There are deer in my garden. I live on the edge of civilization, well, not really. We have internet and paved streets. I live beyond the sidewalks and among the trees, bushes, grass, weeds. I love it. But the deer love it, too.
I have some plants that survive our weather, but not the deer. Flowers, vegetables, any growing thing below five feet tall is subject to sampling by the deer. Once I grew cucumbers. One day there were a few bites out of the leaves. The next day the cucs were all gone! "Share," says my mother-in-law. I said, "Those deer don't share!" The exasperation!
More recently I've come to enjoy deer in my garden. I spray the flowers with repellant. I have a fence around my vegetable garden. I let the deer trim my trees up to "here" and eat all the grass they want. Now I call them my yard crew.
Looking out the window I check the view for tell-tale ears in the tall grass, or among the bushes and rocks, big ears spread like a "V." Some deer lounging in my yard. Sometimes there are a couple little guys taking their first stumbly steps. The mothers bring their little ones back here to eat all the good stuff, rest in the tall grass or on the lawn, drink from the little pond.
You could say, God provides for all his creatures.