One Evening with a Deer
My husband, Gary and I go on a walk pretty much every day. One evening, about 20 years ago, we took our usual route: up the access road from our house, down West Lake Road about a mile, and back. We wore our reflective vests and carried flashlights because it was starting to get dark. We live in the woods near a small lake in upstate NY.
After we reached the turn-around point, we switched to the other side of the road to walk back home. On that side of the road, there was a fairly deep drainage ditch at the bottom of a steep rocky ridge. There were paths where deer would come down the ridge and cross the road on their way to the lake. We’d gone about 50 feet when I heard a rustling and what sounded like an animal in pain. We stopped and looked for where the sound was coming from. I doubled back and saw a deer struggling to get up and falling back down in the ditch. I went over to her slowly and started talking to her, hoping to calm her down so I could see what was wrong.
She’d been so quiet when we walked by on the other side of the road and we had not seen or heard a car hitting something or screeching to avoid an animal. I tried to think of other possible reasons for her distress. It was the wrong time of year for her to be giving birth, and the fact that she was struggling in a ditch by the road made it pretty obvious what had happened. She kept trying to get up and her legs would just crumble beneath her. It was clear she had broken her legs - probably hit by a car.
This was before we routinely carried our cell phones, so I asked Gary to go to a nearby house and ask if he could use their phone to call the game warden. There was no way I was going to leave this terrified deer alone. I sat right down in the ditch and started talking calmly to her and stroking her head. She settled down and stopped struggling to get up. I talked to her about how she was hurt and told her I would stay with her until we got help. Gary thought we should both walk home and call, but I told him I was staying with the deer. He went to see if he could call from the nearest house. I looked at this deer who was calm now and not scared of me. She let me pet her head and looked at me with those huge eyes. She seemed to understand and accept my efforts to comfort her. I continued to tell her I would stay with her until we got help. After a while, I came to understand she was dying and wanted me to stay with her until she left.
Gary came back to report there was no one home in the only house nearby and that he thought we should just go home and call the game warden. He said the deer was probably covered with ticks and was in pain. She should be “put out of her misery.” I considered this. Why would I sit there in the dark and the cold, by the side of the road with a dying wild animal who was covered with ticks? Did I really think I had some special connection with this wild animal?
I started to get up, and heard the deer try to move. I turned, and saw her looking at me as if to say, “How can you leave? You promised me you would stay with me.” It was love, and bewilderment that I might betray my promise to her. I had told her I would be there with her so she would not be alone and scared while she died – and she was calling me out on my promise. I told Gary he could walk home and call someone, but I was staying with the deer. It didn’t make sense to him; I understood that, and he knew I wasn't leaving.
I assured her I would stay and comfort her. She looked at me and kept her head in my lap. The urge to struggle and get away had left, along with the pain. I talked to her about what had happened and how I hoped she had enjoyed being a deer. She let me feel what it was like for her to run freely in the woods! As we continued to talk with pictures in our heads, she let me know she was aware it was nearing the time for her to leave her body.
After about 20 minutes, my husband drove back to where we were and a truck came with the game warden. The warden came over to check the deer to see if she could be helped. She never stopped looking at me. The warden told us she had broken her legs and probably had internal injuries. He went to get his gun from the truck. The deer lifted her head and looked into my eyes. We had a moment – a whisper of unconditional love and gratitude for our little time together. She laid her head back down on my lap and closed her eyes – gently passing on before the warden got to his truck.
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A Large Gaze of Raccoons
One day a few years ago, my cat Fiona and I heard a sad cry coming from a hollow in one of the trees overlooking the lake - about 30 feet up. A baby raccoon was creeping forward toward the edge of the hole, crying, then tentatively slipping back into the hole. I guessed one of the babies had fallen out of the nest and the mother was looking for it. I coaxed the little raccoon to stay away from the edge and wait for his mother to return. Fiona and I retreated to the deck to watch; my cat Twig joined us.
The mother raccoon returned and lumbered up the tree. She picked up the baby in her mouth and climbed down head-first. When mother raccoon saw us on the deck, she stopped and made eye contact with the three of us. The message was clear: “I am watching you. Do NOT go near me or my babies.” She then carried her baby right under the deck where we were.
By the spring of 2018, it became clear the raccoon family was not just living under our deck, but occasionally coming into our house. Raccoons CAN fit through a cat door! One morning my husband came across a raccoon dragging a 10-pound bag of dry cat food from the laundry room into the kitchen. When the raccoon saw him, she simply dropped the bag and headed for the cat door.
