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- Dec. 7, 2021 (Part 1) I learn about a deer buried on my property
- Dec. 22, 2021 (Part 2) I talk with the HOA and come up with a plan (revised March 2023)
- Dec. 23, 2021 (Part 3) Best Handyman Ever and I go shopping for compost starter (which is out of season)
- Dec. 29, 2021 (Part 4a) I enthrall Best Handyman Ever with bad poetry
- Dec. 29, 2021 (Part 4b) I purchase ingredients for do-it-myself compost starter
- Dec. 31, 2021 (Part 5) My neighbor leaves me a cast-iron pig door stop. Why?
- Jan. 13, 2022 (Part 6) The neighborhood kids want all the dead animals buried in my front yard.
- Feb. 7, 2022 (Part 7) Snow on the grave
- Feb. 16, 2022 (Part 8a) Does take shelter from the snow after walking past the grave of their fallen comrade
- Feb. 27, 2022 (Part 8b) No deer tracks near the grave
- Mar. 15, 2022 (Part 9) Frozen Dead Guy Days
- Mar. 26, 2022 (Part 10) Human compost
- Mar. 29, 2022 (Part 11) Befriending deer
- Apr. 13, 2022 (Part 12) Dead deer posts disappear
- May 2, 2022 (Part 13) Dead deer comments appear on other posts
- May 5, 2022 (Part 14) We apply homemade compost liquid to the buried doe, and mix the liquid with the dirt
- June 10, 2022 (Part 15) We compost the dead deer and find a surprise.
- July 13, 2022 (Part 16) I kill a fruit fly and wait for the people from Parks and Wildlife to get back to me.
- July 18, 2022 (Part 17)A deer protects my dog.
- July 22, 2022 (Part 18) Cataract surgery and flies on a deer carcass.
- July 23, 2022 (Part 19) The return of the doe. We're all waiting for the people from Parks and Wildlife to get back to us.
- Aug 6, 2022 (Part 20) The grave remains.
- Aug 8, 2022 (Part 21) Another deer memory.
- Apr 25, 2023 (Part 22) The dead deer rises.
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The Dead Deer
An ongoing true story of how things happen
by Sandy Reay
Parts 17 - 21 added March 31, 2023
Do you have any stories about your wild animals (or strange neighbors) that you'd like to share?
Please contact Sandy
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Dec. 7, 2021 (Part 1)
My neighbor who lives up the hill led me down to a spot in my front yard that I can't see from my window. “A dead doe was lying on the side of the road. Two bears dragged it across the road into your yard and ate two legs. When it got cold enough for the bears to hibernate, I buried it in your yard, made a cross from twigs at her head, and planted a reed from the creek at the other end.”
“Did you call the county to come pick it up?”
“It was there for a few days. I called the county. They told me it would take three weeks before they'd get to it.”
I should be angry at him for burying the deer on my property, but I'm not. He's a nice guy, just new to living with wildlife. I've lived here for twenty-two years and I've never had to deal with a dead deer. I found a dead rabbit in the trees once, but nothing larger. I felt bad for the deer. And, I was about to have a new experience. Usually, I like new experiences.
Certain what he did is against the Home Owners Association (HOA) covenants, I called my buddy at the HOA and described my predicament, picturing him laughing as he listened to my message.
The next time I went out, I took a picture of the grave from the road, posted about it on Facebook, and wrote about it in my journal.
I wish I had taken screen shots.
My buddy at the HOA didn't call me back.
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Dec. 22, 2021 (Part 2)
I had trouble retrieving my old posts from Facebook. Apparently, "dead" and "death" are words that bother them because: suicide. (To quote Dave Barry, "I am not making this up.")
So I used a closer photo of the deer's grave and recreated my conversation with the folks at my HOA.
In March, 2023, I accidentally figured out how to retrieve old posts: I used the Facebook search function and key words to bring up the original post.
I was surprised to find that I'd used a writing meme as the image and none of the comments had to do with my visit to the HOA.
My memory is not identical to my post. This is why memoir is not the same as non-fiction. I liked the story as I remembered it. You can decide if it's better or worse than the original post.
I dropped off my HOA dues. My buddy was there.
“Did you get my message about the dead deer?”
“Yes.”
“Did you laugh?” My priorities might need an adjustment.
“Yes. I've just been busy. And, it's cold out. I'll write you a waiver for having an animal buried on your property.”
“As soon as the weather gets warm, every coyote, dog, and bear in the neighborhood will be in my front yard, trying to eat the bloated doe.”
“That's a problem.”
We discussed solutions, agreed, and found the assistant head of the HOA. She did not laugh. “I'm not sure that burying the deer on the property is a covenant violation.”
Not what I was expecting. “I know I'm not allowed to bury a pet on my property, but the deer wasn't a pet, and I didn't bury it.”
She frowned. “If he hadn't buried it, Security would have spotted it and called the county to pick it up. It doesn't take three weeks. Who did he call?”
“I don't know.”
“You can't dig it up and put it on the side of the road now, because it will be covered in dirt. They'll be suspicious about how it died."
My buddy laughed. “Tell 'em our solution.”
I grinned. “I'm going to buy a shitload of composting stuff, pour it on the deer grave, and put big rocks on it.”
She rolled her eyes.
My buddy said, “I'm going to write up a waiver for her to compost the deer.”
Composting is against the covenants, too. |
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Dec. 23, 2021 (Part 3)
Best handyman ever and I went to the Big Box lumber/hardware/whatever store to look for compost starter. They told us to come back in the Spring. We looked for lime. Apparently that's seasonal, but concrete with lime is not. I don't think concrete is the answer.
So, I went to Google, the answer to everything. While I found compost starters online, I also found a recipe for compost starter and made a shopping list:
I already had a 5 gallon bucket and warm water. Piece of cake.
This close to Christmas, my friends were NOT interested in compost starters. Or recipes that include ammonia. Go figure. Maybe it was the lack of a photo with bright colors to grab their attention.
Or, Facebook took it down because "dead." |
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Dec. 29, 2021 (Part 4a)
Posting a photo of the grave and a red wagon with beer, cola, and ammonia did the trick. Maybe waiting a week for post-holiday boredom did the trick. Or, I'm suddenly a celebrity.
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Dec. 29, 2021 (Part 4b)
I went shopping and loaded my all-purpose little red wagon to bring in the ingredients* for the compost starter.
*What's the difference between materials and ingredients? If you buy them at a grocery store, they're ingredients, regardless of their use.
I took a photo of the wagon and texted it to Best Handyman Ever. I was on a roll, with bad original song lyrics and destroying (composting?) far-better song lyrics. |
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Dec. 31, 2021 (Part 5)
It's not the head of a dead horse (or deer), and it wasn't left in my bed. Just a small iron door stop.
I collect iron door stops. I can't get much to grow in the front garden, but the bright primary colors of the doorstops make up for the lack of flowers.
This is a small beige and dark green doorstop. I know they meant well, and it might have been an apology gesture. Or a warning about dead pigs.
I choose to believe it was a "I found this in an antique mall and knew you'd love it" gift.
That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. |
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Jan. 13, 2022 (Part 6)
We got Winter in January. Now I know why compost starter is seasonal. I have to wait until it stops freezing at night (and in the daytime, too).
In Colorado, that might take until late June.
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Feb. 7, 2022 (Part 7)
Winter happened. But I liked the shot from my car, so I posted it.
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Feb. 16, 2022 (Part 8a)
I like to see the deer in my yard. The storm was a good opportunity to take pictures from the bedroom window, across the garage roof.
It was a good opportunity for a friend to remind me of the buried deer.
While I watched the does walk near the grave, I can't see the grave from my bedroom window. |
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Feb. 27, 2022 (Part 8b)
The storm lasted a while, but the sun came out, so I did too. On my way home from shopping, I stopped in the street to take a picture of the grave with snow, but no hoof prints. |
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Mar. 15, 2022 (Part 9)
My friend Stacy sent me a link to a Wikipedia article about Frozen Dead Guy Days in Nederland, a mountain town above Boulder.
Of course I sent an email to my buddy in the HOA. I used to have a shed on my property, but it fell apart. I could build another shed. Just not where my neighbor had buried the dead deer.
I wonder why he doesn't answer my emails any more?

