The Morning Stalk

You never know when you're going to have an extraordinary day. I've learned to watch out for the weepy gray days, the ones trying so hard to be ordinary, to pass without notice. November 17, 2017, was just such a day.

While doing my morning wildlife feeding, I noticed a big dark doe walking, all the way out the meadow. Most people say, "Oh, it's only a doe," as if a doe were somehow less a deer than a buck, but I like does. It's like Patton Oswalt said long ago: "I like porn. Because I can GET porn."

Does are easier to see and far easier to stalk; does are easier to identify from year to year, as they aren't always changing their headgear and going through wild hormonal changes. So I threw on a coat and my boots and headed out to stalk this intriguing animal. 

The first thing I noticed about her was large size. Then, her deep blue color, and her beautifully straight topline. Hmm. 

And then I picked up the brilliant white stockings down the back of her front legs. 

She stopped and stood, rooted, staring back at me, and she was so beautiful I thought she might have to be Jolene. Jolene! Is it you? I couldn't remember if Jolene had a red tail, tipped in black. All these little things matter, all these things remain constant year to year, and I add them up to figure out who is who. 

But I don't waste any time looking at my photos when I'm stalking deer. I'm too busy getting those photos and keeping a low profile. I am happy to figure out who I've got after I upload them, when I can closely study and compare the current photos with my library of photos of known individuals. I hadn't seen Jolene since May, and she was heavily pregnant then. 

As luck and the rut would have it, this doe was not alone for long. Out of the woods to the west came a very large buck!

I immediately dropped behind the tall goldenrod, thankful that my part of the meadow hadn't been mowed.  I dared a few shots, rising up just enough to get the lens on him, then sinking back down. 

From his point of view, there was something small, odd and dark popping up and down in the frost- bleached goldenrod, and he wasn't sure what it was. 

I crawled, holding my camera under my belly, getting closer and staying in cover. I peeped up. The buck was still there, still looking at the spot where he last saw me. 

I stayed down. I wanted him to forget about me and think about sex. Finally he turned and continued parading slowly toward the doe. Fabulous! I took that opportunity to hunch-run a bunch closer, while his attention was diverted.

When his bone-white antlers pierced the darkness of the Virginia pines, I knew I had someone special. I couldn't help but notice his beautiful topline, and the white stockings down the backs of his front legs.

Does a buck follow his sister when they're all grown up? If she's in heat, does he know not to court her? Or is it hers to refuse and outrun him? These are things I wonder, and will likely never know. Surely they know each other by sight and smell, if they were raised together. 

Could poor crooked Ellen have been the outcome of a brother-sister tryst? 

So much to wonder. 

Look at his neck--swollen with muscle, built up by fighting saplings and other bucks. Look at the length of his tines. Eight points. A gorgeous gentleman.

When he turned, I could see a pretty good gouge on his right hind leg, doubtless from another buck's tine. He was moving well, though, keeping up appearances for the doe.

The doe had been watching me all along, and she was unnerved by how close I'd gotten. She rushed toward the buck and he broke into a run.  If you click on the photo you can see her motion ghost behind him. 

She was moving right along, outpacing him.

The eternal chase. You can see how heavy are his neck and forequarters compared to hers. He's ponderous by comparison.

It had been a magical encounter. I love little more than being out in a meadow with deer, having some cover to hide in while I watch them living their graceful, beautiful lives.

Next, we'll figure out who that doe was.

Buffy Facts

Buffy comes into the yard to clean up bird seed and cracked corn, but she hasn't gotten the hang of it just yet. She needs to fine-tune her arrival time earlier in the day, before the blue jays get all the corn.

Get a load of her chin and throat whiskers! Buffy! You should  be tweezing. Some of those suckers are 6" long!

I've learned that when Buffy's in the sideyard, Flag and Pinky are usually hanging out in the brushy backyard, waiting for her. Without their mama to lead them, they're shy. They follow Buffy almost as if she were their mom, though. They need to follow someone.

So I shoot a few frames of Buffy, check on her eye, and then run down to the back windows to click away at Pinky and Flag.

I caught a sweet interaction between Buffy and Flag. Buffy's grooming Flag's face.

And Flag grooms Buffy's neck.

You can see how pallid and gray Flag is (like her mama Ellen) compared to warm-toned Buffy. 

It takes me a long time to really nail down individual deer ID. I make it sound easy, but I'm presenting a hard-won amalgam, a distillation of features I've gleaned over many encounters.  Every time I am privileged to see these deer, I pick up some tiny new feature that will help me identify them from varying angles. For instance, it wasn't until February 1 that I was able to notice that Buffy has a fox-red tail! Well, duh! Look at that!

I would add that she has a nice round bottom, too. Buffy's a brick house. 

You should click on this one to see her grizzled hair. I love this shot. 

Of course I am quietly worrying all the time about her left eye. It's noticeably smaller than the right eye. Which makes me wonder about its functionality. And in these shots you can see the problem, especially if you click on them. She's got at least one ulcer on her cornea. In the shot below, it appears as a white dash toward the outside of her left eye. 

Ulcers hurt. That's why her eye weeps all the time, why she was holding it closed for awhile. I look online for information. One wildlife rehab site states: Ulcers may fail to heal due to external causes including continuing trauma, unresolved infection or foreign substance embedded in the eyelid or in the cornea itself.

Given that Buffy's had an ulcer and trail of tears on her cheek for at least a year now, I suspect she has a continuing infection, a deep scratch, or perhaps something imbedded in her cornea. I hope not. I hope one day she comes to me, clear eyed and bright.

I notice, studying the shot above, that she's also got a slight notch in her right distal eartip. I think that she is no longer young.  I am thankful that she can see, that she hasn't ended up like poor Ellen.

Buffy is a survivor, and she is a valued companion to Ellen's twins.

Flag looks back, partially obscured by winter weeds. (Don't worry, her right eye's fine!)

And who's that peeking from behind the dead pine?

Pinky! Click and you can see his pink patent leather nose.

Pinky is even smaller than his sister Flag. And he has a little divot in his right eyebrow that gives him a dubious look. 

Now, having read this post, you can tell Pinky from Flag from Buffy. You're recognizing individual deer.

I'll warn you: Falling in love with whitetails is setting yourself up for heartbreak. Their lives are rarely easy or long. But that's nothing new.  Love, for me, so often walks hand in hand with heartbreak.  I just resolve to love these animals fiercely while they're here, drinking in the myriad things, big and small, that I am privileged to discover about these animals. 

I've saved my favorite photo for last. 

February 3, 2014.

 Buffy, the sometime pugilist, pauses to give crooked little Ellen a good kissing. She couldn't know that three years later she'd be left looking after Ellen's last pair of twins. Ah, it's a sweet, sweet life, when you stop to take notice of it all.