By Ashley Lodato
“Not dead yet” was such a popular theme last week that I am continuing it for at least one more round. And leave it to Jill Calvert to have her own show-stopping “not dead yet” story. As you read my account, just imagine Jill’s gestures and facial expressions adding to the
Jill hit a fawn with her car one summer afternoon and, as so often happens, the deer was injured but not killed by the impact. It’s a terrible feeling to kill a deer in a collision, but even worse is not quite killing it. It takes a strong will and a hearty constitution to be the driver who decides to make the best of a bad situation and put the deer out of its misery; Jill, of course, is made of such mettle.
The next few paragraphs contain graphic descriptions that might not be suitable for Bambi fans, so consider yourself warned. And remember — this was going to be a mercy killing. It’s undeniably cruel to let an animal slowly die in the afternoon heat just because (like most of us) you weren’t up to the task of speeding up the process.
“I knew I had to kill the poor thing,” says Jill, “but I didn’t really have any way to do it.” Ah, but she did have her bare hands. “I figured I had to just strangle it,” she says.
So Jill grabbed the deer around the throat, and the deer’s tongue was lolling out of its mouth (picture Jill rolling her eyes back and letting her tongue hang out), but that didn’t work.
Next, Jill decided to step on the deer’s neck to break it (this may sound cruel to you city folk, but remember, the alternative is the deer dying a slow painful death). And the deer’s eyes were rolling back and its tongue was hanging out of its mouth (picture Jill again), but still that deer did not die.
So Jill dragged the fawn under a tree to get it out of the summer heat and did what any of the rest of us might have done in the first place — she called a friend to deal with it. The friend, Cathy Upper, said that she would take care of the deer for Jill; Jill was off the hook.
When Jill returned to her house later that evening there was a sticky note on her door. “Found your fawn scampering up the hill,” was all Cathy wrote.
If you’ve ever wondered why there are so many deer around here, now you know — they’re darned near impossible to kill.
Gratitude this week to organ donors and the medicine that makes organ donation possible. I saw Randy Thordarson up at Chickadee on Sunday — he and his donated kidney were celebrating their one-year anniversary together with an invigorating ski in 10 degree temps.