It was an usually quiet, calm Saturday morning in the Valley as I drove through the North Ranch neighborhood towards God’s Ass.

Now that it was the second day of November, it was finally getting cooler. Not yet cold, but cool enough for me to wear a hoodie without getting soaked in sweat. 

When I got to God’s Ass, I gathered up my camera gear, locked up the Xterra, and immediately headed for the cave between two huge red rock boulders. As I approached the entrance of the cave, I clicked my tongue as loudly as I could to let the resident pigeons know that I was coming in. In the past, if I simply snuck into the cave without making a sound, the pigeons would freak out and practically fly into my face while getting away. But, if I simply announced myself, they wouldn’t panic. Instead, they stayed in their little alcoves in the red rocks and cooed as they watched me pass below. 

The cave was short, with the exit to the outside hardly 300 feet from the entrance. Thousands of years before, the Ute and Arapaho tribes used that cave as shelter as they traveled from the plains to the mountains and back. Like Red Rocks, located just a couple miles north, they considered that red rock cave sacred. Nowadays, it’s surrounded by multi-million dollar homes, one of which stands just another 20 feet from the exit side of the cave, where I paused to look around in search of any signs of life. 

There were no deer. There were no turkeys. There wasn’t a single bird in the gambel oaks above and around me. It was unusual, but I wasn’t picking up any “bad vibes”, so I kept going, following the path away from the cave and down into a small field, with the red rocks to my west and mansions to my east. 

From then on, the hike around the red rocks was completely silent and uneventful. I could’ve stopped to take pictures of those red rocks, but I didn’t; I already had taken hundreds, perhaps even thousands of pictures of those rocks over the years. I didn’t need or want any more. 

As I followed the trail around to the western side of the rocks, the sound of a little Cessna finally broke the silence, but not for long. I watched as the little plane flew eastward directly overhead, and listened as the sound of its engine gradually died out, leaving me in complete silence again. I hiked in the shadow of those giant red rocks till I got back to my Xterra, a little disappointed by the fact that I saw no wildlife, but still glad I got out there in nature to give my mind and spirit a break. 

I was retracing my path through the North Ranch neighborhood when I finally saw a deer in my peripheral vision in someone’s front lawn. At the stop sign, instead of going straight, I turned and pulled over by the mailbox to get a better look at that lone doe, whom I recognized as one of the older does with fawns. As soon as I thought about her two little fawns, they came bounding out of the pines towards mama. They were yearlings now; their fur was grey and fluffy just like their mom’s, only their faces were shorter than their ears. All three deer were on high alert. Mama stopped and kept looking over her shoulder as her fawns crossed the road just behind me, their little hooves clicking the asphalt as they trotted into someone’s backyard. 

Then another, much calmer doe showed up, followed by a 3X5 buck who was sniffing the air. Clearly, the buck had only one thing on his mind, but the doe wasn’t having it. As I rushed to put my camera together, he tried to mount her, but she pinned her ears and darted straight ahead. The buck stood still and curled his upper lip up, imitating a “horse laugh”, just to make sure that the doe was in heat, while she stared back at him, trying to predict his next move. 

Just then, two more bucks showed up, one larger than the first one, and the other smaller than both of them. The smaller, three-point buck smartly decided to hang behind while the much larger, wide-antlered buck approached with his ears low and to the side. He snorted threateningly at the other buck, who stood stock-still in the shadow of a Russian Olive tree, bobbing his head and keeping his ears trained on the approaching buck. 

Note: I will add pictures. I just have to make them smaller and I ran out of time to upload them. 

Soon enough, the larger buck was circling the smaller buck like a shark. The littler buck kept his head low, ears high, and antlers aimed towards the larger buck at all times. The larger buck circled the littler one for several minutes, audibly huffing and stomping his steps in the leaves. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the bucks lined up head-to-head and, in one swift movement, connected their antlers. Every other deer within earshot of those antlers clicking high-tailed it away, leaving the two mule deer bucks to fight it out alone. 

My heart jumped into my throat as the bucks locked antlers and began pushing each other around. While the larger buck had the upper hand, the littler one managed to unlock his antlers and drive them into the larger buck’s neck. Because of that, the larger buck was forced to concede that first round. But, then immediately stood stiff as a statue as the littler buck charged into his antlers again. 

That time, the larger buck was able to keep his antlers locked in with the smaller buck’s, and used his weight to push the littler buck back till, in an attempt to avoid getting pushed into a tree trunk, turned his head and took the larger buck’s antlers to his ass. 

Still, they weren’t done sparring. 

The commotion had attracted the attention of yet another doe, who jumped a backyard fence to watch those bucks fight over her. I could tell that she was in estrus; she was alone and watching the bucks intensely with her tail up. Her presence made the bucks even more aggressive towards each other.

I was starting to shiver so badly that I couldn’t hold the camera steady. Trusting that the deer couldn’t care less about me, I got out of the Xterra and rested against the hood, aiming my camera at them like a rifle. 

Once again, the boys charged into each other’s antlers at full-speed. The click of their antlers echoed through the neighborhood like a gunshot. Grass and leaves went flying as the bucks struggled for dominance. With their antlers locked, the larger buck, once again, had the upper hand, and used his strength to bring the smaller buck to his knees. Finally, the littler guy conceded fully. He tucked his tail and bounded across the street, nearly running into someone’s parked car as the larger buck stood his ground, sniffing the air with his lip curled up.

“Better luck next time!” I called out to the smaller buck as I drove away, leaving the winner alone with his prize.