This is the young buck deer who got his not watching the traffic right outside the west end of town. The local kids hang out right on that turn. I figure it’s just a matter of time before one of the two-legged youngsters get it the same way the four-legged one did. Their little legs are gonna snap just like that; probably hold together inside their blue jeans, though. Those logging trucks hit hard and don’t slow down.
This guy was hanging half in the road so I stopped quick — the blue Toyota, Miz Blue, is small enough to squeeze onto the border of the road — and hauled him into the grass. Those little rib bones wouldn’t be good for somebody’s tires.
I thought about throwing him into the back of the truck, but his eyes were looking a little too green.
He’s the first dead deer I’ve seen up here. Realized why, too — usually when somebody smacks a deer, they must hop out and throw it into the back of the truck. Well, it seems reasonable. Meat is meat.
Next dead deer I see up here — if ever — there’s venison on the menu. His eyes weren’t that green.