A sad part of Life on Whidbey Island

Driving home today I hit a baby deer.

It darted right in front of me.  My attention was on the road, and I was driving under the speed limit.  I'm very glad because otherwise I would feel so guilty.  It just darted out and ran right in front of me.  I stomped on the brakes, but it was too late.

This is part of living here--there are a lot of deer, too many in fact, and no predators except for a few coyotes that can take down a baby deer if the mother isn't watching carefully.  Dead deer on the side of the road are a common sight.

And with the increase in people population, it has become more difficult for hunters to take deer, which I think is more humane and makes more sense than just having them die in car accidents.

This is hard to write.  The baby wasn't dead--it was twitching, and trying to move, but clearly its back was broken.  So, after telling Vicky to look the other way, I had to kill it.  

It felt so wrong, but what was I to do?