It started about a month ago when my puggle, Angel, began barking at fleeting shadows when I took her out at night.

The other night, I glanced out the window and finally saw why.

There they were. Not one, not two, not three, but four white-tailed deer, leisurely roaming in front of my house.

Then, confirming that I really could believe my eyes, another doe came loping out of my neighbor's yard.

It was as if they had instant-messaged one another: Party in the cul-de-sac! Five or more, half off mixed twigs! Be there or be square!

Sure, it's easy to romanticize innocent creatures like deer in Cherry Hill, a township that, despite my sighting the other night, isn't overrun with them.

But in places like Valley Forge and Lower Merion, where too many deer have destroyed the vegetation of private residences, wrecked vehicles, and carry ticks that can cause Lyme disease, the scene is far less Fantasia and much more Bambi.

For those offenses, they get the death penalty. A controlled kill. Now that's an oxymoron.

Our apparent indifference is curious, at best. This is a country that has a hard time killing murderous fiends on death row. Or euthanizing people who want to die. Or that squawks more about dead dogs than about dead people.

But I guess we reconcile the deer death march in a way that just about everyone can understand: If the sharpshooters don't get them, the SUVs will.

Thinning out the herd

To cull or not to cull?

Or, more accurately, to kill or not to kill?

That's the big controversy at Valley Forge National Historical Park, where government officials are undertaking operations to rid the park of 1,500 deer, or 86 percent of its herd, over four years.

We're talking government-trained marksmen, high-powered rifles, night-vision optics, silencers.

It all sounds so Jack Bauer-ish.

Not to mention dangerous. And if you're one of the two animal-rights groups that have filed a federal lawsuit to stop the shoot, it's downright inhumane.

"There's a guns-in-the-park issue. There's a respecting-the-deer issue," says Allison Memmo Geiger of Compassion for Animals, Respect for the Environment, one of the groups. "The park is one of the few areas they can live and live peacefully. There are other solutions besides guns."

Like stocking the park with reflective road blockades and more natural predators, she said.

Too late

But if there are alternative ways to reduce the deer population, Lower Merion isn't having it. Apparently it's too late for birth control.

The township brought in a sharpshooting team to conduct the first phase of a kill that concluded last night. The plan is to eventually take out 576 deer.

And here's the thing. Nobody's complaining. I guess when you have deer dodging traffic on City Avenue, people can understand the magnitude of the problem.

"We've gotten virtually no push-back from residents," says Brenda Viola, township spokeswoman. "If anything, they're saying, 'Can you come to my neighborhood?' "

Well, then. I guess we haven't developed an affinity for deer like our dogs and cats. But did it really have to come to this? There's something so barbaric about it all.

Then again, if I were coexisting with 58 deer a square mile, I'd probably be tempted to put some in the crosshairs myself.

Luckily, deer haven't been a problem in Cherry Hill since Springdale Farm erected a deer-blocking fence a couple of years ago, cutting off their food. And in 1950 the township passed an ordinance that banned hunting.

"We tell residents some of the things they can do is put deer repellent on their property or grow plants that may be distasteful to deer, like daffodils, forget-me-nots, and thyme," says Dan Keashen, township spokesman.

Maybe this spring. In the meantime, it's kind of cool to watch the deer frolic in my cul-de-sac.

Sure hope they don't have relatives on the Pennsylvania side.

Contact columnist Annette John-Hall at 215-854-4986 or Ajohnhall@phillynews.com. Read her work: http://go.philly.com/annette