animals · Grief · Love · Nature · Writing

Frailty

Amy

April 2, 2011

A young deer collided with my mom’s car this morning. We were driving back from the grocery store, trunk full of food, discussing something mundane about the week; something I can’t recall now. We saw one deer dart across the left lane of traffic and we gasped. My mom applied her brakes. We momentarily believed we had escaped what could have been a horrific situation, and then, just as suddenly, two more young deer darted from the brush.

My mom did what she could to slow down, but there was no way to avoid what was to come. The third deer ran head first into the driver’s side of the car. A loud thunk was felt and we pulled over. Already I was sobbing. I did not look back. I COULD NOT look back. My mom was shaking and sobbing. People began to pull over, maybe wondering if they could help us, maybe wondering if we were ok. Some did come up to the car and talk to us, making sure we were all right.

Physically, we were fine. The car was not damaged. Emotionally we were not fine. I am still not fine. That young deer didn’t die right away, it lingered for maybe 10 minutes before dying. Someone – I don’t know who – came and took the deer away. I don’t know if it was the County or a person who was planning on utilizing the meat. I don’t care. A deer died a traumatic death in the middle of the road because of a man-made vehicle that could not stop in time. The people inside that car do not agree with killing of animals for sport, and one of them (me) is adamant against such activities. So, to accidentally kill a deer – or any animal – is, for me, excruciating.

To unintentionally kill a beautiful animal that has every right to live is a horrible, horrible feeling. I took my mother’s hand and held it. And we cried. I cried not only for that young deer in the road, but for all the other deer who meet similar fates, and for others who are cruelly killed for sport.

Finally, the police arrived and said they do not file police reports for deer collisions, and since there was no damage to the car, my mom would not have to fix anything, so need to contact the insurance company.

Deer hair lingers on the driver’s side window, though, and I can’t bear to go over to that side to see the small dent I have been told is there now.

So that’s it. Nothing can be done. We just go on about our day? What about the two other deer? Where did they go? Do they wonder what happened to the young doe?

Are they waiting for her on the other side of the road, off in the distance?

Sorry, I just can’t finish this. I can’t stop crying.

Please, whatever you do today, hug your dogs, your cats, your ferrets, whatever pet you know and love. And hug your people, too. We are all fragile in this life.

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Published by Amy

I love words. And animals. Photography and fedoras. Welcome. And stay awhile.

32 thoughts on “Frailty”

  3. I lived in a rural area for about 3 years. It wasn’t unusual for deer to dart across the roads.

    Fortunately I never had an accident with one. They’re such docile creatures. I can only imagine what that must feel like.

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    1. It was awful. The deer hit the frame of the car between the front door and the passenger door. If she’d hit a few inches either way my mom and I would have been dead. We were lucky that day, but the deer was not. It was absolutely horrific.

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    1. Thanks. It was very difficult. I still cannot look at any dead animal on the road. I saw my dog get hit by a car and killed about 10 feet from me when I was little. As a result, I have a very intense reaction to seeing any animal hurt or worse.

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