One night I heard the cupboard open in the laundry room and went to investigate. I found a raccoon who immediately assessed the situation and attempted an escape up the stairs to our bedroom. That door was shut and I was standing in the kitchen doorway, so she was trapped. Raccoons will fight if they feel trapped, and this was one of those situations. It was time to chat. I told the raccoon I was aware she was trapped and neither of us wanted to provoke a confrontation. I suggested an alternative: I would leave the laundry room and go get my husband. During that time, it would be to her advantage to leave promptly before I returned with him. She listened intently. As I left and went the other way around to our bedroom, I caught a glimpse of her galloping down the hallway toward the cat door.
At this point it was clear we had to do something about the raccoons (ya think?). While we dallied along researching the best way to do this, another incident occurred, which was – for me - the tipping point. I had baked gluten-free bread to take to our daughter. That night I left it on the kitchen counter, wrapped in aluminum foil – ready to go. In the morning, I found the bread had been carefully unwrapped and the top crust had been eaten off.
So, we bought a raccoon-sized “Havaheart” trap. We tried dry cat food as bait, but the raccoon ate the cat food and left the trap. While trying to figure out how the raccoon managed to do this, I came across a video of a raccoon who was living in someone’s garage and how he eluded the trap. I was amazed at the intelligence and ingenuity of this animal. After watching the video (see link below photo), we knew who we were up against. The raccoon was either tipping the trap from the outside so he could eat the cat food, or carefully eating the cat food without touching the trigger plate. We started using marshmallows, making sure to tuck them behind the trigger plate so the raccoon had to step on it to get them out. Sure enough, we started catching raccoons.
There a few things you need to know when you catch and release raccoons. First, keep an eye on the trap because they become very distressed when caught. You should relocate the raccoon within 2 hours of being caught. Lucky for us, the raccoons had a schedule. A raccoon usually arrived within minutes of turning off the house lights at night. You should release the raccoon at least 5-10 miles from your home or they will return. Less than that, and the raccoon will very likely return.
A few days after the relocation of #11, my husband left on a fishing trip. Thursday night before he left, he considered putting out the trap, but I nixed the idea. I didn’t want to transport a trapped, and possibly agitated raccoon late at night - alone!. Friday morning, he left for the weekend. I worked that day, then met my sister for dinner and a movie. Before bed, I went out on the deck to look at the stars and be grateful for my life in the woods. I heard an all too familiar scuffling noise on the other side of the deck, which sounded a lot like a trapped raccoon. What? We had agreed not to set the trap! I turned on the outdoor light. There was the trap with an extremely harried and exhausted raccoon looking at me with so many questions. He had pulled out some of his fur, defecated all over the place, and somehow dragged himself and the trap 6-8 feet to a potted hibiscus tree, where he uprooted and ate a large impatien plant that was also in the pot. Fortunately, they were edible plants.
So, there we are. It’s 2:00 AM, and very dark. I realize my husband must have set the trap out of habit and this wretched raccoon had probably been trapped for well over 24 hours. There was no way I was going to drive him to the relocation site which was 8 miles away down a steep winding dirt road in a forest. I sat down on a storage box and looked at this raccoon. It was again time to chat. I told him I was extremely sorry he had gone through this, and I was impressed with his ingenuity in finding some sustenance to get him through his ordeal. I explained that even though I knew he was expecting to be transported to his family’s new home, there was no way I was doing it that night. He was exhausted and needed to rest up for a few days, and then I could catch him again and take him. I told him I was not sure I could open his trap, but after considering the look he gave me, assured him I would figure it out. It did take a few minutes... and he bolted out. When he got to the top of the stairs going down to the lawn, he stopped and turned around to look at me again. The message was clear: “You are forgiven, but next time let’s just get on with the relocation.” Two days later, looking much better, he allowed himself to be trapped and we took him to his family.
Last winter Fiona spotted a couple of raccoons eating bird seed out on our deck. One was very plump. Most raccoons who are that plump in winter… are pregnant. Hmmm...
There was a moment when Elvira gave me an odd look, which I am pretty sure had something to do with my particular take on how to perform in that scene. I decided to send it anyway – mainly because I couldn’t stop laughing at how ridiculous I looked and how perfectly natural and normal Elvira acted – in spite of my behavior. Oddly, we never heard back from them, and I am pretty sure it wasn’t on the show. I mean, they would have invited us to be there for the showing, right? ?
Some people say cats won’t do what you ask of them. I think they’ll do anything if it’s an opportunity to watch their human behave like a complete fool, and then laugh about for years to come.
