The Buck Stops Here

Actually, several bucks stop here.  I live in one of those fenced in communities that has more deer per acre than people.  As it is fenced, it seems they are here to stay and looking for handouts.  When I moved here, I was surprised to find so many people feeding them, especially as these same people complained about how many there were. But perhaps the feeding is a sort of “protection money” thing.  “If I feed you, do you promise not to eat everything I planted in my yard?”

At first I pooh-poohed it.  I am a naturalist; I know the concept of “carrying capacity”.  The more you feed them, the freer they will feel to multiply. But then, they started showing up in my front yard.  Here they came, majestic bucks with huge racks, does with those liquid eyes.  Filling the front yard and how can an Italian, hard wired to feed things, resist?

I wasn’t going to give in to buying corn; that is essentially like feeding them cotton candy. Buying actual deer food wouldn’t sit well with my thrifty husband.  Instead, I started tossing out vegetable scraps, things that would go into a compost pile if I had one.  Scraps, that on Cape Cod, I just turned into my garden.  Here in the Hill country “turning” something into the “soil” only works if you are willing to wield a pickaxe.

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 Now I am hooked, and they are hooked.  Early morning visits treat me to sights of fawns on wobbly legs and bucks going through their antler development. However, for about 10 days after I broke my leg, I could barely move, let alone get food out to them and it about killed me.

Amusingly, they would all line up, facing the house, staring at the door as if to remember some incantation that would make it magically open and deliver food. Creating more angst for the hard-wired-to-feed Italian that I am.  Once I was finally given a hard cast and crutches, I was able to hobble out and feeding resumed.  I know, I know, I should have known better than to ever have started.  So, this is a confession of sorts.

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 However, I will never again be treated to watching antler development, doe pecking order, fawn growth, etc. at such a close range.  We will not be in Texas forever, so I am taking advantage of this behavior lab that is right out my door.

Next article, let’s talk about antler growth.  Many of the facts will be common knowledge for hunters but, perhaps, not for the rest of us.   Starting with dispelling the myth that you can tell a buck’s age by how many points are on the antler.

 Did you know; the only female deers with antlers are reindeers?  So if you ever thought Dancer might have been a girl’s name, as in “Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now Comet and Vixen!”, it probably was.  Next time then, “The Bucks Stops Here-Part two.”