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them loose into the wild. He'd give us the medicine and the hypodermics, let us know how much medicine to give the animal, and allow us to give the treatment. We still had the need to call the vet several times before the fawn was old enough to fend for itself.

As hard as it is, try to refrain from handing the deer too much, and making it very used to human beings, or becoming too emotionally attached. It is still a wild animal and deserves to live in the wild.

Your goal should be to raise it until it is old enough to fend for itself, and then turn it loose in an appropriate setting. I have found it nearly impossible not to become attached to a fawn that I've raised, but keeping a fawn instead of turning it loose is akin to putting a man in an 8 by 10 cell and expecting him to thrive.

Big John, as we named our fawn (from the tune, Big Bad John'), would follow us everywhere, leaving deer droppings everywhere he went.

Rest assured, though, that if the mother was honestly not able to care for the fawn, you have done a very good thing, to raise it to the point that it can join others of it's kind out in the wild.

Turning a deer loose is one of the hardest things to do when you've spent so much time and effort keeping them alive. We knew that it would be unfair to do otherwise though. So on a warm summer day, after he was a little more than a year old and was just beginning to develop horns, we took Big John 50 miles and well into a wildlife refuge, and set him free.

I'm a deer hunter, but I couldn't bear with the thought of turning him loose where he'd end up on someone's dinner table.

We were in sight of a small herd of does, and Big John was very aware of them. Still, he walked around a little, smelling the air, then came up to us and nuzzled our hands before giving us a few head butts. That was his way of showing affection. (Did I mention he was getting horns? It was becoming painful when he decided to be affectionate, though we really didn't mind.)

Then Big John bounced off, in the characteristic effortless bounding of deer, to join the herd. Tears in our eyes, we could only stand and watch. The herd looked him over cautiously, then the biggest doe walked up to him and gave him a lick on the forehead.

That was all it took. When she turned and walked into the brush casually, the entire herd, including Big John, followed. He'd found his real home. I still get tears in my eyes when I think of that moment, and I'm very thankful he didn't stop to look back at us. He did tell us goodbye though, before he joined the herd.

I'll never know what ever became of Big John. He probably isn't alive today because of the time that has gone by. But about five or six years after we turned him loose, we went for a drive and a picnic, not all that far from where we'd freed him. We were still putting down the blanket and getting out our food when the most beautiful, healthy and perfect 4-point buck you can imagine stepped out of the tree line, not 50 yards away. It acted as if it was going to come to us, then hesitated, stood there looking at us for several minutes, then turned and gracefully walked back into the brush.

To this day, I like to think it was Big John and that he was just letting us know that he was alive and well, and also welcoming us to his forest as we'd once so long ago welcomed him into our home and our hearts.

Learn more about this author, Rex Trulove.
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