The Dead Deer Crossing

OPEN SEASON | by TF&G Humor Editor REAVIS Z. WORTHAM

LISTEN: (7 minutes, 15 seconds)

 

THE HUNTING CLUB MEMBERSHIP was gathered around the large round corner table in Doreen’s 24 HR Eat Gas Now Café when a gaggle of women pushed through the door. We’d been talking about a big doe in the median that was hit the night before.

Woodrow ran his forefinger through his coffee mug’s handle. “It’s a surprise to see a doe hit this time of the year.”

“I wish it had been a rabbit.” I sighed and watched the women stop to survey the cafe. “Rabbits are like roaches around here these days.”

The ladies ignored us and took a table in the center of the café, putting them in close proximity to our big booth. Had it been a group of men, they’d have moved to the opposite end of the large eating area, as far as possible from where we sat, similar to our predisposition to separate ourselves in public restrooms.

One woman that looked like Maude on the Golden Girls spoke with a voice heard by dogs a mile away. “I texted out a warning on the way over here to our neighborhood watch and said I just saw a dead deer in the street between El Dorado and Panther Creek.”

Woodrow grinned. “Now I know where to hunt this season. That has to be the same one we were talking about, but it’s in the median, so there’s no danger to anyone unless folks are slowing down to look, or texting while they drive!” His voice rose in emphasis, but the newcomers appeared not to hear.

“That’s so sad.” It was a skinny gal wearing lots of makeup, and I assumed she was talking about the doe, and not Woodrow’s comment.

Jerry Wayne spoke in his usual loud voice, since he can’t hear it thunder these days and refuses to wear his hearing aids.  Maude was so loud he couldn’t help but hear. “It’s the nature of things. I was raised on venison in Mississippi.”

As a group, the women frowned and leaned in. Maude waved to get Doreen’s attention. “Poor animals. No wilderness to live in anymore. It’s because of all this construction around here. These animals are going to come out more and more. They should take them to a habitat somewhere when they build these housing additions, because it is very dangerous and sad to see them die this way.”

Her astonishing comment clammed all of us up, and we listened as they took turns spilling thoughts. Constable Rick’s mouth opened and closed, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t get enough air. He was either laughing, or in shock.

Skinny Makeup Gal nodded as if to authorize her next statement. “If the people who hit it had tagged that poor little thing, they could have called the game warden. They will give it to you.”

“You have to bleed it out immediately for it to taste good. That one’s been dead too long now. Sad.” Maude paused. Apparently, the Secret Word of the Day was “sad.”

She sighed and continued. “At least that’s what my next-door neighbor said. He’s a hunter.”

A woman with sprayed helmet hair dabbed at her eyes as if overcome by emotion. “I can’t stand deer hunters and I’ve been living here 21 years when it was wilderness and I’ve never seen anything but bobcats, coyotes, and greyhawks.”

Willie turned to me. “Wilderness? Wasn’t this farmland?”

I shrugged. “Depends on your definition.”

“You know,” Maude took a cup of coffee from Doreen and smiled her thanks. “We need one of those Deer Crossing signs so the poor animals will know where to safely cross.”

Doreen glared in our direction, daring us to say anything. I looked around the table and saw Jerry Wayne, Willie, Woodrow, and Constable Rick all bite their lips at the same time.

 Helmet Hair pursed her lips. “I didn’t know wildlife was prevalent in this area of Texas when we moved here.”

Willie dissolved into hysterical giggles and slapped the table, slipping down in his seat. I hoped his red face wouldn’t explode.

A dishwater blonde shook her head at the enormity of it all. “I was surprised to see a deer in the residential neighborhood by The Ponds. But you know, to a deer, the neighborhood ponds connected to the wooded lakeshore are their native habitat and it’s all encroached by human development. It’s arguable whether that back drop of wilderness area is manicured for human development or if it belongs to wildlife.”

Jerry Wayne raised a finger to make some point, but I shook my head. I wanted to hear more.

The blonde sighed. “Of course, that poor deer was lost because how would it expect wooded lakeshore pond trails to dead-end in concrete roads and blocks of framed structures that we call houses.”

She almost spat the word, and the boys at my table nodded in encouragement, hoping they’d notice and keep talking.

“It’s a puzzle for the deer to navigate their way back to their native wooded areas without running into human-erected structures.” The blonde was apparently speaking to her phone she held in one hand, or maybe she was reading a statement she’d prepared for a social media platform.

“They’re stuck in these urban areas not because they want to live here, but are lost in the maze, like the poor rabbits and squirrels. Of course, they don’t have GPS to guide them back to the wilderness areas. They’re desperately trying to find a way out and have to run in the maze, thinking crossing the street would get them back to the wild.”

She paused again. “You know, I have an idea. I’ll make a post and suggest the city create a deer farm for them, so they don’t run in the street, and maybe add deer speed limits like school zones. People need to slow down. It’s hard to hit wildlife if you drive the speed limit and then you’ll have time to stop even when a deer dashes out.”

Woodrow couldn’t help himself. “I wonder if that includes squirrels. They have the most malfunctioning sense of self-preservation in the world. They’ll run across a street where it’s safe and then dart back across three lanes of traffic.”

The guys were wheezing in delight, slapping the table and giggling like schoolgirls.

Doreen came over. “Don’t! Y’all shouldn’t be eavesdropping anyway!”

“But,” Woodrow laid his head on the table. “Put the deer in farms!!!???”

Doreen’s demeanor cracked and she leaned in to whisper in a giggle. “Well, they’re move-ins, bless their hearts.”

Helmet Hair dabbed at her eyes. “And what’s worse, I saw a poor calf that had escaped from a pasture this morning. The poor sweet baby was standing on the side of the road when I was coming into town, and its mother wasn’t in sight. What’s worse, it didn’t even have a collar on. These country people.”

Maude took a deep breath. “Well, at least we’re aware of the deer now. That makes me feel better, but you’re right. They need to move the deer crossing somewhere with less traffic.”

And we all fell out.

 

Email Reavis Wortham at ContactUs@fishgame.com

 

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