When I moved from the Bay Area to the Sierras, I realized a goal I had desired since my junior year in high school. After 3 schoolmates and I spent the first week of summer backpacking Tuolumne Meadows in the 70’s, I moved to the mountains in 1997. El Dorado County was where I spent time skiing the slopes, kayaking the lakes, fishing the streams, exploring the back roads, gold panning, volunteering with the Search and Rescue team, and spending 2 summers at the now removed Baltic Lookout.
It was a fortuitous move because I met my wife in 2003. In 2006, we bought an acre, put up a home and moved onto the Ridge above Chico. She introduced me to the canyon of the West Branch of the Feather River, superb fishing and wildlife viewing opportunities. I thought of myself as an outdoorsman, but the little knowledge I had was expanded by the animals we found in our own backyard. Odd pine cone camouflaged spiders, brightly colored Western Tanagers and punk looking Pileated Woodpeckers.
I had taught myself about trout fishing through reading and practice. The little I knew came in handy when a bear nabbed our freeze dried food 3 days into my youthful week long backpack trip. I learned there was a big difference between being a fisherman and actually catching fish to live on. My wife proves this every outing by getting her limit in short order while I maybe manage a half limit for the entire day.
I had read Outdoor Life and Field and Stream magazines to learn about both hunting and fishing. I had always heard about the biggest bodied and antlered buck, lived alone, high in the mountains. My wife and I got an advanced course in deer herd activities from our back deck. One of the bucks who we spotted was a probable survivor of a cougar attack, arriving one morning with large rake marks (from a cat’s back claws) down both of his rear flanks.
In the past, I was impressed in seeing 23 does and fawns together in a small meadow above Strawberry, near Sonora. Our own backyard herd was coeducational, not segregated a fairly stable 18 or so. We had spikes, fork horns, 3 pointers and more, together with 4-5 does and their fawns. The residual mounds of topsoil from our construction, made a par course for both males and females to chase one another around on. Fawns chased each other, does sometimes chased the bucks, and the bucks played king of the mounds. The bucks would get crazy, running across property lines, dashing through the brush and around the oaks and pines like motocross riders. If the bucks got too rambunctious around the fawns, mom would stomp her feet or kick at the offending buck.
The bucks did not seem to be the small coastal Blacktail Deer. They were not as large as we expected Mule Deer to be either. After checking online, we thought our local herd might be hybrids of the two species. The females looked like Blacktails, based on their shape, coloration and tail. The males had square bodies, very large antlers with ears larger than Blacktail but seeming smaller than Muley’s. Some bucks had thin Blacktail type antlers, others had huge trophy type racks. The fawns were almost always male and frequently twins (a sign of crossbreeding as I recall). Does would groom other does, fawns, and even bucks (previous offspring?), licking like a cat or lightly nipping at the probable ticks. The deer would interact with each other and tolerate other creatures. Looking at the photos, maybe they were Mule Deer.
The deer tolerated our presence as long as we didn’t stare for too long or directly at them. This tolerance, extended to other species, led to the Wererabbit Incident. The drought conditions of 2007 through 2011, caused us to place a water trough and water tray for the deer and the local squirrels and rabbits. It made it less likely for deer trying to cross the main road, Skyway, to be hit by vehicles. The animals would also sneak snacks of our chicken feed before I built a fenced enclosure for the girls.
One afternoon, while washing veggies for dinner, my wife called me to the window above the kitchen sink. There in the backyard was one of the resident deer eating from our chicken feed. Across from him was a rabbit, also eating from our chicken tray, sharing what looked like a neighborly meal.
All of the sudden the deer looked up somewhat startled. We saw and heard nothing from inside the house. The fork horn buck went back to eating. 30 seconds later the jackrabbit pops up and forward about 3 inches, almost like a person stomping their foot at a barking dog. The startled deer backed off 3 paces and watched as the rabbit went back to dining from his side of the container. The buck slowly returned to his spot and started to eat again.
As things look to be settled, the rabbit came to life, rising up on it’s hind legs, he jumped like a boxer at the deer, 10 times his own size. The buck must have been thinking (WTF?), “Wererabbit!”! He turned tail and ran away, with an angry Wererabbit 5 to 7 feet behind in hot pursuit. At that point my wife and I are almost crying from laughing so hard. We’d never seen anything like it before. We still joke and laugh about it to this day.
There is an epilogue to the the Wererabbit Incident. We’ve all heard the children’s story of poor Rudolph being excluded from the reindeer games and how by saving the day he is included. At about 4 the very next afternoon, I was on the back deck when I hear a crashing sound coming down the hill from next door. Scouts honor, I saw a deer running with his antlers low to the ground. 4 feet ahead was a jack rabbit running for his life. I swear, it was the same buck and rabbit from the day before. The deer must have caught all kinds of grief from his deer friends and decided a little pay back was in order to salve his wounded ego. Natural balance, Wild Ridge deer games in Magalia, exciting nature in our own backyard.