The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1337 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

We waited with the injured youth until the ambulance came, followed shortly by the breakdown truck, who towed his car away.

The paramedics couldn’t keep straight faces when I told them what had happened to the bloke.

“He hit this deer, which seemed shocked more than actually hurt.”

“That his car?” the male paramedic pointed to the damaged machine.

“Yes.”

“What sort of deer was it, an elk or something–whatever he hit, he certainly gave a good whack to.”

“All I can say, is we were calming the poor beast down and he walked round behind it effing and blinding, and it kicked out and caught him dead centre of his meat and two veg–which might be a trifle creamed now.”

“He got kicked by the deer he hit?”

“Yes, in one.”

“Poetic justice I suppose.”

“He was fair belting along the road, he passed us at well over sixty miles an hour.”

“Speeds can be hard to estimate. Anyway, thanks for your help–I expect your Bambi will drop dead anytime soon–after that impact.”

They drove off.

“That won’t happen will it?” asked Trish eyes already filling with tears.

“I don’t know, kiddo, we did our best–it’s up to its body and the gods of the woodland.” Why do I say these things.

“Could we ask Jesus to help her?”

“You can if you like, I’m sure it won’t do any harm.”

She scrunched up her eyes and put her hands together, “Jesus, me an’ Livvie want you to help a deer get better–the one we helped after it was hit by a dickhead drivin’ a car. Please make her better an’ let her have her baby. Thanks, Amen.”

Brief and to the point–the Almighty shouldn’t have too much trouble filing that one away. Given that I’d sat through a half hour of total bilge, I reckon, God, if He exists, owed me one. If He saved the doe and her fawn, I’d consider us quits.

“Should we go an’ look, she went into that wood over there?” Livvie pointed across a bit of scrub.

“Me an’ Mummy’ll go an’ look,” said Trish.

“We’ll take the others back,” said Julie, “if you want to go and see?”

“C’mon, Mummy, you’re good at tracking animals.”

As she was practically dragging me through the hedge, I agreed and we set off walking as she wheeled her bike alongside me. My major concern was for the fawn she was carrying–although–if she died, there’d be no one to feed it and it would die in any case. Perhaps we should have left well alone and just allowed her to die with her baby. How can you do that in front of a handful of kids–you have to do something and if you have a certain reputation–you have to do what’s expected. I did and it got up–didn’t quite pick up its bed–and walked.

The ground was quite hard, so the only track we had was where she’d trodden down the grass, once we got into the wood, that disappeared. I shrugged to Trish.

“But we gotta find her, Mummy.”

“Trish, if we find her, the chances are the light didn’t work. If we don’t find her it might be that she’ll survive.”

“Oh,” she said looking puzzled. I think she’d been working on the opposite effect.

I recognised the wood as the one I’d lost Trish in before. This time she was staying close. I did find some deer slots on a damp piece of ground and they were fresh but we had no way of knowing if it was our doe. If we’d found bits of matey’s breeding equipment in the prints, we’d have had more idea. I decide to suggest that they were probably our doe’s slots and we could head for home.

Then something stopped us in our tracks, a deer fawn standing by the collapsed mother. It looked as if she’d managed to lick the membrane off the baby’s face so it could breathe, but it seemed as if the effort had been too much.

I walked up slowly to the fawn, which was probably still quite wobbly, and picked it up. Trish dropped her bike and came and held it, while I checked out the mother. She was dead with probably a massive peri-natal haemorrhage, there was loads of blood about.

Trish was crying, what do we do, Mummy?”

“We should leave it, but that’s tantamount to murder.” I picked it up and slung it over my shoulders, Trish picked up her bike and led us back to the house.

I had no idea if it would survive anyway, who knows what injuries the car crash could have caused to it. It seemed to settle down across my shoulders and I lumbered on towards the house.

When we got there, the others had just arrived before us. They were delighted that we’d found the fawn, but sad that the mother had died. Tom came out to see what all the excitement was about. He offered to shoot the fawn but the kids were horrified.

I got an old feeding bottle of Catherine’s warmed a little cow’s milk and the young animal sucked away for all it was worth. It was a young male and they named it Bambi–what else?

