Peter G (sinetimore) wrote,
Peter G

Deer John

I have a tendency to bury the lead, so let me start off by saying, I'm fine, no injuries, my car is fine, no damage, I'm just pissed.

(looking at a deer head on the wall)
  "That's quite a trophy."
"Yeah, my dad killed that for me when I was a little girl."
"Was he a hunter?"
"No, a bad driver."
--Sledge Hammer!

You know, this is going probably going to be my most controversial blog post ever.  You're probably thinking, What can possibly be more controversial than writing about politics, religion, and Obamacare?


I fucking hate deer.

Deer have the best PR agents in the world.  Every time you see them in movies or on TV, they are standing in the meadow, or eating things from people's hands, or getting the epic treatment that Bambi provided.  "Doe eyed" is an expression of innocence.  People see deer as sweet and innocent things, like unicorns but they actually exist.

But when you live in a rural area like I do, deer are a nuisance.  Other animals have adapted to mankind, like foxes (see next paragraph for a hilarious example), but deer?  They wander around like they are stoned, barely aware of their surroundings, even as a car is closing in on them with high beams on and horn blaring, then they stop and just look at you like they are trying to see through the haze.  I nearly got broadsided by a deer WHILE I WAS ON MY GODDAMN BICYCLE!!!  And if you hack one off, they are fierce and dangerous attackers.  There is nothing gentle and harmonious about them.  I fucking hate deer.

(There was a TV documentary showing how foxes evade dog packs.  It showed the running through the stream and the running along a fence to evade.  Then it told a story from England, where hunters saw a fox in a field and released the hounds.  They noticed the fox ran one way into the forest when, usually, foxes run the other way because that's where the streams and fences are.  The hunted fox ran across an electrified train track.  The hunt pack hit the third rail and eight dogs got juiced.  The remaining dogs, having no concept of electricity, are standing around in confusion and don't notice the train is coming.  Splat!  Ten more puppies got offed.  At some point, the fox saw and figured out the mechanics of the train and tracks.  In other words, this wasn't evasion, the fox actively plotted the dogs' demises.  And people wonder why I'm so enamored with foxes.)

This morning, I get up and fire up The Angry Red Dragon, my trusty car.  I get on the way to work, and just before the ramp to the highway, cars start slowing down.  On the right side of the road are two deer, walking along and about to set foot on the road.  The other car swerves wide.  I slam my horn and slow waaaaaay the fuck down.  The deer is about halfway on the road when it looks right at me like a sleepwalker.  It then goes across the road like someone moving out of your way at the grocery store -- a little faster than usual, but clearly doesn't see why you have to bother them.  The other deer is just standing there.  I start driving between them, and the Dragon is halfway past the second deer when it suddenly decides to try crossing the street WHILE MY CAR IS IN FRONT OF IT.  BAM!  I hear the thud of it walking into the back half of my car.  I pull over and look.  No damage to the car, no scratches, not even the dust layer from the snow and frost has been disturbed.  I check at lunch just in case it was something I couldn't see in the dark, and nothing.  The Dragon is absolutely none the worse for wear (there's a lot of hollow space in the doors, creating loud acoustics.  One of my dipshit family members and I went to a store.  I'm parked and waiting, windows down and arm hanging out.  He's coming in to a parking spot.  Just as he stops, I slap my car door.  He shifts into reverse, pulls to the other side of the parking lot, and doesn't come anywhere near there.  I still haven't told him what really happened).

Just walking into a car right in front of you?  I fucking hate deer.
Tags: haven't we suffered enough, important life lessons, stupidity
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