JanDunlap.com

I always dread this time of year. Not because of the cooling temperatures, or the falling leaves that mean winter isn’t far behind, or even the early signs of the holiday season frenzy ahead.

What unnerves me is that the sun is going down sooner each evening, which means more hours of night and the fact that I will inescapably have to drive in the dark.

And that means I’m a target.

For deer.

You see, I know they’re out there, just waiting for me. They crouch on the sides of the road, hidden by bushes and shrubs, practically trembling with anticipation as they watch for the approach of my car.

“She’s coming! She’s coming!” Bambi and friends snicker in the darkness. “Let’s just jump out of nowhere right in front of her car and scare the bejeezus out of her!”

“Yeah! Yeah!” they snuffle.

“Then we’ll bump the edge of her front fender and leave a little fur right there, so when she gets home, she’ll think she hit one of us and maimed us for life.”

“Yeah! Yeah!”

“And then she’ll feel all guilty and not want to go out at night anymore because she’s afraid she’ll hit us.”

“Yeah! Yeah!”

The deer all fall down laughing. “We’ve got her number! Ha ha ha! And people think we’re just dumb animals! Take that, homo sapiens! Ha! Homo SAPS!”

The truth of the matter is that I did hit a deer once. It was about six in the evening on a November night and from out of nowhere, a deer suddenly materialized in front of my car on a county road. I almost braked, then remembered that somewhere I’d heard if you do that, you’ll get a deer through the windshield, so instead, I swerved. I heard a thunk against my front left fender and pulled over as soon as I could.

Steeling myself to see a dead deer bleeding all over the road, I looked back to the spot where I’d felt the deer hit the car.

Empty.

No dead deer. No blood. Not even any more cars.

I was relieved. I wasn’t going to have to stop traffic and do deer triage. I wasn’t going to have to call for an ambulance from the animal shelter or strap the wounded beast to my car and take it home to nurse back to health. Bambi had apparently survived our close encounter.

“At least long enough to get off the road,” my husband speculated when I got home and told him about the collision. “It probably just dragged itself off into the woods to die,” he added. “Alone. Helpless. Doomed.”

That sure made me feel a whole lot better. I’d dealt a mortal blow to an innocent animal and it was probably, at that very minute, writhing in its death throes.

“What should I do?” I asked my husband. “Am I supposed to call the police?”

“No,” he assured me. “It’s pretty rare that deer press charges against motorists. I think you’re okay.”

Then I checked my car. There was fur around where the left headlight used to be.

Bambi took a souvenir.

What was even odder was that the next morning when I took the car into the shop to repair the headlight, the car I parked next to was missing its right headlight.

“Yup,” the shop manager told me. “We replace lots of headlights this time of year.”

So not only are the deer just laughing their heads off at terrorizing us unsuspecting motorists, but they’re collecting our headlights. I bet they’ve got them mounted on the trees around their rec rooms. Rows and rows of headlights. Car trophies.

No more. I’m tired of being victimized by Bambi and friends. This year, I’m fighting back.

“What in the world have you got on?” my husband asked when I modeled my new fall ensemble for him.

“I found it on the cover of the Cabela’s catalog that came to the house,” I explained. “Do you like it?”

I slowly turned in my full-body camouflage overalls and parka, my camo cap and scarf, boots and gloves. I had a field-tested pack on my back, stuffed with a high-tech hunting bow and a quiver of arrows. Across my chest lay the pack straps and a new set of binoculars.

“You’re going hunting?”

I snorted. “Of course not. This is my deterrence outfit. I’m hoping it will scare the deer off from jumping at my car.”

My husband nodded. “I know it would scare the crap out of me. You look like a one-person camo SWAT team.”

“Thanks. That was exactly the look I was going for.” I pulled up my camo scarf to cover my cheeks. “I’m determined to make our roads safe again after dark.”

I headed for the car and tried to squeeze in behind the wheel, but my gear was too bulky. After a few minutes of trying to wedge myself in, I gave up and went back into the house.

“Change of plans?” my husband asked.

“Yes,” I told him. “I’m going to make the roads safe again some other night.”

Like maybe one night next spring…when it doesn’t get dark so early…