A Tawny Streak of Wildness
There were deer everywhere, and they were preoccupied with sex. The does were standoffish; the bucks were crazed, driven by instinct and testosterone. I walked up to the edge of the woods and saw deer in every direction. They all carried an intense energy. Heads down, moving quickly, searching. I looked to my right and saw a doe bedded down with the mature buck nearby. They were 20 yards away. I knew right away she was likely in estrous, and the buck was waiting for his chance to breed.
Unfortunately for him, a more dominant buck - an uber male with an impossibly large neck - noticed the doe. He exuded confidence, aggression, and maleness. He was bigger and much more muscular than the other buck. He came up within 10 yards and stopped. The smaller buck glanced in his direction and quickly moved away with a low, slinking stride. The dominant buck walked up, looked at me, and sniffed the doe. She got up and ran into the woods with her suitor trailing close behind.
The fall breeding season for whitetail deer is spectacular, but there are year-round opportunities to observe one of the most fascinating animals in North America.Â
I arrived at my sit spot at first light on a rosy May morning to listen to the dawn chorus and watch the crepuscular show. Soft fragments of halfhearted American Robin song filled the air. They gave the distinct impression of being sleepy. Whitetail deer were moving through the oak savanna on well-worn trails on their way to bed down for the morning. The deer in this nature preserve are habituated to people. There is no hunting, and a road and popular hiking trail bring deer and people into frequent close contact.
I visit this spot often, and the deer that frequent this area know me and mostly tolerate my presence. This provides an opportunity to observe deer going about their daily routine.
When they first see me, they pause to try and figure out what I am. This often entails the deer showing a mix of curiosity and fear. Does and their offspring are the most common. A wise old doe is usually in the lead.
When she spotted me, she stopped and stared with her large obsidian eyes. Every deer and every encounter is different, and her initial body language reflects her mental state. She will wag her tail and continue browsing if she is calm and at ease. If curiosity gets the best of her, she will turn and walk toward me. It is common for deer in this area to come within 10 yards to get a closer look. They stop and stare, turning their head from side to side like a curious dog. They often raise their noses and test the wind, trying to catch my scent.
You can see tension ripple through their body when they figure out you are a person. They often raise a front foot, preparing to stamp an alarm.
Most of the time, with these deer, they lose interest and continue foraging. The fawns follow the doe and learn from her every move. The doe imparts her food preferences and travel routes onto the fawns. The doe is the leader who wanders through nearby yards at night, sampling the landscaping and vegetable gardens.
I continued down the trail and eventually circled around behind the deer. They were on an island in the middle of the marsh, where they lie down during the day. I looked across the marsh and saw a group of people walking down the trail. They were noisy, and they had two dogs with them. I sensed an opportunity for another close encounter with the deer. The group of hikers moved within 100 yards, and the deer started to get nervous. A large doe stood up and scanned the scene. She walked up a rise to get a better look.
She was standing at attention, leaning forward, her eyes and ears fixated on the group of people. She did not like what she saw; her body tensed. Other deer picked up on this and started to stand up. Twelve deer were milling about, trying to decide what to do next. I took a few steps down a hill and peered over the top of the grass so I was mostly hidden from view. The lead doe turned and headed down a trail toward me, and the group followed. They vanished into a willow thicket that adjoined an area of open water between me and the deer. Most of the deer remained hidden in the willows. However, four of them committed to swimming across the water toward me.
They emerged from the water, and their svelt, muscular bodies released sheets of water and a shower of silvery, sparkling droplets.
They walked up the rise and looked back across the water. Then one of the does spotted me, snorted, and took off running. They moved like a bolt of lightning, streaking across the rough landscape with a perfectly smooth flow that seemed impossibly graceful and athletic. They were running full tilt and quickly vanished into the woods.
I return to this same area in early summer when the fawns are naïve and curious. Right about when warblers start to diminish in number, fawns become more conspicuous. On a recent visit, I was standing in the prairie and noticed a doe 100 yards away staring at me. Then I heard faint, bleat calls carried on the wind. I thought she was calling to a fawn near her, but then I heard a rustling in the prairie grass nearby and realized a fawn was near me. I saw the grass shaking and realized two fawns were chasing each other, making their way down the trail toward me. I backed up. The doe was calling more loudly now to her oblivious offspring. The next thing I see is a small, brown head pop out into the open 6 feet away. I can see her spots, large, shining eyes, and long eyelashes as she pauses to look around. At first, she did not notice me, but then she turned and looked at me with an expression of open curiosity.
Her brother ran up from behind, breaking out into the open, where they chased each other and romped around like bucking broncos. Only now do they stop to look at me. They stand side-by-side and stare.
After a minute or so, they finally responded to what must have been an exasperated mother and ran off to join her.
Later that night, the deer inhabited my dreams, and I felt compelled to follow the fawns and walk toward the doe hiding in the shadows. She watched me approach without moving. I entered a small grassy opening and stood before her.
I saw myself reflected in her dark eyes as she stood and raised her front leg. I held out my hand and leaned in until my cheek nestled into the soft fur of her cheek. We embraced, and then we waltzed through the woods. I manifested her grace and ease as we twisted and turned through the green grass. We were light. We were free.
Those who dwell, as scientists or laymen, among the beauty and mysteries of the earth, are never alone or weary of life.
Rachel Carson
This morning I watched the deer
with beautiful lips, touching the tips
of the cranberries, setting their hooves down
in the dampness carelessly, isn’t it after all
the carpet of their house, their home, whose
roof Is the sky?
Why, then, was I suddenly miserable?
Well, this is nothing much
this is the heaviness of the body watching the swallows
gliding just under the roof
This is the wish that the deer would not lift their heads
and leap away, leaving me there alone.
This is the wish to touch their faces, their brown wrist –
to sing some sparkling poem
into the folds of their ears,
then walk with them,
over the hills
and over the hills
And into the impossible trees.
Mary Oliver
Another wonderful piece of writing, Bill. I shudder when the fall comes and we see the carcasses of deer along the highway. One time at dusk a group came bounding out of the brush and ran across the road right in front of me. We were all lucky -- they made it to the other side and I got to see them.
I love your pictures! And especially enjoyed the two does coming out of the water,
and the Bambi’s looking over their spots at you and the camera.