 I don’t consider myself a hero.
I’m just a guy. A guy who occasionally does incredibly heroic things.
For it is because of my rampant heroism that two baby deer are safe
and well with their mother today. I rescued them single-handedly and
purely by instinct with absolutely no regard for my own safety.
Well, almost no regard for my safety.
My wife Becca and I were walking our dog yesterday when I happened
to look at a stonewall enclosure near our home. It’s a square
surrounded by a wall that is about five feet high and runs 40 feet by
40 feet.
I noticed an adult female deer that was clearly agitated as she
repeatedly jumped in and out of the enclosure. When I looked closer, I
noticed her two fawns who could not have been more than a week old.
They were both about the size of a housecat and were doing that
wobbly-legged, trying to learn how to walk thing. They clearly had no
chance of jumping over a five-foot rock wall.
I walked right up to the wall to gain a better perspective. The fawns, who had not yet been taught to fear Man, wobbled over to where I was standing. This clearly made the mother even more agitated so I backed off and we went back home to give nature a chance to run its course.
I’ve never been very good with nature.
I don’t like camping or the outdoors. If I’m in a situation where I can’t turn on CNN I get nervous and fidgety. Also I’ve had bad experiences with animals that have left me with a fear and mistrust of all undomesticated life. In fact, although I don’t talk about it a lot, I am the survivor of a bear attack.
It’s true. Even though no one ever believes me, it really happened.
I was about 13 and on a summer trip to Europe with my father and sister. We were with a tour group in Paris and we had split off to go look at some landmark or another. We were running because we were supposed to meet back up with the group at a previously agreed upon time and place.
Suddenly we saw an old man with a bear on a leash. He beckoned us over and invited us to take our picture with the bear. I was wary but the old man pointed out that the bear had no claws. Or teeth. And was incredibly old.
I shrugged and stood next to the animal as it sat up on its haunches and did cute things with its front paws. A video camera was rolling as the bear seemed to notice me for the first time. With incredible suddenness, the bear grabbed hold of my waist in what can only be described as…well, a bear hug.
The bear went straight back onto the ground pulling me with him with amazing strength. I laid helplessly on the ground as the bear sat on me and began chewing on my ankle. Again, it didn’t have any teeth so it felt like two warm, wet pieces of meat being rubbed on my leg.
The old man, my father and sister watched and laughed until they couldn’t breathe. When we finally met up with the tour group they asked why we were so late. We told them that is was due to a bear attack, but they didn’t believe us. For the rest of the tour I was known as the Boy Who Cried Bear.
I apologize for the digression in the narrative but I wanted to provide some perspective as to why I am convinced that literally all forms of wildlife wish to do me bodily harm.
As we returned home from walking the dog, I began to brood about the baby deer’s predicament. I decided that the possibility of returning to the rock wall the next day to discover that they had expired from hunger and thirst was more than I could stand so I resolved to rescue them.
I had Becca follow me so that she could be a witness to my incredibly brave act. Or to call 911 when the mama deer inevitably trampled me until she was sure I was dead.
As Becca stood back behind me with a camera in one hand and a cell phone with 911 already punched in and her finger on the “send” button, I slowly climbed over the wall.
The fawns were clearly exhausted and were huddled together asleep at the wall opposite from me. I started moving toward them very slowly. The mother was on the other side of the wall from the fawns and was eyeing me nervously. As I got closer, she began to stomp her feet and snort angrily.
I paused to reflect. I realized that I really didn’t know a whole lot about deer. How bad could she hurt me? I knew they had hooves that they used to protect themselves when threatened, but what else could they do? I wondered if they were poisonous. Or if they could shoot things at you from their noses.
I also wondered how the law regarded what I was about to attempt. I mean, these deer were minors, right? Was I going to be arrested for touching them. I wondered if the minute I reached down to pick one of them up if Chris Hansen from Dateline would suddenly appear with a clipboard and a camera crew and tell me to have a seat over there.
The biggest danger was the mother charging over the wall and coming at me with hooves of fury. I wondered what I would do then. I decided I would run the other way toward Becca, push her down and yell, “Take the woman!” as I jumped in my car and drove to the next county.
I decided the welfare of the baby deer was more important than the possible risks to my person. As I got closer to the fawns, the mother started to go crazy. She was running back and forth and stamping her hooves angrily.
I approached very slowly with my hands in the air and in a calm voice I explained to the deer that everything was going to be okay and my intentions were benevolent.
I then realized that I was not talking to a gunman with a hostage, but rather a fucking deer. Explaining my intentions was probably not going to help the situation.
 Becca was watching from a few yards away and she called out that this was probably not a good idea. It’s been my experience with her that whenever I’m about to do something that is dangerous and unwise, and she says that it might not be a good idea to do it, I scoff and proceed to do whatever the dangerous thing is which inevitably results in grievous bodily harm to me.
The mother watched nervously but didn’t move as I reached down and picked up the two fawns. They offered no resistance as I carried them over the wall and placed them in a shady patch of clover. I backed away and the mother nuzzled the fawns and they followed her into the woods.
Then I ran like hell.
When we got back home Becca told me that I was her hero.
I laughed and told her that I was not a hero, just a guy who instantly places himself in the path of danger with nary a thought for his own safety to help the innocent.
A guy who should be respected and regarded with awe for his display of courage and selflessness, a guy that other men wish they could be and that women wish they could be with.
But definitely not a hero.
|
|
Users' Comments  |
|
Average user rating
 (0 vote)
|
|
|
Quirkee Voices 
