The Dark Side of Bambi

Don’t be fooled by those big, brown eyes

I was eight years old in 1969 when I saw Disney’s “Bambi” for the first time. I’m sure you’re familiar with the story — a young deer romping in the forest with his little woodland pals including Thumper, the rabbit and Flower, the skunk. Adorable, right? I think not.

That movie brainwashed every kid in America into thinking that deer are gentle, meek, benign animals that should be adored and protected.

I bought into that paradigm. When we first moved from Southern California to the Texas Hill Country, my husband and I stood transfixed at the window whenever we saw white-tailed deer in our yard. “There’s deer in our backyard! Can you believe it?” I’d stage whisper to my husband. “They’re so beautiful!”

And it’s true. They are graceful, lyrical creatures: enormous dewy brown eyes, long, delicate legs, creamy brown coats, perky tails that flash white as they bound through the trees.

The ballerinas of the animal kingdom.

I texted pictures of them to my friends and felt a certain smug satisfaction when they responded with “Wow! Beautiful!” Even after living here two and a half years I’m amazed that we have front-row seats to watching these animals in their natural habitat.

Then we saw the dark side of the deer. They’re destructive. They gorge on unprotected flower gardens and vegetable patches. They can mow down a planting of rhododendrons like a buzz saw.

Deer destroyed the expensive Japanese maples my husband planted in our yard. First, they stripped the leaves off every branch they could reach. During the rut in November, the bucks raked their antlers over the trunks and our beautiful trees died a slow, sad death.

We scoured websites looking for deer repellent sprays. We bought gallons of a nasty malodorous cocktail — a noxious, putrid mix of garlic, chili pepper, fish oil, magnesium, and urea. Eau de rotten eggs. We gowned up in our hazmat suits and sprayed the stuff over our entire yard. The deer were back the next day. We finally decided to encircle our vulnerable plants with six-foot-high fencing, which isn’t attractive but is effective.

And deer are stupid. Maybe not sheep stupid, but close to it. At least sheep don’t run out in front of speeding cars.

Rather than look both ways before crossing the road, deer pick the exact moment your four-thousand-pound metal and glass machine is moving at 70 miles an hour to dart out in front of you.

The roads here are littered with deer carcasses from car-on-deer action. It happened to me. I was minding my own business, driving home from the gym one morning after yoga class, full of Zen and mindfulness when BAM! A buck leaped across the guard rail and landed in front of my right bumper. What came out of my mouth at the moment of impact was neither calm nor yogi-like. WTF was that??? Fortunately, I didn’t lose control of the car and crash into another driver or a tree, but the car was a total loss.

When I told my California friends about “the unfortunate deer incident,” their first question was, “Is Bambi ok?” No, Bambi is not ok. Bambi is lying in a broken heap by the road. Next to all the other STUPID FREAKING DEER THAT BURST OUT OF THE TREES IN FRONT OF CARS.

That deer cost us $37,805.33 for a new set of wheels. Which doesn’t include increased car insurance premiums, money spent on landscaping, deer-repellent sprays, and fencing.

Now when we see deer in our yard, we yell. We jump up and down and wave our arms like maniacs. We know it’s ridiculous and a complete waste of energy, but it makes us feel better.

Another story about close animal encounters in Texas.

Susan Randolph is a nutrition coach happily writing, eating, and cooking in the beautiful Texas Hill Country.