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Mom Saves Nimrod, the Mighty Hunter
All sorts of things can happen to little animals on a farm. When you have feral cats residing in your barn, you will also have kittens. Most of the time while I was growing up, we were not allowed to have cats as pets in the house. So I was grateful the feral mother cats didn’t seem to mind if we played with their kittens. I named one little gray tiger kitten Nimrod (the mighty hunter) because he was rambunctious – stalking and pouncing on everything. Nimrod had survived the first test for a barn kitten: getting to the fresh cow's milk we’d put out without getting stepped on by one of the cows.
However, like many barn kittens, Nimrod developed early symptoms of Distemper - the highly contagious virus feline panleukopenia (FPV). We’d first notice it as a crusty discharge around the eyes. Left untreated, a kitten with distemper can die. I was taught to dissolve a small amount of boric acid in boiling water, let it cool, then dip cotton balls in the water and carefully wash the discharge off the kitten’s eyes. I would do this faithfully twice a day for a week or so until their eyes cleared up. One day, while treating Nimrod, I noticed an odd looking opening on the bridge of his nose. It wasn’t a wound; it looked like an opening to a tiny cave. Because I thought I saw something moving in there, I showed my mother. Now, although a good farm wife, my mother did not often go in the barn and would get up on a chair if a mouse ran across the kitchen (one reason I lobbied for a house cat). But she helped me with Nimrod. She figured out the “something” I was seeing at the opening on Nimrod’s nose was alive and probably some sort of larvae. She bravely got tweezers and pulled an incredibly long disgusting looking white worm (AKA fly larvae) out of that tiny kitten’s face.
Although overwhelmingly intrigued with this new development in my understanding of animals and their life challenges living in a barn, I was most impressed with my mother for having the courage to remove the thing. This was one of my first realizations about how you cannot put a person in a general category (e.g., wimpy Mom) based on one trait (fear of mice). I began to notice my mother and her interactions with animals. I watched her hang laundry on the clothesline while talking to a garter snake sunning on a rock. She’d put sunflower seeds in her cupped hands and birds would perch and eat . Then there was the day the cow fell in the swimming pool. But that’s another story…
[Photos: Me holding Nimrod; Mom with birds on her hands.]
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Gray Bahamian Mama Cat
Speaking of mothers...
In the Bahamas there is the very small island of San Salvador (AKA Columbus Isle). This is where Christopher Columbus actually landed before realizing it was not the mainland he was aiming for. It is about 10 miles long and has one resort. My husband and I have gone there for a week’s vacation most winters for a number of years. One year there were several feral island cats and one I noticed in particular - a very scrawny light gray tiger cat. I had seen her when we walked back from meals to our room, and heard the staff angrily chasing her away from the kitchen garbage. She had made eye contact with me from the bushes and I noticed she was a nursing mother. Not wanting to cause problems in the eating areas, I brought little bits of fish from lunch back to my room and took them with me when I went out on the balcony to read. Within minutes she showed up and politely waited for me to invite her up on the porch to eat. I was well aware the resort staff would not approve, but could see her desperation. She was not comfortable enough for me to touch her, yet this went on for the few days until we left.
The next year, our room was in a different location – far from the restaurant area. The first morning after our arrival, I opened the doors to our little porch and the cat was curled up on the chair. She was so proud to show me how she was healthy, well-fed (and spayed), and ready to let me hold her! [Photo: Me and my island cat friend.]
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Do Cats Teach? 
In 2007, after my 19 ½ year old cat Elvira died, we adopted two calico cats. They informed me their names were Fiona and Twig. By the time Elvira left us, she had completely given up catching mice, so we were pleased to see Fiona wasted no time assuming her duties as house mouser. Twig had different interests. If she saw a mouse or chipmunk, she’d pick it up like a tiny precious kitten, bring it in the house, and let it loose. It would hide under furniture or in the radiators, and when it came out, she’d chase it for fun. Things went fine for these little rodents until Fiona saw them and promptly ate them.
This photo was taken one day when I saw these two intently focused on some activity under the radiator. Fiona had a tiny mouse, who was slightly injured but could still try to get away. Fiona would bat the mouse toward Twig, indicating she was supposed to go get it. Twig would literally jump backwards away from the mouse. Patiently, Fiona would retrieve the mouse and bat it toward Twig again, who would jump backwards. This was repeated many times until the mouse revived itself enough to hide under a large piece of furniture. Exasperated, Fiona gave up teaching, and ate the mouse later when it finally came out.
Twig still does not hunt mice… and still brings in healthy chipmunks so she can chase them around the house. There is no question in my mind Fiona was trying to teach Twig how to kill a mouse. I never thought I’d say this, but apparently you can bring a cat to a mouse, but you can’t make her eat it.
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