by William Skink
The deer made absolutely no effort to move from the path of my motorized vehicle. It just stood there in the middle of the street, staring. I finally had to lay on the horn to get the dumb animal to mobilize its meat sticks to the sidewalk.
I rolled up to the cul-de-sac where my parents live as the deer ambled on to their relatively new neighbor’s yard, the neighbors from California. When I tell my mom about the deer, she tells me she suspects the new neighbors are feeding them.
The next time I see mom, she has confirmation. She herself has witnessed the deliberate tossing of apples into the yard. For the deer.
The REAL question is what is feeding the Californians?