Chain of events

As I mentioned in my last post, it's dry and Africa-hot here. The drought has taken a toll on wildlife and they are coming into the rural towns to raid yards for any edible cultivars. Despite wire cages around the bases of trees and fruit-producing plants, I have a browse line in my yard. That and the ample scattering of deer pellets tells the story. The stealthy devils only come in at night.

Sunday night our amazing chicken-dog started acting odd. After a few nervous, whiny spins near the front door, she grabbed her stuffed frog and scratched the door to go out. Something was up! I peeked out and there was a good-sized deer peering over the 4' fence trying to decide if there was enough re-growth after his last meal in our yard to make a leap worth while. Of course, 4' is nothing to a deer, except it keeps the javalina out so there is more for the deer to munch.

Thinking that there was a meaningful enough barrier to keep the dog from making contact with the deer, I opened the door. Ms. Ferocious darted out, frog in mouth and gave the deer the frog-dog muffled anti-deer mutter-bark. Despite the comedic aspect, it was successful -- at least for a while. The deer were probably back before midnight after our Wiley Coyote sacked out.

The sad part is that our small town straddles a state highway. The speed limit in town is reduced to 35 miles per hour, which is somewhat helpful. We still get a few too many of the thru-traffic drivers who decide the signs are for suckers and keep their lead feet on the accelerator. Two of them, in separate incidents, met hungry deer the hard way this weekend. The deer lost.

Poor deer. Stupid drivers. We can take some solace that the drivers probably experienced maximum inconvenience for their folly. See, we have no cell phone reception. Nearest hill with reception is a couple miles out of town. We also have no pay phones and no mechanic or road service. You hit a deer, and unless you are driving a stout vehicle, you're probably stuck until the tow truck comes from the big town, about 45 miles away. That's provided you can break the code and contact them. Locals aren't too fond of being awakened at midnight by a speeding outlander who hit our deer.

Remember us if you are one of those holiday weekenders who ignore the signs and blast through small towns on lonely state highways en route to your sanctuary du jour. We live here for a reason, and it's mostly to minimize our contact with idiots like you.