The Toyota pickup rolled down empty U.S. 2. The locals were either at home watching TV or at a convenient watering hole, usually called “Insert Name Here showing possession” Northwoods Tavern. One of the benefits of this wild locale was the lack of people, so traveling on an empty road was a kick.

As Matt reached for the heater switch a stout white-tailed deer leapt in front of the truck. He hit the brakes and gripped the steering wheel. Tires shrieked and the sick smell of burning rubber stung his nose. The unlucky deer let out a sheep-like cry as the driver’s-side hood skimmed its left rump. The deer’s eyes widened to the size of tea cups as it sprinted up the embankment to the spruce trees. The truck screeched to a stop, rubber smoke wafting in front of the headlights. The chattering four-cylinder and radio penetrated the sudden stillness.

Matt rolled his window down. The deer was nowhere to be found. He turned the music down, grabbed the heavy-duty flashlight from under the seat, and inspected the truck’s grille. No visible damage, no blood and no deer hair. For good measure he walked over to the embankment, shining the flashlight into the ditch, working a good fifty yards in front of and behind the truck. If he found the deer he’d ease it out of this world one way or another. He hated people who ran over animals without looking back to see if they were still suffering. Running over an animal didn’t mean it was dead, not at all. A year ago in Glacier National Park (on a trip with Stacey) he’d seen a red squirrel run over by a car doing forty in a twenty-five miles per hour zone. Only the back legs of the red squirrel were run over. The squirrel had chirped and cried, valiantly pulling itself a few feet before collapsing in a heap on the road, still alive. Another red squirrel had scurried onto the pavement and tried to pull the crippled squirrel off the road. He remembered watching in horror as the scene unfolded, the desperate chittering of the healthy red squirrel, and the terrible screams of the injured one. When the healthy red squirrel had given up, he’d returned to his vehicle and proceeded to drive over the injured squirrel, ending its life before any more suffering could occur.