All Creatures Great and Small

As you know, we as a family have a fairly generous supply of pets around the house: horses, dogs, cats. While our numbers exceed those of citydwellers (rather, most citydwellers - there are, of course, a few exceptions), they don't seem too extraordinary. But take into account those "pets" whom we have involuntarily "adopted", our numbers begin to skyrocket: the "mice" army in my wall; that fox who has been known to help himself to the lesser-intelligent of our cat collection; the birds that have trained Mom to keep the bird feeder filled (be it summer or a blizzard); the squirrels who seem to believe that aforementioned bird feeder is actually for them; the hayfed deer that seem to disappear right around hunting season. We are host to a host of critters.
If I had to choose a favorite "pet", I think the deer would win out. They are so pretty (or irresistibly fluffy, depending on the age of the deer), and are wonderful to watch. If you are feeling quiet and contemplative, you can go sit outside and make friends. If you are feeling rather ornery, you can run outside and shout - which of course results in a satisfactory bounding from the deer. While the deer might not enjoy it so much, it can be rather fulfilling to the shouter. This reaction is fairly reliable. Or, at least, it used to be.
That was, until Spike.
Spike is the name I gave a young buck when he kept coming back to the house...suspiciously right about feeding time. We observed him sneaking into the paddock to eat the hay with Cowboy most noticably since Christmas (Skip wouldn't share hers at first....after all, she is the "lead mare".) The two boys have become so chummy that Spike will actually eat the hay out from underneath Cowboy's very nose. Cowboy doesn't seem to mind too much. At first, we found it absolutely hilarious. Maybe it was because Spike cautiously and cleverly worked his way into Cowboy's dinner. Maybe it was Cowboy's confused expression as he sized up the invader. Maybe it was the unlikely friendship blossoming between them. But whatever it was, the charm has officially worn off.
Perhpas it is the gall with which Spike now approaches Cowboy. Perhaps it is the fact that he waits by the gate for us to come feed. Perhaps it is the fact that we have thrown moldy hay that isn't fit for horses but is suitable for deer consumption not three feet away from where he stands to steal Cowboy's dinner. Whatever. But Spike is no longer a respectful deer. He won't even give you the satisfaction of bounding away from you when approach to feed. The dogs don't even inspire more than an irritated, half-hearted trot across the paddock.
He clearly considers himself a pet. A well-fed, completely at liberty pet.
*sigh*