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Mar. 26, 2022 (Part 10)
It had to be Colorado, right? Don't other states have people coming up with cryogenics and composting for human remains.
And on Facebook, any post is fair game for a dead deer reference. |
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Mar. 29, 2022 (Part 11)
Any post with deer is fair game.
But it's starting to feel like Spring.
And the new does (last years fawns) think my smooth (short-haired) Collie is a fawn that lives with me. Years ago, Leo would touch noses with the deer over the backyard fence, but one night, a doe jumped into the yard with us.
I got a great video of her on the grass and dirt hill and Leo pacing on the patio waiting for me to open the back door so he could escape into the house.
When I walked back toward Leo and the back door, the doe charged me. She only took a few steps. As soon as I stopped, she stopped charging, but she pawed the ground.
I talked to her, a nice calm voice, and assured her that she was a good girl, a pretty girl, and I wasn't going to hurt the little (65-pound) fawn. When she backed off, I eased over to the back door, and Leo and I escaped.
Sometimes I wonder what that doe thought about the odd-smelling fawn who lived in a house with a human. |
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Apr. 13, 2022 (Part 12)
My posts about the dead deer disappeared from my page on Facebook. |
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May 2, 2022 (Part 13)
My posts about the dead deer disappear, but that doesn't stop the comments.


