Yesterday was the first day of firearm deer hunting season in this part of Illinois (possibly for the whole state. I don't know.). It is also mating season for the deer. This combination of sexy hormones and un-sexy fear makes the deer go completely batshit crazy.
Just how batshit crazy do they go?
Well, one went so batshit crazy that it attempted to LEAP OVER MY HUSBAND'S CAR while he was driving 65 miles per hour. And missed.
The car caught the buck in the ribs, its head caved in the windshield (but did not go through), its hind end hit the driver's side window and shattered that entire thing, and rolled up over the roof.
Nick is fine. He has a lot of superficial cuts on his face, but he's fine. The car is less fine, but is getting taken care of (hello insurance! I love you!).
He called me just after 11:00am yesterday, while I was on my break at work and (oddly) in the middle of writing another blog post. An ambulance came out (really, he's fine -- it's just procedure) and took him to the closest hospital and I left work as soon as I found out where he was going.
Have any of you (my three readers) had to do something like this -- drive somewhere unfamiliar in a stressful situation? I had no idea where I was, but I was watching for those blue "H" signs that directed me to the hospital. I had no idea where I parked, or how I got in the door. My mind wasn't really on those unimportant details.
When I got there and saw him kind of bloody (superficial cuts to the head generally bleed more than you think possible -- think professional wrestling), I lost my cool for a moment and cried, but recovered because really, he was fine and he was hugging me and it was all okay. Then I helped him get the glass off his head and clothes, and kept wanting to hug him every 30 seconds. We waited a long time for the doctor (another, more urgent case was helicoptered in) and I knit on the only thing I had in my bag, the candy striped sock, to keep myself from flipping out (because even though I knew everything was okay, and he was okay, and I could see him in front of me being very visibly okay, I was still dealing with the adrenalin and what-could-have-happened. Fun!!).
Of course, for the life of me I couldn't remember how to make the pattern when I pulled out the sock. It just went completely out of my head. What was I going to do, not knit? I just knit plain around, because I think I forgot how to purl as well.
Everything is okay. Nick is okay (two stitches, which I watched with much fascination and enthusiasm, for which I felt only slightly guilty), the car is being taken care of, and I have my husband (of three months) home with me and I can hug him whenever I want. So it's all okay.
And that, my friends, is why I hate the deer.