We live in the forest

Our apartment is part of a small development along a road that goes through Duke Forest, part of several large tracts of wooded land that Duke owns and maintains. In this forest several trails meander for miles and miles - only the Eno River trails offer more scenic treks. One of the things that I've noticed here, besides how peaceful and relaxing it is, is that many deer freely and wantonly roam among the trees. It is not unusual to see five or six deer go loping off a nearby yard when I'm driving to work in the morning. The other day one walked right by me as I was carrying groceries out of the car and around back to our place.
When I was growing up in the country, living east of Atlanta, deer were rare. In fact, years later I was told by a forestry grad student that the deer had been hunted out of Georgia by the 1940s or so and that the deer we see today were descendants of deer transported from Minnesota. I don't know if this holds for North Carolina, but it gave me pause about Georgia.
An argument could be made that deer are more noticeable now because of increased development: that they've been chased from their habitat and now live among us in the suburbs. But Duke Forest is witness to how recently forest growth has been allowed back into the south: most of its trees are less than 60 years old - and I could say that about several tracts of forest I grew up around. Most of the forest land we see in the south today was farm land at the turn of the century. Certainly the habitat is shrinking, but deer have never had that much habitat. There are simply more - I haven't checked an animal census, but I feel that that is true. I remember a 60 Minutes report several years ago about a Long Island community where deer were walking around in people's yards: they couldn't hunt them out. The deer had discovered that they could take refuge in populated areas.
These deer today are certainly less skittish seeming than the ones I grew up witnessing and hearing about. I remember in my youth hearing people talking about hunting season: how they would take their guns and go sit with their father or a friend in a pine tree on a couple of planks, waiting for the deer to appear so they could kill it. The preparations for the hunt were meticulous and needed the perfect weather conditions and conditions of attitude to be successful. First, it needed to be dark and cold, preferably foggy with a threat of rain, with at least a continuous misting. Second, a meal of cheese and sausage should be hastily prepared, along with a thermos of black coffee. Once stocked with supplies the hunters head off for a stretch of forest, making sure to walk through damp, waist high grass, tripping several times in the dark. Once at the stand, the ascent begins, followed by the long wait. When the hapless animal ventures into view, the hunter, most likely a 12 year old boy, must blast away, downing the graceful creature. If only wounded the beautiful horned ungulate might scamper away and the hunters will be forced to leave their perch and stumble after it.
Such tales as this, that I heard frequently enough in my youth, witnessing the photos and mounted heads adorning the dens of my classmates (proof of their prowess at negotiating the threat of scarcity in the world and providing meat for the family), are themselves scarce now a days; it is no wonder why: as I described above the deer are nearly domesticated, inured to dwelling among humans where they eat the tomatoes and beans we set out for them in our gardens. It takes no more now than for the hunter to grab a skillet and walk up to the deer, maintaining a friendly demeanor, whacking it on the head, and since a skillet was brought along, frying it right there.
What about dressing the deer. Again, today this operation is simplified from the task requiring knives and blood ceremonies that I was entertained by as a child. Recently I dressed a deer as it walked out of the woods and into our parking lot. I happened to have some boxes I was taking to GoodWill in the trunk of my car, and since the deer was right there, I managed to get a sports coat and khakis on it. We drove around for the better part of the afternoon, parting company towards early evening, as he had a stag function to attend.