by Joe Hutto
Bucks showing true aggression.
With massive body proportions, a rut-swollen neck, and a magnificent head literally crowned in a lethal weapon, it is easy to incorrectly conclude that the mule deer buck is not just a formidable and intimidating fellow, but possibly an altogether violent and dangerous one as well. Indeed, on occasion, the mule deer buck is capable of a physicality and brutality that is almost unimaginable to most of us, in both the sheer power unleashed, and the unambiguous and immediate willingness to die. Lasting for only three tedious weeks, the rut is relentless, exhausting, and, for the most part, no damn fun for anybody. Bucks are rarely killed in fights but often suffer serious puncture wounds, and blindness is a common occurrence, as a sharp antler to the eye is nearly always unforgiving. Broken antlers can be seen on almost every competitive deer, and broken bones can even occur now and again. During the fall of 2012, we had three dominant bucks who were at least partially blind in one eye. Needless to say, an injury to both eyes is a death sentence.
Bucks are driven to distraction and can easily lose twenty hard-earned pounds a week as they struggle for days without food or rest. Does are pestered and aggravated. However, when actually settling on a mate, a buck and doe occasionally spend a congenial day or so together before the male is off to the next exhausting obsession that could be waiting somewhere out there in the sage brush. Mule deer bucks do not maintain a harem as bull elk do; rather, they just try to keep competitive males confined to a more peripheral status. During that period when a dominant buck is attending to a particular doe, various other does in the herd may become receptive simultaneously, and the rut then becomes more democratic as other males have opportunities to mate. Sometimes a doe may favor a certain male who has no seniority or authoritative status among the other males. He may just merely suit her fancy. Although the final preliminaries to mating can be somewhat flirtatious and coquettish on the part of the doe, with much pawing and head rubbing, the consummation appears to be a perfunctory affair, lasting less than a second.
As we observe the complex and convoluted reproductive behavior of many species, it is hard to see the biological advantages, and often these behaviors even seem to possess elements of the absurd. What can possibly be gained by the finest specimens of a species fighting to the death or achieving a state of irreparable and often fatal malnutrition and exhaustion? Why would we continually lose our finest bull elk and finest mule deer bucks as they become more vulnerable to the elements of starvation, disease, and predation? It is a well-substantiated fact that mortality is disproportionately high among those fine bucks and bull elk who have had rigorous and dominant breeding seasons, and they are much more likely to succumb to the hardships of winter than are females or subordinate males. The unavoidable but seemingly illogical message appears to be that the opportunity to mate once or, better yet, to be dominant for a single season is a fair biological exchange and worth the price of one’s life. It is easy for us to look at these bizarre and apparently maladaptive aspects of reproduction with sad fascination as we remark on the apparent waste and foolishness of a thoughtless animal. But, of course, in this case, the most applicable of all anthropomorphic analogies is human sexuality—it is the one thing that makes fools of presidents, kings, religious leaders, politicians, judges, and common folk alike: it is perhaps the ultimate source of all our undoing, regardless of species. Replication is the strongest and most powerful imperative in biology, often transcending both the instinctive and the conscious will to survive. Ultimately, it appears that we are all primarily obligated, like the salmon, to swim inexorably upstream toward the individual fate that awaits us.
Babe visiting the doe Brizby.
However, even though the mating and procreative experience is vital to mule deer, it occupies only a brief window of time in the life of these creatures, and the vast majority of their lives is spent in other pursuits and activities. Historically, observers may have overestimated the significance of the reproductive process as a component within the social life of this animal; there’s a lot more to mule deer society than their simple need to procreate. Mule deer mating season lasts just three weeks, and by mid-December, they’ve put an end to it and moved on.
