The weather was rapidly deteriorating as I made my way into the valley to hunt down more deer with my Rebel T7.
Moderately heavy rain was turning to sleet. Soon, it would turn to snow. And, I knew the next morning would be an icy shitshow. I wasn’t willing to slip and slide my way into the valley in the morning, so I figured I’d chase the bucks and does on their evening commute to their nightly beds. Hopefully, my weather-resistant camera would survive the adventure.
As I was driving through the North Ranch part of Ken Caryl Valley, something in the corner of my eye caught my attention as I drove by a narrow greenbelt between houses. It was a forked beam of antler belonging to the largest known buck of the valley, El Jefe. As soon as I could, I found a cul-de-sac to flip a u-ey in, then parked my Xterra on the side of the road across from where I saw the buck. Through the rain drops on my side window, I saw not just one huge buck, but two, both of whom were gnawing on cottonwood twigs in a gulley, not ten yards from the nearest house. I felt my heart skipping beats as I quickly attached the longest lens to my camera, jumped out of my truck, and began to follow a narrow deer trail through the grass. All while the two bucks watched from their place in the gully, their massive ears and antlers aimed at me.
But, they didn’t pose a threat to me, and I did my best not to pose a threat to them. After all, I just wanted some pictures of them using my new toy. While I wasn't hunting them with a rifle and a tag, I still felt a good amount of adrenaline rushing through my veins; Buck Fever had set in.
At this time of year, when winter’s just officially begun and the rut’s just ended, the older bucks tend to be a little more wary of others than the does and younger bucks. They also don’t tend to congregate in herds with the does or younger bucks often, as they’ve already bred with the does and want no part in taking care of the springtime fawns (I’m certain there’s a crude joke or two in that last sentence, but I’m not gonna touch them). During the winter, the older bucks either go through it alone, or gather up in bachelor herds. And they spend a lot of time on the move, scouring the landscape for anything that has sufficient nutrients.
Winter and early spring are the hardest seasons for deer (and all other animals) to survive, as food is scarce, the weather is particularly harsh, some hunting seasons are still active, and predators are also hungrier than usual. Plus, a lot of the older bucks emerge from the rut injured, and need lots of energy to recover, but nutritious foliage is hard to come by when the land is blanketed in frost and snow. Thankfully, those two bucks looked relatively healthy, and could probably last a few more winters. But, I did notice that one was considerably skinnier than the other, and also had a split ear, likely earned during the height of the rutting season.
Because I was all adrenalized, I didn't realize that I was getting so close to the bucks until they both turned tail and trotted away from me. So, I stopped mid-stride to collect myself. My heart was racing, my mouth was watering, and my vision was starting to tunnel. In my mind, those two bucks looked like tasty backstraps on stilts. But, again, I wasn't hunting them for food. I was hunting them for some badass pictures. And, in order to get close enough to them for a decent picture in that weather, I had to chill out and relax.
Those bucks could sense my physiology, and didn't seem to like that I was staring at them like a stalking mountain wildcat.
When I eventually calmed myself down, the bucks also relaxed. They still kept some distance between myself and them, but they were no longer staring me down wide-eyed. Instead, they went back to scavenging the Cottonwoods for nutritious foliage, keeping only their big mule ears aimed at me at all times.
At the bottom of a very slight hill, I readied my camera at one of the bucks (the healthier of the two), who stood broadside to me, staring south towards the houses. His antlers dripped with moisture from the heavy sleet. His wiry fur, while wet on the outside, repelled water away from the inner layers keeping him warm. I did my best to mimic the noise of a bleating doe with just my voice, to get the buck to look at me for his first picture. It must've been a pretty good impression, as the buck turned to stare right at me and took a couple steps closer.
As soon as I was done taking the first couple pictures (I'd discovered my camera has a "sport mode" specifically for taking pictures of fast-moving things), the buck glanced over his left shoulder away from me, watching as the second buck hoofed it out of the Cottonwoods. That buck also glanced my way, but not for very long. Apparently, I wasn't scary enough to warrant a lot of attention from either of them.
Under the cover of increasingly-heavy rain, I stepped closer to the bucks. I didn't go unnoticed, however. Both bucks were staring me down, wondering what the hell I was up to. Unlike the other deer, these bucks didn't know me, and I didn't really know them. I'd only caught glimpses of them from the road time-to-time, but never spent a lot of time getting up-close-and-personal with them, as I did with the does and younger bucks. Still, they weren't showing any signs of distress, aside from their tall ears aimed at me. So, I crept closer and lifted my camera to get more pictures of those beasts.
I stayed stiff and silent till the bucks turned their backs on me and slowly plodded away, their heads low in search of food. Under the cover of rain, I crept closer to the bucks, walking with a very careful heel-to-toe gait through the stubble, avoiding any and all dried twigs and leaves. It helped that I was wearing Ugg boots, which are more-or-less glorified wool slippers. Perfect for silently stalking Muleys through the crunchy winter grass. They make it easier to feel the twigs and cacti underfoot that may make too much noise if stepped on.
I stopped in my tracks as I watched the bucks turn towards each other, their heads low and their ears pinned and to the side. While the rut was technically over, bucks would still fight for a number of reasons, such as to settle a dispute over food and territory, to help each other shed their antlers in the winter, or just to have a friendly sparring match. Regardless, I didn't want to get too close to them for obvious reasons. So, from my point in the grass, I aimed my camera at them and watched with a wide smile as the bucks began to circle each other, almost like sharks, seemingly sizing each other up.
I watched those two bucks give one another challenging looks, holding their heads up high and keeping their ears low and aimed at each other. It was so exciting, I couldn't help but chant, "Fight, fight, fight..." under my breath, which both deer unfortunately heard. They called off the sparing match after they both looked up at me, and began to wander away from one another. One ventured deeper into the cottonwoods. The other into someone's backyard. All the while, I was in the background, snapping numerous pictures using my camera's "sport mode". I was a little disappointed but equally relieved that I didn't get to witness two bucks try to kill each other, a mere ten yards away from me.
