Back in the wildlife rehab days of my past, we had a number of deer who we had to keep for one reason or another (Usually one of those "abandoned" fawns some well-meaning soul brought in). It wasn't uncommon for the local yahoos to cut the fences and "free" the deer, which of course were then in terrible danger as it was in a semi-residential area.
One morning I walked over to the acreage where they were kept to find one of the bucks coming straight at me. For some unknown reason he was really small as bucks go but he had a full rack, and all I could do was grab hold and hang on, trying to keep away from those front hooves, which can do real damage. We danced around, me screaming for help at the top of my lungs, for probably five minutes before someone heard me and came running, and together we muscled him back and fixed the enclosure. He was sweet as a lamb when there was a fence between him and people but I wasn't the only one who had to defend myself when he got a chance!
We loved him anyway. 
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