Having just gotten back from another "wild goose chase", I really just wanted to stay home. The call however was about a baby deer that had just gotten hit by a car. The caller said the fawn was okay, that it had a few cuts and scrapes, but that the mother had taken off across the road leaving the baby lying on the other side.

Wildlife rehabilitators need special facilities to handle deer. Until I could arrange to get it to the proper rehabilitator, I asked the gentleman if he could bring it to me. He said he was on his way to a meeting that would last a few hours and assured me the deer would be fine. He had placed it in a pile of laundry in the back of his van and his "friendly" dog was watching it.

"Oh no." I thought to myself. I knew the caller was trying to do the right thing, but he needed to understand that the fawn was being terrorized right now. I tried to explain. He told me not to worry, that the deer was going in and out of consciousness anyway. My thoughts worsened. I quickly asked for directions and set off to "rescue" the creature.

When I got there, I found him awake, but upside down in the wheel well of the van. The dog was on the front seat looking quite uncomfortable. I tried to gently flip the deer up and out of the hole he was in. I was concerned about taking a hoof to the face. He was much bigger than I expected, and would not fit into my largest animal carrier. I quickly transported him by car to my house and called Noreen Olek for help.

She, in the mean time, called Dr. Tomaschke for instructions on additional stabilization procedures. The deer obviously had a head injury as well as abrasions. We administered a drug to help reduce swelling and provided fluid therapy of lactated ringers, subcutaneously. As we carried him on a homemade blanket stretcher, Noreen remarked to me that we better hurry up and pen him. Once the drug kicked in, he was liable to come to again with renewed vigor. Sure enough, we had just gotten him in place when he made a bee-line for the pen door. 'Geez, talk about a Hercules...' she said. So 'Hercules' it became.

Somehow the young fawn had made it through the night. I had left him the night before - around 2:00 AM with little hope. I woke up at 5:30 to check him and to my surprise he was still alive. Then began the parade of people volunteering to help monitor his welfare. In shifts, from that morning till night, we worked. Because of his condition, it was agreed that this fawn could not be moved yet. The next day, I woke up early to feed him. My face fell as I reached his area. Now his hip was swollen abnormally and I knew there was something more wrong with him than we had all initially thought. I fed him and made arrangements through Noreen to get more veterinary help as soon as possible.  I waited for her to call me at work.

Dr. Jean Feldman was kind enough to make a house call. The scene was, fortunately, one I did not witness. Hercules had a broken hip from the accident. The fracture that initially was not visible to 5 or 6 other people the previous day, had apparently worsened. The bone was now protruding through the flesh. Maybe he was thrashing around and caused it to puncture through ... I'll never know. But because of this kind of injury, he had to be put down.

Noreen delivered the news to me at work. Her voice told me how serious it had been. I felt bad I wasn't there and relieved at the same time. The whole (continued) thing zapped my attitude. Someone suggested I call the town dog catcher for help in disposing of the carcass, but sadly I knew it was no longer a carcass. Instead, that evening when I got home from work, I stood staring at the shell of an animal who had fought with all its' might to survive--an animal that couldn't compete against his grave injury despite his determination. This was an animal who rallied a group of people, renewing their strength and commitment to making a difference for other living things as a whole.

I wondered if the entire concept wasn't ridiculously futile. I covered the now much frailer looking creature with a blanket to protect him from the flies that were already beginning to swarm, even though he had been gone just a few short hours. I felt sick to my stomach and resolved to leave him be for the night.

The next morning was spent digging a grave deep enough to accommodate his long legged body. The ground was hard and dry and it was difficult work. It was, of course, the least I could do. Eventually, the sweat streaming down my forehead turned into tears. As I gently placed him into a curled position, it reminded me of how his mother would have left him resting in the woods. I promised not to lose faith. I said my good byes. No longer did he look like Hercules.