The Pennsylvania white-tailed deer and I do not have a peaceful co-existence. I remember driving through Valley Forge late one night and seeing hundreds of deer standing in the fields on both sides of the road. They grazed and looked up at the line of cars on the road but had the sense to stay in the fields.

Our local deer population appears to use poor judgment and loves to scamper along the highways. One morning, on my way to work, a doe leaped from the river side of the road high into the air and over two lanes of traffic. It was a beautiful sight. It scared the life of me. 

On a fall afternoon several years ago, I followed a doe and her fawn as they strolled slowly down a wooded back road for two miles. I was in a hurry. Momma Deer was not.

Sometimes, our PA state mascots only send my heart racing momentarily. Sometimes, they create bigger problems.

Christmas Interrupted…

My battle with the Pennsylvania white-tailed deer started almost sixty years ago. I didn’t see the first one coming. I only remember standing in a dark field at the bottom of a bank, wondering if we were still alive. 

Our family of four was riding around Juniata County a few days before the holidays, probably in 1964. We were Christmas caroling. Other families from our church had gone ahead, but we, for some reason, were several miles behind the caravan of cars. My brother and I loved traveling the back road from East Salem to Seven Stars because of a series of hills and dips that, when approached correctly, sent the car momentarily airborne. They were rollercoaster, belly flop hills. 

On this night, I was riding in the front seat on my mother’s lap. The dark green 1960 Ford Falcon didn’t come equipped with seat belts. We probably wouldn’t have used them anyway. My brother Ken was standing in the back, holding on to the front headrest, the best way to see where we were going. 

Just past the little white church outside East Salem, a deer ran onto the road, and Dad hit it with the left front fender. Dad didn’t know the road was icy. The car spun around and rolled down the bank. The passenger door flew open on the third roll, and Mom and I fell out. Dad held on as long as he could before falling out of the car. Ken was lodged under the high front seat when the car landed at the bottom of the steep hill. If the car had rolled again, it would likely have rolled over some of us. 

Instead, we stood up and walked around surveying the damage. Some of us had dirt in our mouths or bruises but no broken bones or serious injuries. Our Christmas caroling was done for the night. 

As we recalled this story about ten years ago, my brother told us he saw Jesus standing in the fields. I believe He must have been there. We climbed the bank and waited for our fellow carolers to take us home.

A little help from my friend

The next deer to ruin my evening came thirty-some years later. I should bless that one, for it changed the course of my path and my heart. And for that, I am grateful. 

I was in and out of a relationship or friendship with a wild man, rough-looking but tender-hearted. On that October evening, we were, at my request, in the friend stage. I’d been through one marriage and wasn’t eager for another. 

I’d had an evening of college courses to get my teaching degree. Before driving home, I was scouting the town of Dillsburg to find my sister’s new house. I stopped at the international gifts store and purchased an African rainstick for my future classroom. Finally, late at night, I was making the hour drive home. 

I saw the deer near Millerstown. I slowed down and tried to move into the other lane. The skittish thing ran into me anyway! It totaled my car, which I couldn’t afford to replace with three part-time jobs and college loans. The car was barely driveable, but I arrived home shaking like a leaf. I called my friend, and he came to my house. I fell into his arms and cried. In time, I stopped crying, but I stayed in his arms. 

The last deer caused a four-car pileup, an emergency room visit, and nearly cost me a honeymoon. But that’s a tale for another time. 

I know a lady who prays for the deer’s safety at the opening of hunting season. They probably need her prayers with all the Pennsylvania roadways to tempt them into oblivion. So when I hear the sound of gunfire after Thanksgiving, I pray for safety, but only for the hunters. 

Read more…

To read more stories about the past: https://debrichmond.com/the-old-car/

To learn more about the Pennsylvania white-tailed deer: https://www.pgc.pa.gov/Education/WildlifeNotesIndex/Pages/White-tailedDeer.aspx