As I step to the sink to begin washing the potatoes, I look out the window and see a deer munching on some leaves.
|6 point buck having breakfast|
In amazement, I walk to the dining room, raising the shades to get a better look. I startle him.
|Isn't he beautiful?|
There aren't many options when an injured deer is in your yard on Thanksgiving. Everything is closed. We don't want to call the police to take care of it. He can stay, at least for today. We'd rather not start the holiday with a bang.
|He found a safe place.|
I fear his leg is broken, but maybe it's just sprained. He seems to be ok other than that. He walks across the yard, finding a sheltered place to rest. We open the gate, giving him a way to leave when he's ready.
When we come home that night, he has moved to a new spot in the yard. He seems to like it here.
He's gone now. He was back in his favored place this morning. I tried to put some water out for him, thinking he might need some. I stayed well away, but still spooked him. He jumped the fence, still limping, and left.
I hope he's ok. I hope he heals and lives a long life. At least we gave him a chance. And if he doesn't make it, he'll go back to nature, into the natural cycle of things.
But this Thanksgiving, we had a visitor.
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