In a dynamic, ever-changing landscape, it’s nice to know there are a few things you can depend on.
For me, the great solace of my week is the chance to check in with all the birds that visit my feeders on Saturday and Sunday mornings. No matter what insanity might be unfolding in the human world, the dependable appearance of the chickadees, jays and woodpeckers at the feeders is just the right tonic to set me right.
So too, I think the same sense of reliability must give our wild neighbors some measure of comfort. No matter how cold it gets, nor how deep the snow may become, there is always an offering of fresh seed out for whoever wishes to come and have breakfast. On the weekends, the bounty really unfolds because I am there to restock the buffet for second breakfast, elevensies, lunch, tea, dinner and supper. Anyone familiar with the feeding schedule of a hobbit will appreciate a cornucopia of this magnitude.
It is also quite interesting to note that many local mammals are also attracted to the seed at my feeders. The most obvious species are red and gray squirrels, but I have also seen many a rabbit down under the feeders and up on my deck looking for any sunflower seeds that might still be available. Then, of course, there are the mice that leave their tiny footprints in the snow. Lately, however, there is another species that has been coming for food and I am delighted.
There is a small herd of deer that has appeared this year. Deer are always around, but the idiosyncrasies of the individual deer seem to govern behavior from one year to the next. I have been delighted whenever a doe decides that my back yard is a safe place for her fawns to frolic in the twilight of dusk, but then there are stretches of time when no deer are seen at all. This year, the deer have appeared in the winter and they are putting on a magnificent show.
My next door neighbor has a crabapple tree that produces particularly large and prolific apples. The crabapple tree that I planted in my own yard is of equal size, but the apples are smaller and they tend to fall from the tree easier. So, at this point in the winter, there are no apples left on my tree because whatever fruits the birds were unable to swallow have fallen to the ground.
My neighbor’s tree is quite different. The larger apples hold on more tightly to the branches that nurtured them and the fruits themselves are just a little too large for the birds to get into. The deer, however, simply love this tree. The apples on the lower portion of the tree have all been picked and now there are only apples above the reach of their long necks. Every couple days, my neighbor goes out and gives the tree a shake, convincing a bunch of apples to fall to the ground.
The deer are quite aware of this renewing supply of apples and they regularly visit the tree. Lately, their visits have come in the afternoon and this has allowed me to take up a position near a favorable window and watch their behavior. In doing so, I’ve picked up on a couple of interesting things.
There appear to be two does who, together with their fawns, have joined forces in a little herd of six deer. Then there appears to be at least one adult male that also shows up from time to time. I don’t think that he is part of the group so much as he is headed for the same destination, and is coincidentally seen near the little herd.
The two does are noticeably larger than their fawns, and they also have white rings around their eyes and behind their noses that mark them as adults. The fawns lack these same white markings. These differences are easy to notice when the deer are side by side, but you’d need a good image in your mind if you were going to identify a mid-winter fawn that was by itself.
One particularly charming interaction occurred the last time the herd visited the apple tree. All six members were present and they were all busy sniffing the snow for any new fruits that may have fallen. Then, in unison, all of the deer raised their heads and looked to the east. Something bothered them and they all started to make their way down to the meadow.
Three of the fawns started scampering and chasing one another, which suggested that the disturbance wasn’t all that serious. One fawn stubbornly refused to leave the tree with the rest of the herd, and the fawn’s mother stayed at the edge of the yard, facing away from her disobedient offspring and noticeably annoyed that she was being delayed. The youngster refused to budge, so the doe headed back to the tree, got herself between the fawn and the tree, and then led her youngster to the west, right across the width of my yard.
I took photos of the entire interaction and chuckled a little to myself. It seems that human parents aren’t the only ones who have to deal with uncooperative offspring.
Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 21 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the U.S. Forest Service and Massachusetts State Parks and currently teaches high school biology and physics. Visit speakingofnature.com for more information, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.