R.I.P., whoever you were

Every evening, as we're heading toward our driveway, I mentally steel myself--or, try to--to the thought that there might be a dead or, worse, dying deer nearby. Fortunately for my sanity, it's only happened a few times, and not to "anyone" we knew by name.

But last night, just before we turned into the driveway, we saw a dead, dull-brown large female; the only one that we "know" that looks like that is Stella. She and Stumpy have both turned from the reddish-brown that they all are as fawns and have become darker. Most of the others are redder than they are; Old Mommy is that shade, and the other mommies and Molly are becoming darker, but most are still that reddish-brown.

I felt so bad. I wonder if feeding the deer and playing games with their minds will get them killed. You know, they hang around while we feed them and then wander off on their rounds. Are we messing with nature?

So, anyway, I was moping around but went ahead and threw out some corn, calling Stumpy and Molly. Didn't call Stella, although it's habit to say "StellaandStumpy" when I yell for them. No one showed up until almost dark.

I called Tom to make sure that I was seeing what I thought I saw. (You know how bad my brain is, not to mention my sight.) There was Stumpy--and Stella! Alive!! Not injured!!!

Relief!

The babies (Molly, JasonandKelsey) and their mommies weren't there last night, but we haven't given up on them yet.