O Deer

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I spent my tween and majority of my teen years in a house that backed up to some rather extensive woods.  We lived on the edge of town.  I spent quite a bit of time wandering among the trees and deer were never an unusual sight.  Opening day of deer season was a literal school holiday, but I was never a hunter.  Since we’ve killed off many deer predators, cars may be their biggest natural enemies these days.  I recently found deer droppings in the yard of my current house, right next to the newly mown down hosta.  I see deer all the time while out jogging.  A few years back I even saw a doe giving birth in a secluded glen along the trail.  I guess we do kind of live at the edge of town here too, but the woods don’t begin until across the road, and the jogging trail, and they aren’t as extensive as those I grew up with.

I’ve started to notice that deer are creatures of habit.  These are the common white-tails that predominate around here.  I often see them in the same area while on my crepuscular jog, sometimes multiple days in a row.  The other day I saw a young buck up on its hind legs to reach some low leaves on a tree.  I’d never seen a deer do that before.  There’s a spot a little further on where a doe and her two, sometimes three, fawns hang out.  I’ve seen them several times.  Recently they were in their accustomed place and when I reached the end of the trail and headed back, they were still there.  These deer aren’t too skittish around people and sometimes I can get quite close before they bolt off.

This particular day, however, I learned something.  Deer can vocalize.  I knew that elk did, but I’d never heard a white-tailed say anything.  Even when giving birth.  I thought they were completely silent, and as an introvert I tend to understand.  Coming back, the doe had crossed the trail and two fawns were on the other side as I approached.  The young ones ducked into the trees and one of them called for its mother.  I almost stopped in my tracks.  I didn’t know that white-tails vocalized.  I had to consult the internet when I got home just to make sure I had actually heard what I thought I had.  I’m at an age where motivating myself to get out and jog at first light isn’t always easy.  But when nature makes it a learning opportunity, well count me in.  

Image credit: USDA photo by Scott Bauer, public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Escanaba in da Moonlight

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My daughter was ill at school recently and I went to pick her up. It has been a few years since this has happened, so I guess I’m a little out of practice. In the school office there is a Star-Trekish device poking up through the counter where visitors check in. I was instructed to put my driver’s license on the device and an eerie glow emerged from it as they scanned my card. You are not allowed to leave with your own child, even if the school calls you, without being scanned. A New Jersey license is a real hassle to acquire with multiple forms of ID required – this isn’t the Midwest where you just turn in your expired license and they hand you a new one. Every four years you have to prove you are who you say you are. As we climbed into the car, I was glad for the school security, but I couldn’t help remembering.

I grew up in western Pennsylvania where deer worship was the dominant religion. The first day of buck season was a school holiday; I can’t recall if doe opening day was just a half-day or not. We could not graduate without passing a course called “hunter’s safety” which involved detailed instructions on how to shoot rifles and shotguns. My high school – God’s truth – had a rifle range in the basement and you were allowed to bring your rifle to school as long as you checked it in the principal’s office. When I tell others about this they don’t believe me, but when I ask my high school friends they all remember it that way too. Now that my stupidly smiling driver’s license image is floating around the school mainframe as a potential kidnapper for picking up my own daughter, I think about the difference in times.

Kids had guns in my high school in the late 1970s, but they knew that it was wrong to shoot other students. It was a small town, but we were all taught the rules of engagement and we knew that other human targets were outside the scope. Every year there were accidental hunting fatalities (Dick Cheney would have felt right at home), but the schools were used to address that issue. Today I see wind-bag politicians trying to cut back on education as much as possible and I see kids who don’t know any better killing their fellow students indiscriminately. No, I’m not nostalgic. I do not own a gun. It is my belief that children learn from adults, and when politicians say through their words and actions that looking out for number one is all that matters and that bullying (yes, Mr. Governor) is appropriate for getting what you want, I think it is no wonder we find ourselves with children who can’t tell right from wrong. I’m ready to watch Escanaba in da Moonlight and pray to the god of the deer.

Deer God...