Well, I'm Back In MPLS For The Weekend. Just To Hang Out. I Miss This Town Every Single Day. I Wish I

Well, I'm back in MPLS for the weekend. Just to hang out. I miss this town every single day. I wish I could say I may move back some day, but the reality is, that can never happen.

While sitting in my sunroom admiring the bucolic view of the barn across the field from me yesterday, this happened. Not even kidding. Yikes. I was told there were no injuries, thankfully.

a crunchin' and a munchin'

a goodly time shall be had by all

Monday night as I was getting ready for bed, I saw a car on the road in front of my house slam on the brakes, and then I heard the dreaded "Bang/Thud". It was pitch dark outside, but I knew what had happened. I went outside with a flashlight, and sure enough, in the tall grass by my mailbox, a deer was struggling to stand up. It was the only time in my life I found myself wishing I had a gun. But I don't, so I had to walk away. I live in the middle of nowhere, and I don't really socialize, so I had nobody to help me put the poor thing out of its suffering. It was dead the next morning, but who knows how long it suffered out there before succumbing to its injuries. I'm not happy about that.

Then the story gets better. The next day, Tuesday, as I am standing out on my back deck, I hear what sounded like a lamb crying. Sure enough, out of the tall grass comes this little thing, looking for its mom. It ran up to me and started nuzzling my legs. I had no formula for it, let alone any idea of how to care for a fawn. But I ran down to the local Tractor Supply store and got some goat formula and a big bottle regardless. But by the time I got back he was gone. I thought that was the end of that until the next morning, Wednesday, when he showed up at my door again, crying. This was no wayward fawn, this was the orphan of the deer that died Monday night. I got in contact with a veterinarian about an hour from me who owns 40 acres (that's a LOT of land) and has a lot of rescue animals. He also takes in orphaned fawns each spring, gets them healthy, and then when they are ready to go out on their own, he lets them live on his land. He confirmed my hunch that this was an orphan, and told me that he would take him in. So, I packed up this little dude and drove him to his new home. Happy ending to a sad story.

Got a lot of ticks on me in the process, too. Ugh.

Beastie Boys, Long Beach, NY, 1986

📷 © Josh Cheuse