dogs. They were oddly docile - even friendly - rolling over and showing her their tummies when she got near. They were someone's pets once again and the wild, vicious mini-pack of predators disappeared in wagging tails. The deer's life was for all intents and purposes over, her fate sealed when her leg snapped. I had saved her from a violent death, but not from death itself. Defeated, I borrowed the neighbor's car and drove home, promising my neighbor to call Tennessee Wildlife Resources to come and "take care of" the deer. She promised to lock up the dogs and try to find their owners and, failing that, do what it took to get them into an animal shelter. When I walked in the door, poor MS was sitting in the middle of the den carpet with Baby and they were both crying pitifully. He said "I wanted you so badly Mommy." He said he was afraid I had been killed. If he had stuck his head out the door, he would have heard my desperate screeching, so I have no doubt that that's what he really thought. How precious of him to have gotten his baby brother out of his playpen to try to soothe him, with these horrible thoughts running through his mind. After distributing hugs and kisses wherever needed, and the adrenaline wore off, and after I had a TRWA official dispatched to our neck of the woods, I called around to see if the Deer Farm or the Appalachian Bear Center (ABC) would consider attempting to rehabilitate my poor deer. The president of ABC responded immediately, had someone research it and then call me back -- all within 15 minutes. The lady told me that unfortunately, because the break was high on the leg and it was an adult doe, there was no chance the deer would recover. Apparently, the animals just give up. She told me that the only humane thing would be to destroy it by gun so that the meat could be dressed out and used by someone in need, so its life would not be wasted. I thought that was a particularly nice spin on it. She also assured me that the deer knew I had done a great favor for it. I feel very, very sad, and my usual confidence that I can accomplish most anything if I just try hard enough has taken a real beating. It is very seldom that the price of failure is so violent and so final. It is made all the more bitter by the beauty of the life lost. |
), this has further thrown me for a loop. Comments
|
|
|
|
|
Posted by
|
|
|
|
|
Posted by
|
|
|
|
|
Posted by