I caught my breath when I saw those tall tines poking through the grass, and then, as I pried his body from the frozen ground, I felt a deep sadness. I couldn't tell what killed The Stranger, but whatever the cause, he lived with the injury for a long time. His once-beefy frame was gaunt; his spine stuck up against his hide like a ridge, his ribs visible beneath his winter coat. One front leg appeared broken, so my guess is that he was hit by a vehicle as he chased a doe during peak rut. I'm hoping he bred her, and a lot of her kind.