Babies in Our Backyard, Part 2
- At July 22, 2011
- By Roxanne Snopek
- In Life, Roxanne Writes On
- 0
Wednesday evening, my next-door neighbour Sherri came to our door in a panic.
“Is your husband home?” she asked. “There’s a fawn at the bottom of our road. We think it’s been hit by a car.”
People had already called the SPCA, the police, animal control, anyone they could think of, and nobody could help. Since my husband’s a veterinarian, and we’re kind of known as the local “animal people” – our three dogs and four cats might be a tip-off – Sherri thought of us.
As it happened, Ray wasn’t home yet, which meant he was still at the clinic, but that’s only about 5 minutes away. I told Sherri I could put the fawn in the back of my car and bring it to him.
If nothing else, I thought, we could at least provide humane euthanasia.
But when I got there, I found that the fawn had not been hit by a car. However, she had been wandering in circles on the road, where she probably would have been hit, so a couple of guys tried to shoo her into the woods, when they noticed a wound on her rump. They couldn’t get her off the road, but they managed to get her restrained on the sidewalk, where she lay, kicking and bawling.
For anyone who hasn’t heard a fawn cry, ooooh, shudder. It’s heart-wrenching.
A small crowd had gathered by the time I got there, and we noticed Mama-deer hovering nearby. I saw the wound, but since Baby was so feisty – really, those hooves are a lot sharper than you’d imagine – I suggested we let her up so she could get back to Mama.
But when we stood back, Baby just lay there. She was in shock, no doubt stressed from our inept handling, as much as anything.
While she was still, I took a closer look. Other than the laceration on her leg, she didn’t look injured, but it was a nasty cut, infected, oozing pus and serum. Plus, she’d scraped her face up on the concrete, struggling against her would-be rescuers.
By this time, a conservation officer had shown up. His mandate was also humane euthanasia, which he was prepared to do pretty much right then. And for a critical injury, it would be absolutely the right thing.
Now, this fawn wasn’t critically injured, but there’s a good chance she’d succumb to her infection, or be coyote or cougar bait. We couldn’t see Mama around anymore and the fawn certainly wouldn’t survive alone. We’d already intervened; now we were committed. Euthanasia or treatment, we had to do something.
“If you want her,” said the conservation officer, clearly relieved to be relieved of his duty, “this is your chance.”
Ray and I feel pretty protective of our mountain creatures, and Ray always plays Good Samaritan when he happens onto a dog or cat in distress. But deer are a little out of his area of expertise. So he called our friend Kenny Mac, a wildlife veterinarian, who thankfully, knows how to restrain a fawn without hurting it, and without getting clocked by those hooves.
Between him, Ray and me, we got Baby safely to the clinic, cleaned her wound, gave her antibiotics and fluids and a safe place to rest for the night. By morning, she was on her feet, bawling for breakfast, looking 100% better.
She’s now being cared for by Critter Care, a local wildlife rescue and rehabilitation center, and will be released back to the wild as soon as possible.
Maybe one day Baby will make her way back home. I hope so.