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May 5, 2022 (Part 14)
Best Handyman Ever and I prep the area over and around the grave of the dead deer. We need to wait until the temperature stays above freezing at night. No sign of carnivores digging up the former deer.


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June 10, 2022 (Part 15)
The grave was too small for a doe. When Best Handyman Ever and I dug up the ground for the compost, this is what we found. Nothing in my weird neighbor's story can account for this.


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July 13, 2022 (Part 16)
I learn to kill fruit flies on my computer screen while I wait for Parks and Wildlife people to get back to me.

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July 13, 2022 (Part 17)
I'm still waiting for Parks and Wildlife to get back to me.
Facebook brought up a memory: sunset, my retired show-dog Leo, a smooth (short-haired) collie and his girlfriend, a young childless doe.
She joined us in the back yard. I walked away to get photos from a different angle. When I walked back toward Leo, she decided to protect him. From me. She charged toward me and pawed the ground.
I stopped and talked to her in a soothing tone. She calmed down, and I made it to the back door. Leo squeezed into the house first. He doesn't touch noses with deer anymore. He barks at them.
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July 22, 2022 (Part 18)
I had cataract surgery yesterday, and I'm still waiting for Parks and Wildlife to get back to me. |
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July 23, 2022 (Part 19)
Another Facebook memory. I was wrong about Leo barking at the doe to keep her away. We're all waiting for Parks and Wildlife to get back to us. |
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August 6, 2022 (Part 20)
Parks and Wildlife are MIA, but the grave remains, and the photo shows the remains of the grave.
No need to compost. Anybody need ammonia, cheap beer, and generic coke?
At least I got a new lawn-mowing service. |
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Aug 8, 2022 (Part 21)
Another deer memory. And the saga ends, not with a whimper, but a deer parade.

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Apr 24, 2023 (Part 22)
The fawns have outgrown their spots but not their winter coats. The does are sleek. Three does and their fawns were grazing in my neighbor's yard when I got home. I stopped the car and grabbed my phone. They eyed me for a moment then grazed again. I grabbed my phone and shot through my (dirty) window.
I should not have posted it on Facebook. Some of my friends have a long memory.

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