STATEN ISLAND, N.Y. — They. Are. Everywhere. Striding down the street at 3 a.m., inspecting my shrubbery, and appearing randomly throughout the day with quiet authority while I hike through the Greenbelt.

I speak their name — deer — with respect. With those antlers, their girth and their effortless leaps over six-foot spiky fences, they deserve it. And since deer don’t vote, I figured they were fair game — and a very good distraction after last week’s election.

This mating season, a five- or six-point buck has become such a regular on my walks through Snug Harbor Cultural Center and Botanical Garden that I’ve named him Brad. And I am not afraid. My husband assures me Brad isn’t either — and that he won’t charge.

Moose will, on the other hand. But they haven’t swum across the Arthur Kill

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