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Read it: The doe's face smashed against the driver's side window and its body sheared off the mirror. There was no blood.

Pam Fix knelt by the doe, which at about 140 pounds weighed more than she did. Pam, a 60-year-old blond with a raspy voice, dragged the doe to a soft spot in a ditch by the side of the road. There she waited in the dark with the doe for help to arrive.

"I'm sorry, baby," she said. "I'm so sorry."

She held the doe's neck and rubbed her side, trying to calm her so she wouldn't thrash any more. The doe's back was broken, her hind legs paralyzed. Her front legs made a half circle in the dirt from kicking. Her eyes were open wide, and frothy saliva streaked down her cheek. Pam kept saying soft things to her and caressing her. The doe's teats were swollen. She recently had fawns, which were hopefully now grown up enough to take care of themselves.