.jpg)
I had been tracking her for months, carefully logging every movement, every change in her behavior. She was more than just another deer in the woods—she was part of a wildlife research project, fitted with a GPS collar and tagged for study. But to the homeowners’ association, she was just another animal to shoot for their twisted idea of sport.
It started with a simple complaint. Some of the residents in the neighborhood had been grumbling about deer wandering onto their properties, chewing on their ornamental plants, leaving tracks in their perfectly manicured lawns. The HOA, ever eager to impose its iron-fisted rule, decided that something needed to be done.
I had no idea they were planning to take matters into their own hands.
One crisp autumn morning, I checked the GPS data and saw something strange. My deer—one I had nicknamed Willow—had stopped moving. Not just paused for a rest, but completely still. I knew that wasn't normal. With a sinking feeling, I grabbed my gear and set out to find her.
What I found turned my stomach.
There she was, lying motionless in a clearing near the edge of the neighborhood, her lifeless body sprawled across the cold earth. The bright orange research collar was still around her neck, unmistakable. Someone had shot her. Someone who either didn’t care—or didn’t bother to notice—the clear markings that identified her as a protected research animal.
It didn’t take long to find out who was responsible. A group of HOA board members had taken it upon themselves to "deal with the deer problem." They had hired a local hunter, someone with more eagerness than sense, and given the green light for a culling.
When I confronted them, their reaction was infuriating.
“Oh, we didn’t realize it was one of your deer,” one of them said with a shrug. Another laughed, muttering something about how there were too many deer anyway.
They had done it for fun. For convenience. For the sake of their precious lawns.
I reported the incident immediately. The research project had legal protections in place, and killing a tagged animal without authorization wasn’t just unethical—it was a potential violation of wildlife laws. But the damage had already been done. Willow was gone, another casualty of human arrogance and recklessness.
The HOA members faced consequences, though not nearly enough in my opinion. Fines, legal warnings, and a public outcry from both the research community and local conservationists. But none of it could bring her back.
This wasn’t just about one deer. It was about the thoughtless way people treat wildlife, about the entitled belief that nature is something to be controlled and destroyed at will. And worst of all, it was about the kind of people who see a living creature not as something to be respected, but as an inconvenience to be eliminated.