Today as we were driving to Sarah Lawrence College to see a dance performance that our daughter had helped to choreograph, we flew by a flailing dear in the middle of a hideously busy highway. We pulled over immediately.
As I walked back up the highway, cars flew by. I was sure that I would see the deer shattered in the road. But instead, it had made its way to the side of the road, helped by two young women who had seen it and stopped before we had. The accident had happened in the northbound lane, and somehow the deer ended up on the southbound side.
Its back legs were broken, and it was obviously in terrible pain. The two young women had called the police, who said they were coming but that the police could not shoot the deer. It was an animal control issue.
Here is the shocking part. A young man stopped by the side of the road not to help, but to video the struggling women and the dying deer. During the 30 minutes we waited for the police to come, hundreds of cars tore by us and only one person, a woman, stopped to inquire if we were ok.
When the police did finally arrive, the young officer said that he would shoot the deer. By then, it had dragged itself even further into the thicket. He did shoot it, which was the kindest thing. We prayed the Buddhist prayer for the dying as it died: om tara tutare ture soha. Over and over.
This is a terrible story. The violent death of this deer is terrible enough. The worst part, however, is the indifference of others who witnessed it, and the idiotic voyeur with the camera. That is the unforgivable part.
There we were, four women, standing guard, waiting, not willing to leave an animal suffering. That does not make us heroic. It makes us human. Suffering should touch us. It should draw us in. It should open our hearts, stop us in our tracks, elicit our best selves.
I am uncomfortable on a soapbox. But this made me very, very angry, deeply pained. I was reminded of a conversation that I overheard at a cafe. A woman, laughing derisively, said to her dining partner, “Oh, she’s the type that stops to take a squirrel off the road.” Yes, I am.
This touched me so deeply, not only with pain for the deer but with renewed anger at a situation that happened to me a few years ago.
I was driving to work on a busy road and this small cat had been hit and left. Others were maneuvering around it but no one was stopping. I put on my emergency lights to slow the cars behind me, and I pulled diagonally across both lanes to stop traffic.
As with you, it took another woman to stop and help. The upshoot of the story is that the other woman eventually was able to get the cat to a vet. Good end for the cat. Me? The police arrived and I was ticketed for blocking traffic willingly. A hefty fine was levied. And guess what? I’d do it all over again.
If I am going to be one of the few lights shining for the good in humanity, then shine away I shall.
Absolutely!
I am too Paula.
What a gut-wrenching situation. Thank God you were there to ease the way for that innocent creature. There just doesn’t seem to be enough compassion in the world these days.
love………thank you.
one a sweeter note, Sunday as we were driving home, Jeff and I witnessed an older man wearing cowboy hat and dirty boots, stop his big, giant (I live in Texas) truck and gently remove a turtle from the middle of the road. He gently put it away from the traffic in a field of grass. I chapped for him!!!!