There was room in one of the sheds to lock it up, but we needed to get some straw first. Tom rang someone who turned up an hour later with a couple of bales. We laid it on the shed floor and I put a bucket of fresh water in there as well. I also washed the animal to stimulate it and gave it some more milk.

Kiki was quite intrigued by our guest and she got herself shut in the shed with it. When we looked in after I’d been out to get some full fat milk, they were both curled up together as if they’d adopted each other. Oh well, in this house that seems par for the course.

In some respects, I was glad that Kiki had opted to look after it, she could help to keep it warm that night–she wouldn’t even leave it for her food–we had to take it out to her.

I tried calling a local wildlife sanctuary but they weren’t answering. I’d try again tomorrow, they’d probably have better resources to look after it than we did, and I’d happily give them a reasonable donation to take it in.

The girls thought it was wonderful–I didn’t, it was a wild animal which would probably become imprinted on humans and fall foul to the first one with a gun or a dog that it happened across. I know we’d interfered with nature and that has consequences.

Talking of which I got back to the house to see a police car parked outside it. I assumed it was regarding the accident. It was.

It transpired that the young man, one Wayne Docherty, had filed charges against me.

“On what grounds?” I asked.

“He said you slapped him, your daughter hit him twice and you did nothing to stop her, and you encouraged a wild animal to attack him. He also blamed you causing him to drop his mobile phone and he accused you and your children of being witches.”

I had difficulty holding back my laughter. “Witches–did he see us on broomsticks or something? I only saw bicycles myself, as did the paramedics–ask them.”

“They said he was unconscious when they arrived, so only had your word for what transpired.”

“He hit a doe because he was speeding. My kids happened on the scene and wanted to help it. It was very shocked and we managed to calm it down, unlike the driver who was angry and very rude to all of us. I asked him to moderate his foul language in front of my children and he made lascivious suggestions to me. I was offended, and yes I slapped him on the face, but not very hard.

“He went to hit me back and my seven year old hit him in the groin, then when he bent down she smacked him in the face.

“As far as the deer is concerned, we had her standing up and he walked round behind her and was still swearing like a trooper, he made as if to kick her–he’d just dropped his phone and blamed it on everyone but himself–and she kicked behind her and caught him in the groin–he fell down and rolled into a patch of nettles, but seemed well enough to continue swearing at us–then he saw he was bleeding and passed out–I called for help.”

“I see, quite frankly it’s his word against yours, he can’t prove you injured him considering the deer did most of the damage–thank God we can’t prosecute the deer.”

“You’re too late, she died in the wood after giving birth to a fawn.”

“It might be for the best, did the fawn die too?”

“No, I’ve got it up in the shed–I’m hoping a local wildlife refuge will take it.”

“Okay–they’re not a protected species, but we’ll let the RSPCA know you have it.”

“Fine, but I’m not planning on keeping it, even though my kids want me to.”

“So why did he think you were witches? He said something about blue light.”

“How would I know? Let’s face it, he was speeding had a major collision with a deer and was probably shocked. His behaviour was irrational from the moment we met him–so I suspect it was shock–at least I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt. However, if he pursues this then I shall initiate counter charges of threatening behaviour, driving dangerously–shall I go on?”

“No, I’ll make those points to him and see what he says.”

“You’re, Lady Catherine Cameron, aren’t you?”

“Yes, why?”

“Oh nothing, you have a certain reputation for costing people their pensions.”

“Oh, that’s news to me.”

“Don’t you own a bank or something?”

“I don’t, but my father-in-law does.”

“There’s your answer. The silly fool might try to sue you, but I’ll try and suggest he might end up with major costs against him.”

“I think it highly likely, in fact I’d suggest it has a probability of about point 9 recurring.”

“Okay, thanks for your time, but we have to check these things out–an’ I have a mortgage with your bank.”

“Don’t worry, officer, I won’t hold you responsible whatever happens.”

“Thanks.” He left hopefully to talk some sense into the shithead being treated for an acute deer rash of the goolies.