No matter how great the evidence, it is still hard to think of them as a menace.

I see one or more almost every day, sometimes dozens if the drive is long enough and the sun is going down. I have come across them while walking the dog, even when strolling the neighbourhood to check out the Christmas lights.

They are white-tailed deer, the gentlest and most graceful of all the wild creatures in this part of the country.

And, we are now being told, one of the most dangerous.

The "deer-as-menace" warning was sounded in Eastern Ontario this week after the discovery of the body of a man who had been missing since the previous Wednesday. Daniel van Leeuwen Boomkamp, 71, vanished near his rural home and the mystery was solved only when his vehicle was found to have plowed off the road and out of sight behind a stand of trees.

A white-tailed deer had crashed through the windshield, probably killing the retired businessman instantly.

It was, of course, a tragic accident. It was also somewhat astonishing, as the vehicle involved was an SUV, the traffic equivalent of a small tank.

The accident has highlighted a growing concern in this part of the country, one that has been evident in other parts of North America for some years: the dangers in driving around swelling deer herds.

There are, apparently, two vehicle-deer collisions a day in Ottawa and surrounding Lanark County, a 40-per-cent rise since 1998. We number among that statistic, a small deer having bolted in front of our little Escort and then, when the car had come to a stop, having suddenly decided to leap over the hood and race for the opposite woods.

The deer made it without any damage; the car cost $1,200 to fix.

The Ministry of Natural Resources has doubled the number of hunting permits in one attempt to thin out the deer population. The City of Ottawa has installed four kilometres of "light fence" -- strategically placed reflectors that light up the shoulders of rural roads -- and may extend the program if it appears to work.

Pennsylvania and New York, two states that have long experienced the exploding deer populations now seen in parts of Canada, have spent millions on higher and better fencing.

At one point, the animal carnage was so great along the Trans-Canada Highway heading into Banff that special overpasses and underpasses were constructed and dedicated to game travel.

It is unlikely that anyone in this country has travelled through more deer country than Stan Darling, the Progressive Conservative Member of Parliament for Parry Sound-Muskoka between 1972 and 1993.

Now 91 and "voluntarily retired" in Burk's Falls, Mr. Darling figures that over those 21 years he would make the 800-kilometre round trip between Ottawa and his riding an average of once a week, 40,000 to 50,000 kilometres a year, possibly a million kilometres over his long political career.

A million kilometres through deer country, up the Ottawa Valley, through isolated Algonquin Park and on into the district of Muskoka and Parry Sound.

"Never hit one," he says. "I guess I had six or seven close calls, though. I was lucky. The Lord was looking after me."

He did, however, once hit a moose in an accident that has become part of Valley folklore. Two days after buying a brand new Cadillac -- "Beautiful car, white with gold trim" -- Mr. Darling rounded a corner near Algonquin Park and found himself heading straight for a small cow moose that had slipped and sprawled on the wet pavement. There was nothing he could do.

"I didn't really 'hit' her at all," he says. "Went up right on top. Killed it, though, ripped stem to stern. You never smelled such a stink."

The nearest garage tried to talk the politician into getting his car towed back to Ottawa for proper cleaning, but Mr. Darling refused -- he had important constituency work to do.

Instead, he purchased a package of car air fresheners from the garage and drove the rest of the way with one hand on the wheel and the other holding apple-scented fresheners in each nostril.

"Lucky like the dickens," he says. "I still had $6,000 damage to the car -- but it could have been much worse."

As for the deer, the secret to avoiding them is simple: "Keep your eyes on the road -- and be ready for anything."

Mr. Darling no longer drives, so it's no longer a concern.

"My eyesight's not so good anymore," he says. "But at 91 what the hell can you expect? The important thing is to be on the right side of the grass."

Deer and moose, of course, might say the right side of the road. For we are, if anything, each other's menace.
rmacgregor@globeandmail.ca