I grew up in Southwestern Pennsylvania where deer season is practically a religious experience. One morning when I was about 6 years old, I woke up and glanced out the window. Imagine my horror and dismay when I saw Bambi himself hanging from the top of my swingset.
My uncles had gone hunting the day before and brought back the deer one of them had shot and apparently you have to hang it so the blood drains or some such thing? So the dorks chose my swingset!
So that is my wildlife encounter and yes I am still in therapy for that one
