Saturday, December 16, 2006

Deer, Oh, Deer

Deer, Oh, Deer

Not often you get a headline like this one:
Hermaphroditic deer with 7 legs ‘tasty’ - Animal Peculiarity - MSNBC.com

This is a hands down favorite article of the week here at Shocked and Amazed hq. Scott especially loves the line, "And by the way, I did eat it," Lisko said. "It was tasty."

This story got me to thinking.

A couple weeks ago, I had to drive up to this part of PA that is right on the MD border. I don’t even remember the name of the town, so don’t ask.

Usually-reliable Google Maps (don’t even get me started on MapQuest. Losers.) had me taking this higgledy-piggeldy route through the scenic byways of Maryland. I guess they wanted me off the superhighway as fast as possible.

Anyway, I am in the middle of nowhere. It’s dead deer season. You know…the season where there are loads of road kill dear by the side of the road. I’m enjoying the stunning vistas and counting dead deer.

“Oh,” I say to myself, “lovely vista. One dead deer.”

“Oh,” I say to myself, “lovely vista. Two dead deer.”

“Oh,” I say to myself, “lovely vista. Three dead deer.”

“Oh,” I say to myself, “lovely vista. Four dead deer...without a head!”

Now, I’m not some kind of CSI/Quincy medical type pathologist person. However I do know a teeny weeny bit about how dead deer should look. Usually they have their heads. This one was different.

Now, this head was not separated from its body with a knife, saw or other sharp tool designed for head removal. Nope, this one looked like it had been twisted off. Sort of like when you wind and wind and wind a piece of taffy (but with more gore, of course) to get it to break off into a tiny bite sized piece.

Some wag had seen a road kill buck by the side of the road, admired its rack, stopped his car (because I cannot for the life of me imagine a girl doing this, it had to have been a “he”) and twisted the head off of this deer. Ick.

Of course, I am more concerned about the mess that thing is going to make in the vehicle of choice. Did he have a large garbage bag to wrap it in? Or perhaps a pickup truck with a bedliner so he could heave the head in, drive to the taxidermist and then hose down the pickup?

I worry about these things.

I call the hubby to share the news. He insists I lock the doors and stop nowhere in the immediate vicinity.

I share the story with the pal and his ma I am going to visit. She lives there. My pal lives in Baltimore. He is appalled she is nonplussed.

I am definitely following the hubby’s advice on the way home, too.

Driving back, I decided to forsake the vistas and deer and take the much safer (to my mind) superhighway on the way home.

Driving. Dead deer. Driving. Dead deer. (There’s not a whole lot of vistas on the superhighway to distract you from the dead deer thing.) Dead deer. Dead deer. Oh, dear. It’s a deer head by the side of the road. No body. Just a girl deer head. Doe. A deer, a female deer.

Please remember: completely different road. Miles and miles away from where I saw the decapitated deer.

Why did I have to see this?

posted by Kathleen Kotcher at 5:28 AM | Permanent Link

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