When Rescue Isn’t Enough: Our Unforgettable Encounter with "Bambi"

This past Sunday, our family set out on a little adventure to visit a waterfall in Faribault. The waterfall was our destination, but my husband chose a different hiking route, wanting to explore a bit more. As we explored various trails, something unusual caught his eye in a ditch—it was a baby deer, a little Bambi, lying motionless.

Curious and concerned, he approached it and gently touched it. To our surprise, the little deer was still alive. Without hesitation, my husband picked him up and placed him on more solid ground covered with grass. The poor thing tried to stand but immediately collapsed. It was clear that Bambi was injured.

Excited about Bambi, and little one eagerly counted the train cars that was passing near, one by one.

While my husband and I urgently searched online for animal rescue contacts and called every number we could find, our kids were mesmerized. They gently petted the little deer and excitedly begged if we could keep him as a pet. I couldn’t help but smile at their innocence, even while my own imagination ran wild with possible outcomes.

Unfortunately, it was Sunday, every rescue clinic we found was closed. In desperation, we called 911. They said an officer would be dispatched to check on the situation. Since we were deep on the trails, my husband volunteered to carry the fawn up to the park entrance to make it easier for the police to find us.

As we made our way back, the kids were thrilled, proud to be part of Bambi’s rescue mission. I, too, was overwhelmed. Seeing a real Bambi up close had always been a dream of mine, and now it was real, here it was, in my husband’s arms. I didn’t dare touch him—perhaps out of respect, or maybe fear—but just seeing it felt magical.

While we were climbing the hill, one of my kids said, “Mom, we can tell you’re super excited—you can’t hide it!” I guess you really can’t hide your emotions. And it was true. I get the same feeling when I meet a new client who needs help with their bookkeeping. It's like I’m on a mission to rescue numbers that are trapped in the wrong accounts and untangle them. Saving a business’s books can feel just as urgent and meaningful.

When we reached the car, I received a call from the police officer. He calmly advised, “You need to let it go.”

"Let it go?! Are you serious?" I thought, stunned those words hit me hard. My heart sank. In an instant, all my excitement drained. I had to break the news to my husband—that all his effort, carrying Bambi through the park, had been in vain. No one was coming to help, no one. He gently set Bambi back down on the grass. Bambi tried to stand but fell again.

The kids, of course, asked again if we could keep him. We even called regular vet clinics, hoping someone—anyone—might take him in, just for the night. But no one could help with a wild deer. So, with heavy hearts, we had to walk away. We left him there, lying quietly in the grass, hoping maybe his mama would come, or that someone else would be able to help.

Waterfall

Since we were close, we decided to visit the waterfall after all. But even there, disappointment greeted us. What we found was just a tiny trickle of water, barely cascading over the rocks. The kids still found joy, climbing rocks and playing near the water.

Then we saw a police car drive by. A glimmer of hope returned—maybe they’d find Bambi and help. We went back to check… but he was still there. Alone. Unhelped. Nothing had changed.

We drove home that evening with a cloud of helplessness hanging over us. We didn’t give up, but we had to accept that there was nothing more we could do. Everyone was closed. It was one of those moments where we felt the helplessness of being human. Sometimes, the hardest thing to do is exactly what the officer said: let it go. And hope for the best.

I don’t know what happened to our Bambi. But this story reminded me of something I’ve been learning over the past six years as I work with small businesses. Often, companies reach out for help—whether it's for QuickBooks support, work to be done, a bit of guidance, or just a second opinion. But sometimes, despite their need and the help being right there, they choose not to take it.

And just like with Bambi, it’s hard to walk away. That feeling—the one of knowing you could help. But sometimes, you have to. Not every rescue happens. Not every call for help leads to action.

Thankfully, some clients do come back. And when they do, we pick up where we left off. The mission to rescue the numbers begins again.

This post is based on my personal ideas and experiences. I use ChatGPT to help with wording and structure.