Living with Deer.1

I love animals. I love them so much that sometimes I think they know I’ll be there for them when they get into trouble.

We have a constant presence of Pacific blacktail deer here in the small town where I live. They amble about freely in the lawns and gardens of people who have bowed to the inevitable: deer eat what’s in gardens unless you fence them out. They are loved, cherished even, by most. They cross the streets – usually at a leisurely pace – and for the most part, they survive very well. They’ve adapted to living with people. I’ve watched many generations of deer traipse through my postage-stamp front lawn.

I’ve watched as does swell with pregnancy begun in the cold of winter,

I’ve cheered the mammas as they lead their fawns’ debut into the world, I’ve watched the antics of older fawns cavorting in the empty lot next door, I’ve seen the young bucks develop antler buds, and admired the full racks of the breeding bucks.

I’ve also watched the small tragedies unfold. Some turn into triumphs, and sometimes we just lose some members of the population. I know that’s normal, but when you get to know families and can recognize the buck who broke his leg last summer and live to walk into another year; or the wise doe who keeps raising beautiful healthy fawns, it sure hurts to see any of them in trouble.

Three years ago last August, I drove up to my house after work, and the matriarch doe of my group was patiently lying in my front yard for me. These deer are totally wild and do not stick around if you’re close. But since she didn’t spring away, I saw something was wrong: a broken hind leg. She needed help with food. It was dry and food resources were getting sparse. So I spent the rest of the summer supplementing her food with apples and grain from the local grange. I worried she would not last through the very cold winter we had that year. But she survived! She’s got a large lumpy spot where the break healed, and the break didn’t heal totally straight.

But three years later, with more gray around the muzzle and more raggedy edges around the ears, she’s still going strong. She favors the leg in intense cold, and doesn’t jump on it unless she has to. But she can when she needs to. She won, through her smarts, lots of luck, and maybe a little help from a friend.