All members of the deer family, can be deadly. During rutting season, the males can be particularly dangerous and will often attack anything that moves.
Many years ago, my daughter and I had a ranch up in the mountains of Oregon. We would walk through the forest almost daily, with all our dogs. The deer herds there came to pretty much ignore us. But I loved to see them, so would put salt licks out for them. One afternoon, one of my Great Danes was watching something in the grass, while we were on our walk. All I could see were two ears. He was quite a bit ahead of us so I called for him to 'leave it'. I thought it was probably a rabbit. Turned out to be a newborn white tailed deer. I knew the herd had moved on many hours before, well into the valley, so it was odd that he was left. Picking him up it was obvious he had contracted tendons and could not unfold his forelegs. His mother had obviously left him and moved on with the herd. So of course, we took him home and named him Bambi. We fed him goat milk every two hours and massaged his legs. He was so tiny, that he slept between the pillows in my bed. We forced him to take our walks through the forest and he would complain bitterly, but in the end his legs straightened perfectly and he grew into a lovely big boy.
Growing up with my Great Danes, he lived in the house and behaved much like the dogs. And yes, he was still sleeping in my bed! He loved to watch TV and would lie on the sofa and get very excited to see animals running or car chases. He always accompanied us on our walks and never wandered off. He begged for cookies in the kitchen and was the perfect house pet. My daughter was very young at the time and he loved her little friends who came to visit. He seldom saw adults however, except me at the house. He did ride into town with us once a week, but stayed in the back of the jeep while I did my shopping. One afternoon, an elderly gentleman was delivering a carpet to me, up on the mountain. We were standing in the kitchen with the door open. He asked if I was the lady with the deer and if he could see him. I called Bambi in from where he was nibbling hay with my horses. Bam came racing into the kitchen as usual, but upon seeing the poor fellow, attacked him wickedly with his front feet. I was able to step in before the man was hurt, but I realised then, just how dangerous these animals can be. Bam knew the fellow didn't belong and maybe thought I was in trouble. He really did I think, consider me his mother.
Wild animals are just that. Their genetic instincts are never far from the surface, however much they have been domesticated. As an adult, Bam actually would go off in the spring, I presume to see the ladies, but he'd always come back and make his peculiar baby sounds to me. I kept him in during hunting season however. I knew he could never be trusted with strangers again and made sure visitors were safe. He was a big responsibility.
When I left Oregon, I could not take Bam with me. He liked one particular lady who lived deep in the forest in Oregon. He knew her (and her cookies) very well, so I placed him with her. I knew he'd live in the house and sleep in her bed, as he had done with us, all his life. Years later, she told me he left one spring but never returned. I suspect there are many of his descendants, running through the forests of Oregon.
Would I do it again? Probably not. As much as I loved that boy, and I know he loved us, as an adult he was like owning a cocked gun.
Lizzie
