No Freedom From Consequences
Young deer in Jefferson Barracks Park, September 27, 2025
Last night, Dobby and I were taking our evening walk in the park with Dobby’s friend, Doc, an Australian Shepherd who isn’t at all reluctant to express his dissatisfaction with the slow pace enforced by his human, Mel, short for Melanie, a bright light of a woman with an infectious laugh who swears that she’s old in spite of her many mannerisms that indicate otherwise.
It’s a three-mile loop that we walk through Jefferson Barracks Park, one of the larger parks in St. Louis, occupying land that was once one of the oldest military bases in the Midwest. Both the base and the park are named after Thomas Jefferson, who remains, in spite of his unpopularity in certain circles, my favorite Founding Father.
Apart from its many original buildings that have been around since the mid-1800s, the park is home to a whole mess of wildlife, including SO many groundhogs, a large barred owl that nearly took my head off last night, and a prolific population of whitetail deer.
While my companions and I were in the homestretch of our trek, we spotted a group of eight of those deer being chased by a group of three screaming children, all of whom were being urged on by their young parents. They were clearly having a Disney movie moment.
And without even thinking about it, I raised my hands over my head and yelled, “STOP IT!”
We approached the family (not intentionally…our paths were going to cross no matter what), and the father, trying to hide his irritation, held out his arms and said, “What, are we not allowed to chase deer in the park?”
I put my hands up in a show of “I’m not a threat,” and replied very calmly, “You can do whatever you like, but I wouldn’t advise it.”
“Why not?” he asked, giving me the impression that the conversation might have been going differently if not for the presence of his children and a thick, colorful leash with a large Aussie at one end.
I took a deep breath to mask a heavy sigh that wouldn’t have cooled things down at all. And then I explained it to them.
“When you chase the deer,” I said, measuredly, “and they start running, they don’t stop until they’re sure the threat is gone. And when they’re running, they don’t stop to look both ways before crossing the road. That’s how they get hit and killed. And then someone has a wrecked car to pay for, or maybe a hospital bill.”
I saw that look come over his face. Not quite penitant, but at least a bit contrite.
“I didn’t even think about that,” he said.
He thanked me, coralled his brood, and we all went on our merry way.
And the only thing about that interaction that impressed me about myself was that I didn’t go into detail about how badly any one of those deer could have hurt one of those kids, none of whom was more than seven or eight.
Seriously, though. Deer are adorable. And they’re at the bottom of the food chain. But go to YouTube and search for “Deer Attacking Human” before you think about approaching them.
