Matt Whittaker， U.S. Air Force retired， was a mountain-<br >eer， a tall， blond， bearded man. He found the crippled<br >deer late in the morning of his second day on the aban-<br >doned logging road that ran from Morgan， Colorado， up<br >into the Big Saddle and the high mountains of the San<br >Juan Range. The road had become soggy and unpredict-<br >able from the early June thaw， and Whittaker， who drove<br >a green Ford pickup， had had to keep both axles engaged<br >for miles now and winch the truck out of many bogs and<br >soft sand gullies.<br > The deer was lying on its side just off the road in a<br >shadowed place which also held a crusty patch of snow.<br >Tire tracks， half filled with water， swerved violently to-<br >ward the animal， then backed away， going on up the road<br >to the place where it curved out of sight in the still thick<br >forest of second-growth conifers. Even before Whittaker<br >got out of the pickup and studied the tracks he saw that<br >the deer， its rear legs crushed， had been struck deliber-<br >ately and left here to die a long， unnatural death.<br >
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