The phone rang 25 minutes after four.

This is either family calling with best wishes for the Christmas Eve...

Or the game warden calling about the buck running around town with Christmas lights on his antlers (yes, another one).

The second was most likely, since she called about him a couple hours ago.

But it was neither of the above. A woman from town. A deer has laid down in the yard across the street, and hasn't gotten up.

Ooookay. Today is supposed to be a holiday, but hey, somebody's gotta do it. Throw on the uniform, say goodbye to the wife, and off I go.

Why do these things always happen at dusk, so you end up doing everything in the dark, by headlights?

I get to the intersection, half hoping this will be a buck with Christmas lights on his head.

But it's not. Just a fawn with a broken leg, either a vehicle hit or fence injury. It found a place to lay down out of wind.

And died.

Merry Christmas, Rudolph.