Back before i was strollin' the earth, my folks went to change some flood irrigation water at a canyon pasture my Grand-dad homesteaded. Dad took the shovel and mom and her sister took an old rifle and went to look for a dry doe for the table. Mom and my Aunt were gone around 45 minutes and had no luck. Dad had an old cow dog with him and he took after a yearling doe in the field. She ran flat out into a deer fence and snapped her neck. Dad went over and helped her bleed out and cleaned her and put her in the truck. When Mom and my Aunt got back they said they hadn't seen squat. Dad said he figured they would strike out so he took care of it. Aunt Ann said sure! Dad asked her how come he had blood on his hands. She ran to the truck and said... basically "We'll I'll be danged"! Then she wanted to know how he'd done it. Dad kept a straight face and said,"she ran past me in the tall wheat grass and I hit her on the head with my shovel". She and Mom bought that story for years until Pop finally had to fess up. That's the west desert version of fast food! And we see lots of deer hung up in fences. But not nearly as many that become roadkill. When they start migrating it gets ugly along the highways.
