Somehow, I ended up with a baby deer on my lap tonight, trying to figure out in the 3/4 mile trip from my uncle’s office to my yard how the hell I would explain to my husband the series of events that caused “taking a baby bottle” over to help with the baby deer to turn into bringing the deer home wrapped in a jacket on my lap.
Four hours later and the deer is safely in the passenger seat of the local for-profit vermin remover, except he’s going off the books and risking his job to drive the baby deer out to the country to the wildlife rehabber.
I used to be the person you brought wildlife to-squirrels, birds, racoons, kittens. I’d take them all, stay up all night with syringes and pedialite. I’d cry when they died, and celebrate every graduation day into the woods. The baby deer tonight (Avery named it Rainbow, and told me to take it away since I wouldn’t let her pet it) hammered it home for me. I’m through rescuing. I’ll spend the day on the phone, I’ll pay gas for the guy to drive 40 miles to get the baby, I’ll advise and teach people to feed and donate boxes or baskets or crates. But I can’t be the mama anymore. Oh, I had a moment of weakness when the little thing walked up to me and buried her head in my shirt.
But then I thought about bed, and sleep, and deer ticks, and babies.
The first number we called wanted 99.00 to remove the animal and take it to rehab. I said no thanks, and called around and around and around, and I was on the phone with my (other) uncle when the for-profit guy called back.
“I just kept thinking about you”, he said. “I knew all the way up here you wouldn’t find anyone to come. So I called the rehabber and asked her to cover my gas. I’ll get fired if the company finds out so when they call to check in tomorrow don’t tell them I was here”
I slipped him a 20 and offered to make him coffee, which he declined and promised to call us with an update in the morning.
“I used to be so gung ho for this kind of service”, I said. “I don’t know what happened to me”
“Me too!” he said. “I think it’s a combination of getting old and seeing too many of them die. I just get too sad anymore. And now my kids get sad too.”
He says he’s looking for a way out of the job, but I saw that gleam in his eye. He spent two hours after we called him, turning it over in his mind. In the end he couldn’t leave it up to chance. He knew he was our best shot and he showed up to do the job, driving 45 minutes to get here and heading back his direction and past his house at least 90 miles. I almost feel like I should stay up and keep him company on the phone but he’s probably got his own wife for that job.
Safe travels, little orphan deer and saintly rescue man.
side note, and why I will always love my friend BJ:
“BJ, I have a deer in my lap help me find someone to call”
“how did you get a deer in your lap”
my uncle needed a bottle and I took it over there, and I got railroaded, and I had to come home with the deer
“wait. your uncle had the deer. How did YOU end up with the deer at your house?” Why did YOU bring the deer to your house?”
BJ, thank you for keeping me honest.