Improbably sad tale of a stricken deer on the inner wall

Carol Ann Pala and Peter McLean have a home in Cape Shores in Lewes. That location puts them a short walk or bike ride from bay and ocean beaches, and close to the trails of Cape Henlopen State Park. They and their children love nature, wildlife and the outdoors. It suits their style of life.

Carol Ann sells real estate up and down Delaware. She understands location, location, location. Peter teaches life science at St. Andrew's School in Middletown. Like many who live here, they rent out their home for part of the year, and take full advantage of their unique location at other times.

They see nature in all its beauty, at the micro level and at the macro level, from bees on prickly pear blossoms to expansive sunsets. At other times they see nature's indifference - an indifference that can occasionally feel cruel and heartless.

One recent late-spring day, conditions were good for kayaking in the mouth of Delaware Bay. Winds not crazy, storms not threatening, and they had some time.

They launched from the bay beach at Cape Shores, made their way past the fishing pier and headed for the Delaware Breakwater. Also known as the inner wall, the Delaware Breakwater was one of the first public works projects ever undertaken by the United States as a government. President John Quincy Adams authorized its construction to provide refuge for vessels making their way in and out of Delaware Bay, to and from Philadelphia's busy wharves.

The project started in 1828 but wasn't complete until after the Civil War, in 1869.

Carol Ann and Peter explore that impressive stone structure from time to time, never knowing what they will find or see. On this occasion Peter wanted to take a look at nesting ospreys. He focused on them for his master's degree. For his Ph.D., he turned his focus to black bears, native to where he grew up in Charlottesville near the mountains of Shenandoah.

He didn't expect to find any black bears on the inner wall, but neither did he nor Carol Ann expect to see a deer out there.

They climbed out of their kayaks and clambered up on the car-sized stones placed almost two centuries ago.

"Peter had his eye on an osprey nest built on the stones," said Carol Ann, "but what looked like an unusually shaped piece of driftwood caught our attention. It had pieces that almost looked like ears. The closer we came, the more we realized that what we saw in the distance as driftwood actually was a deer. At first we thought it was dead.

"But then we saw it move on an osprey nest of sticks where it was lying."

The deer saw them, pushed itself up and moved away. They saw it was injured, and were also able to see that its face and head were covered with ticks. The deer was in bad shape. Then they saw it disappear between the rocks.

Treacherous and forbidding

Those who have been on the inner and outer walls know they are forbidding places. Sailors have died there in storms. Big waves threaten with their gathered forces. The surging power is more than enough to lift those stones of many tons and drop them back into their angles of repose. Man and beast are brittle sticks against that power.

The wet grasses growing there are slick and treacherous to footing. Divers who spearfish take extra caution to stay safe, and fishermen who toggle into the rocks as they set up for tautog work slowly and cautiously when they go to retrieve their lines.

Carol Ann and Peter saw the deer's head just above the edge of some of the stones and they wondered: Had the deer gone into the ocean from the park for relief from ticks, flies and heat and then been swept out to sea, eventually swimming its way on an incoming tide toward the breakwater?

They just didn't know. But they did know it was badly injured, was in an impossible situation, and wouldn't likely make its way back.

"We didn't know what to do. But we wanted to do something," said Carol Ann. "It needed to be put out of its misery."

She took out her phone and tapped into a Lewes network she uses to share local thoughts and observations. After an hour, she finally connected with two state wildlife and enforcement officers.

"They said they weren't sure what they could do, but they would try."

Carol Ann and Peter had to leave the situation, but marked the location of the deer. They found a long piece of driftwood, stuck it upright in the rocks nearby, and flagged it with a shirt Carol Ann had brought along.

Two hours later the officers - Troy Trimmer and Danny Cropper - came by their home and dropped off the shirt. They didn't need to go into details. The deer had been relieved of its suffering and was left to nature to reclaim, in its efficient and dispassionate fashion.

"We were grateful the men had taken the effort to stop everything they were doing that day, get a boat, and make their way to the breakwater to answer our concerns," said Carol Ann.

Peter said the men told Carol Ann the flag they left guided them to where the deer had gone down, but only briefly. "Troy related that when he got onto the rock wall, at that very moment, the pole fell..."