The Nature of Things

Dear to the mountains

Not too long ago I was privy to a joyous sight. The sun had not yet risen over the eastern mountains. Sitting in a crevice of rocks, I watched the changing light. Suddenly, a mule deer came sprinting out of a willowcovered creek.

Galloping, this doe carried none of the morning's stillness. She traveled along the hill, continually looking back from where she came. Her behavior was unusual, so I watched with anticipation.

In the mood to play

She pranced on the hillside and then stood still, always watching the creek. After a few minutes she galloped full force to the top of the knoll, turned around and trotted back to the willows.

Just then I saw the ears of a second doe watching the first, which again charged to the crest of the hill. This time the second reluctantly followed but was less enthusiastic and did not travel to the top. She stayed midway, watching. The first doe pranced occasionally in a seeming invitation to join her at the top.

Eventually she stood still, looking back forlornly, waiting for her companion to join her in a romp. But no such thing occurred; the newcomer turned back into the thicket, abandoning her partner. The remaining doe stood waiting and watching.

STOP MOTION- A mule deer stands as still as a statue when it senses an approaching creature. When it was evident she had been left alone, she galloped down the hill, crashing through the creek thicket and noisily charging up the opposite hill. Once at the top she waited restlessly, all the while looking back to see if she was being followed. But again her companion took no interest. After a few minutes of looking back, she settled and began to graze.

Though I am no expert in animal behavior and I may be anthropomorphizing, this scene reminded me of a child or puppy trying to lure its companion to play. The doe's energy and attention was wholly engaged on her companion.

Regardless of the message, since that morning the tracks and signs of deer have taken on greater significance for me. I understand they are not random smudges left by grazing ungulates. Each piece of evidence helps build a more complete picture of these dynamic mammals.

Vital characteristics

The Santa Monica Mountains are home to numerous mule deer, Odocoileus hemionus, family Cervidae. Species in this family are ungulates with two functional toes as well as dewclaws. Only males grow antlers, which are shed each year. Other family characteristics are large, mobile ears, many dermal scent glands and a lack of canine teeth in the upper jaw.

The mule deer is mediumsized in comparison with others in its family, although size varies depending on age, sex and habitat. The bucks are considerably larger than the does, weighing from 125 to 400 pounds, while females weigh 100 to 150. These deer stand about 3 to 3½ feet in height and appear more reddish brown in summer and more grayish in the winter. They often have a white rump patch and a tail tipped with black.

Far and wide

Mule deer are found in coniferous forests, meadows, chaparral, grasslands, deserts and oak woodlands. I have seen these animals along the coastline and have tracked a mother and fawn across the mud flats of Malibu Lagoon.

These animals range over the western United States, north to the coniferous forests of Canada and south to northern Mexico. Mule deer are most active at dusk and dawn and often are seen foraging alone or in small groups. These animals graze amongst grasses and herbs, browse on shrubs and small trees, and love acorns.

In late summer to early fall males' necks begin to thicken, and they become more aggressive toward each other. This characterizes the beginning of rutting season, which can extend into January, depending on the herd.

Family time

Rutting establishes which bucks reproduce with which does, and mating begins shortly after. After a gestation period of about seven months, usually two fawns are born sometime between May and July. The fawns are born with spots. They are able to walk only a few minutes after birth.

Although mule deer are common, they are often overlooked due to their mastery of camouflage and stillness; they often seem to disappear into the chaparral. Beyond this stillness I been privileged to witness a vast array of activity: nursing, foraging and "verbal communication."

But recently my mind replays the vision of the two deer on the hillside.

What were they saying to each other? Was one looking to play and the other not interested? Maybe the exact message is not important. Possibly the significance comes from sitting and watching, realizing that all things are in communication.