A week or so ago, my daughter, Kavvi, and I were driving home from a quick trip to town. A couple of miles from our house, Kavvi looked over and saw a deer in the ditch on the side of the road. She thought the deer was alive, so we turned around and drove back, pulling over and crossing to see if she was okay.
She was sitting up, alert and unmoving. We couldn’t see anything that looked like an injury. As my daughter stepped closer, the deer tried to get up, and it became immediately clear that at least one of her back legs was broken. She cried out in pain and slumped back into the ditch, sitting still now, just watching us with her wide beautiful eyes.
She didn’t look afraid. I’ve helped animals in this kind of situation enough times to know that they understand when they need our help and are grateful for it. She was.
Kavvi and I were both upset, but I tried to keep a clear head and called someone to come and help us get her out of the ditch.
She wasn’t in a good place, right on the side of the road. Cars and trucks and tractor trailers kept coming by in both lanes, some slowing down, as I asked them to, some not. Three cars out of forty or so asked if we needed help. The rest drove on.
Rodney Hubbard, who helps us on our farm, came with our truck and got out to see what could be done. We decided it would be best to lift her out of the ditch and put her in the truck where I would drive her to the veterinary clinic where we take all of our dogs and cats. I had tried calling a couple of local veterinarians I know who are sometimes in the area, but was unable to reach anyone.
We slowed traffic the best we could while Rodney bent to pick her up. She was probably less than a full year old, not yet fully grown. As soon as he lifted her, it became clear that both of her back legs were broken. One dangled precariously, nearly severed.
I immediately started to cry. We put her in the truck in the back seat with my daughter. The young deer lay across her lap as if it were something she was completely used to. I can’t imagine the pain she must have been in.
We both cried most of the way to the clinic. I knew the outcome would not be good. And I questioned why God had put us in that spot because honestly, it wasn’t a day I was feeling strong enough to handle something this painful. But as we drove, and I could so clearly see how at peace the deer was, I understood why he put us there.
Don't turn away. Keep your gaze on the bandaged place. That's where the light enters you. - Rumi
I don’t know who hit her, or how long she had been there, but I do know that she would have died there, alone and in pain, suffering. And while I dreaded reaching the clinic and making the decision I knew we faced, I realized that we were the angels’ wings carrying her to peace. We couldn’t save her life, but we could end her suffering and send her on to a better place. I believe this is what God intended for us to do that day. That He didn’t want her to lie there suffering and ignored.
The veterinarian and clinic staff were as compassionate as it is possible to be. They came out to the truck and the doctor gave the deer a sedative to relax her. And then a few minutes later, we put her to sleep. It was peaceful, and as hard as it was to experience that, I wouldn’t redo any of it. Just knowing that her suffering was ended and she did not die alone gave us comfort that we had done the right thing.
We asked that she be cremated. A few days later, we picked up her ashes and brought them home to our farm. Kavvi and I drove down to the creek where so many of the deer on our farm rest peacefully in a wide grass area in the afternoons. We spread her ashes there, close enough that she can hear the creek gurgling and know the comfort of the deer who will join her spirit there daily.
Later that afternoon, I went outside to walk up to the barn and looked out at one of the fields not far from our house. There was a lone deer there, grazing, peaceful, content and safe. I think God let me see that to remind me that she is with him, doing exactly that on green grass in a place I hope to see her again someday.