Nature Hates You? Seriously, Deer Really DO Hate Me

Who knew there was a whole YouTube subsection about the loathing Mother Nature exhibits towards us, her most rebellious citizens?

Looking for “Nature” videos like the sweet little tree-hugger I am, here’s what I found instead:

At first I was properly horrified. Watching Bambi’s mother die, for entertainment? Who is this humorless monster?

Then I drove to work Saturday morning.

Now, understand, I’m a BAKER. I leave for work at 4:30 am. (That’s in the off-season. Before October, it’s 4–but who’s counting sleep-minutes?) That cinnamon-roll dough ain’t gonna rise itself.

As usual, my headlights picked up the eerie glare of deer-eyes as soon as I pulled out of my rural driveway. As usual, half a mile down the road, a mother and mid-size fawn ambled across the pavement in front of me. Then the doe stopped and stared right through my windshield, and it hit me: that video’s right.

Deer DO hate me. They ARE murderous aliens from outer space. And…they know I know. That orangey stare? That was a warning.

Lucky for me, they just aren’t very competent murderous aliens. My high count for deer, on my 10-mile drive to town, is 25. Number of times I’ve had to stomp on the brakes? Lost count. Number of times I’ve had to manually “stomp” on my bicycle brakes to avoid hitting Bambi’s mom? Also countless. And yet…they haven’t managed to snare me. My front bumper and my nature-girl conscience are still clean. (OK, there was that one raccoon…but that’s a different post.)

Shotgun-hunting season, in our neck of the woods, ended this weekend. Bow hunting’s still allowed. I, Tree-Hugger Nature Girl, say “Go for it.” Let’s thin that herd before it thins us.

Because I know they know I know.

What about you? Any scary run-ins with the antlered demons? Like to hunt? Hate hunting? Find the whole Bambi’s-mother question too traumatic to discuss? Tell me anyway.