Wednesday, June 29, 2011, as I sat under the gazebo watching my son practice his routine on the trampoline, a young buck, probably not more than a year old, came wandering down the driveway nibbling at the tall grass as he came closer. He stopped for a few minutes to observe the activity as if amazed by the sight before him.
This young buck is standing just 10 feet from where he will die, 2 days later.
He was an enchanting creature with velvety antlers that seemed to enjoy the sound of my voice, as I spoke to him in soothing tones. This was not his first visit, his mother brought him by when he was just a wee fawn. I can still remember their last visit together. It was a touching moment and I didn’t understand what was happening at the time.
One afternoon, around 4 p.m., I sat alone on the deck, as if entranced, while four older fawns haltingly approached our yard. They were nosing around in the grass and eating bird seed, of all things. They played around a little and moved along. As the fawns were leaving, 4 mothers followed not far behind, they were chatting each other up and sparring a little, all while keeping a watchful eye on the fawns.
That was the last time they visited as a large group. It was as if the mothers were showing them the rounds, so they could care for themselves once they were out on their own. Sure enough, a few days later, a couple of fawns wandered through the yard and my lovely young buck would make the rounds every 2 or 3 days.
Yesterday, the graceful buck was struck broadside by a passing motorist on the road, fracturing his left front shoulder and rear leg. My son and I were out for a walk, when he noticed the deer down a steep incline, on the side of the mountain overlooking our house. Under a great deal of brush – he wasn’t moving.
He went to get his father (Shawn) and I walked to the fireman’s house next door. I figured if anyone knew what to do, he would. He came down later to see what was wrong, but wasn’t able to help and left.
Shawn found the deer, amazingly enough, behind our house. It was obvious his leg and shoulder were broken, he was bleeding from his mouth and in undeniable distress. Shawn described him as though he were a trout flopping around the boat, gasping for air. Another neighbor, a former police officer from San Leandro, advised us to call animal control; so we did.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, as the case may be, I had the number handy. My cat disappeared only Wednesday evening and I had called to report her absence the day before. It was after hours at animal control. The recorded message told us to call the Sheriff’s dispatch, which I did.
Dispatch informed us their officers were busy (4th of July weekend traffic stops), but she would send someone out as soon as possible. Two hours and 30 minutes later I called back and was apprised that an officer was in route and should arrive momentarily. Over 3 hours had passed from the time we discovered the deer until the Sheriff actually put him down.
While I waited, I tried to comfort the suffering buck. I spoke to him as I always have, trying to help calm him. I sang to him, prayed for him and cried for him while we waited.
I mentioned yesterday, in Ohio Modern Day Heroes that I used to have a farm, we would kill and butcher most of the animals ourselves. Our animals led a happy life, with good healthy food, music, freedom to wander, kids to play with (if they wanted to) and when it was time to put them down, we did everything in our power to do the deed as quickly and painlessly as possible. We loved our animals. They brought us great joy and happiness: they were giving their lives for us and we respected them for that. That is the natural way of life. But it broke my heart to stand and watch this magnificent creature die a slow and agonizing death, while I could do little more than stand helplessly by and watch.
The Sheriff informed us of what he was going to do – he had to put the deer out of its misery, which all agreed was for the best, and he informed us that it was a holiday weekend; he could shoot the deer but he was going to leave it IN OUR YARD. (If you have never smelled a rotting carcass, consider yourself blessed beyond measure.) We were fine with that. I’ve always believed in using every part of an animal and not to waste anything. My son even taught himself how to tan hides, a long and complicated process.
We were also informed by the Sheriff that he couldn’t give us permission to keep it. I’m not exactly sure what he thought we were going to do with it. I knew one thing for sure, he did not give his life for nothing. We covered him in a sheet, moved him to another location and started watching video’s on how to dress out a deer. Neither of us had ever cleaned a deer but we didn’t have much choice did we? After all, it was 9:00 p.m., the deer had been shot, IN OUR YARD and left to decay.
My patient husband spent the next five hours cleaning the buck and preparing it for processing. We called Dee’s Meats in Galt, after hearing our story, the woman from Dee’s told us to bring it in, they were open until noon. Perfect! We cleaned up and finally made it to bed around 2:00 a.m.; we were all back up at 8:30 a.m., with just enough time to load up the SUV and make the long drive to Galt. We arrived just in time — we thought — as we pulled into the parking lot at 11:50 a.m., only to be told they could be closed down for processing our deer because we needed a tag from the California Department of Fish and Game (DFG).
I was really getting worried now, the temperature in Galt was a sticky 102 °F, or more. Working as quickly as possible Shawn and I both began dialing our cell phones, trying to talk to someone — anyone — at the Department of Fish and Game, to no avail. It was Saturday afternoon on a busy holiday weekend. There were police everywhere, but we couldn’t reach one single human being at the DFG. How could that be? Aren’t they supposed to be on duty, especially when people head to the mountains, streams, lakes and rivers in droves?
Finally, we were given directions to the house of a DFG employee, who lived nearby. As luck (or not) would have it, he was home. The first thing he did was inform Shawn that he could charge him with taking a deer illegally, and that transporting it was yet another broken law. What? You’ve got to be kidding me! What kind of place is this? Who could be so cruel as to threaten to charge a man who had gone to such efforts; missing out on hours of work and sleep, to ensure that this deer was honored in his death.
I don’t blame this young DFG employee. He was just doing his job, right? He was nice enough but just as quickly informed my husband that he couldn’t let us keep the deer. He continued that if a motorist hits a deer, he’s not allowed to keep it. They take that deer and donate it to the zoo or an animal refuge, like PAWS. Now, don’t misunderstand me, I love animals but this was our deer. He came here to our house to die or for comfort. He was shot here (by the Sheriff) and left IN OUR YARD. We didn’t keep the antlers because I couldn’t stand to look at them, knowing where they came from and their owner was dead but the meat would have provided for our family many nourishing meals. Aren’t people supposed to eat, too?
Why was no one available to help when this animal was suffering? We would have put the deer down ourselves, to keep him from suffering but we knew we would go to jail or at the very least be fined. We tried to do the right thing, but someone wasn’t on the job. This should not have happened and I don’t ever want to experience anything of this nature again. It’s far too painful and completely unnecessary. I don’t want to live where people pay lip service about caring for animals and yet, a living breathing animal is allowed to suffer for hours and die a painful death.
These asinine laws must change. I can’t even claim that California cares more about its animals than it does people. It’s apparent that only caged animals deserve dignity, respect and care. I hate seeing animals in cages, it’s just plain cruel and any law that allows any animal to lie in pain is wrong. Please write your legislators and share my story if you care about the deer, mountain lions, bears, cougars, etc…
Gee, I’m happy that the zoo animals will eat tonight but what about my family? Who will feed us? My husband works all night every Friday night, he took five hours out of his schedule and instead of sleeping, he cleaned a deer that was LEFT IN OUR YARD. We spent $60 in gas to drive to Galt to have the deer processed. That, California, is food that came out of my son’s mouth. Do we have to leave California to be treated fairly?
Update: It’s come to our attention that there’s a local organization, Rose Wolf Wildlife, that may have been able to assist us immediately with helping out this poor young buck. The next time this happens (and we’re sure it will), we’ll definitely give them a call.
