“If it were up to you, all the deer would be living in our garage,” my dad said to me.
I squinted at him sideways and grinned. He knew me well.
My dad was tracking the deer tags from local hunters. I was looking at the animals in the back of pickup trucks.
We lived in an area where herds of deer were less than a mile from our town. I once counted 150 deer studying me from a corn field.
Driving was a l…