Speaking of bears and not turning away, witness a biologist from the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission (FWC) recently tranquilizing a 375-pound bear and then saving it from drowning.

 It seems the bruin was hanging around a neighborhood in Alligator Point on the Gulf coast of Florida and the intent centered on shooting it with a sleep-inducing dart before relocating the animal to the Ocala National Forest. So far, so good.

But the bear ran into the surf and started to drown as the medicine took effect. The biologist, Adam Warwick, decided to play lifeguard and, despite an ebbing resistance by the bear at first, finally dragged the furry thing to shore. A good Samaritan with a backhoe helped load ol' Sparky into bed of a truck. Warwick ended up with some cuts and bruises, but there's a bear out there who owes him a debt of gratitude.

I once did something similar if less heroic. While walking through the Loop Road region of Everglades National Park, I noted something brownish limping through the brush. I got as close as possible without risking consumption -- unlike Warwick, I keep a healthy distance from most four-legged beasts -- and a full-grown female deer looked at me with eyes like a distressed child. It's front right leg was obviously broken. The doe not only didn't bolt, it seemed to sense its doom without aid. I cautiously approached and the deer let me do so in an unthreatening manner. I held out my hand and she licked it like a pet puppy. Wow, what a connection. I gently wrapped a white cloth around its neck, left it where it lay, and high-tailed it to the tram road to my car.

In less than an hour, I was back in the woods with two game officers, and darn if she wasn't right where the GPS led us. They tranquilized her, carried the sleeping deer out of the woods on a stretcher, and I was citizen of the day around Loop Road.

Some months later, I was told the deer's leg healed and she was released in the same area found. And I must admit, it still makes me darn happy to know that doe is probably still prancing around the prairies, cypress strands and pine scrubs.

Of course, never approach an animal if you think it may be rabid or beyond help, but keep your heart open for those fleeting moments when a little bit of tenderness does some good.

I told this story to a cynical friend and rhetorically asked, "Big deal, what difference does one deer make?"