A while back — possibly last fall — I was strolling through the National Zoo near dusk, when I spotted a deer hanging around the Bird House. I asked a Zoo employee, “Is that one of yours?”

“No,” he told me, continuing to inform me that there were six deer who lived wild in the Zoo, which is located in DC’s Rock Creek Park (which is twice as large as New York’s Central Park, suck it, Yankees).

Well, apparently they’re down to five:

I’m not very sad about this at all, except in that it may have traumatized some younger onlookers. Hopefully most older children and adults who saw this recognize that deer are over sized rats who destroy, destroy, destroy, and that while yes, indeed, it is sad that suburban development has encroached on their territory to the degree that they are starving, the simple fact of the matter is that there are so many goddamn deer out there that the loss of one is really no loss at all, except perhaps to the lions, who were unable to have a nice warm meal (I also say this as an individual who has, utilizing his 1998 Jeep Wrangler, and then his 2000 Toyota Celica, killed, maimed, or contributed to the death of at least six deer, thereby earning from his friends the nickname: “Jeffy, The Deer Slayer.”).

So, yeah, fuck Bambi.

Big cats for the win.