The deers, famously self-assured creatures, didn’t budge. They were awake now, munching happily on some squirrels they’d killed for food, the carnivores. But now they were the squirrels in this equation, which felt somehow ironic. I reached for that old liquid courage — a dented flask full of industrial-strength Jeff Daniels. Then I lined up those deers, took a breath, and pushed the trigger. There was no kickback.