In contradiction to all the frenetic activity of the mating season—all the aggression and hostilities—the mule deer buck is in fact a stolid and placid individual who is conservative in his activities, wishing only to live a peaceful and quiet existence among a few agreeable affiliates, and for most of the year, in fact, bucks are much less inclined toward rancor and hostilities than are their female counterparts. Bucks are quietly respectful of one another, perhaps because they have learned difficult lessons about the expense of violence and the disadvantages of animosity. Commonly, an enormous deer who was soundly defeated in battle and suffered severe injury will never recover emotionally from the trauma and thereafter will always abstain from hostilities with any other deer. All mule deer bucks bear the physical and emotional scars of enmity.
By the first of March, if mule deer bucks have survived the rigors of breeding and the subsequent exhaustions of winter, they begin losing their antlers. Older bucks tend to shed antlers slightly earlier than younger bucks do, and the suspected initiators of shedding include factors such as physical well-being, length of day, and the reduction in blood levels of certain hormones—especially testosterone. Having observed the shedding process and recorded specific shedding dates of particular deer over successive years, I have found it interesting to note that a particular shedding date of a buck is not a predictor of shedding in any other year. The date may vary by as much as a month. A buck in physical distress may shed earlier or retain his antlers weeks longer than other more healthy deer do. Reduced blood levels of testosterone and slow protein anabolism encourage resorption of bone at the zone between the cranial protuberance called the pedicel, and the actual antler, creating an interface that eventually separates the antler from the skull. Antlers rarely drop simultaneously, and it may take days for a second antler to fall. Large buck deer and especially large bull elk experience severe discomfort and disapproval with the loss of the first antler, which often comes as a great surprise, startling the animals when the drop occurs. They are immediately made aware of the strange and awkward asymmetry as powerful muscles are suddenly sent into spasm with the new and sudden imbalance. Veteran older bucks or bulls may immediately set about dislodging the remaining antler to relieve the stress. This is often the case when both shed antlers are found lying close by. Some individuals, usually younger males, may endure and adjust to the imbalance for hours or many days. Bucks are profoundly aware of their antlers, which, beyond mere weaponry, serve as prestigious visual reinforcements to their well-earned positions of status or authority. Bucks recognize, respect, and even fear the sight of a particular deer, not necessarily because of the size of his antlers, but because of who might be wielding them. Upon dropping his antlers, a buck’s relative status within a group of other bucks may hit the ground simultaneously, and clearly bucks are made resentful by their sudden vulnerability. With heads lowered and ears back, they become visibly worried and unhappy, and without question they are experiencing a grave disappointment that appears almost pitiful on occasion. Vendettas and old grudges that may have been percolating for months are now expressed as a subordinate buck with a lower status may grab the opportunity to express a little dominance and “herd” the recently humbled affiliate around for half a day. It is not uncommon to see a young spike or fork-horn showing a little arrogance to another buck who is two years older and heavier by fifty pounds. But this same spike may eventually get a sound and probably well-deserved trashing, even from a dominant doe, when he sheds his antlers.
Observing the rut. Photo by Dawson Dunning.
Chip suffering the price of enmity.
However, dominant herd bucks—master bucks—although normally characterized by a gentle nature are, nevertheless, prideful creatures, loath to relinquish their superior and hard-won pos
itions of authority. On one rare occasion, I observed such a master buck, with fresh blood dripping from the sockets of newly shed antlers, as he responded to the aggressive confrontation of a large but subordinate buck who was still sporting a full complement of well-developed weapons. With no possible protection, the master buck roared and initiated a full-blown death charge, hitting the deer broadside with such power and abandon that the subordinate buck was slammed backward and completely upended. The master buck was unharmed and walked away without an apparent scratch—unlike his unfortunate but heavily antlered opponent. A visible shudder of recognition went through the small audience of attending bucks, myself included, and no other attempt was made to question his absolute authority. Humility reigned supreme that day.
I have directly observed the shedding event on only two occasions—in other words, actually saw an antler hit the ground. On a third occasion, I happened to see a drop or two of fresh blood at the base of an antler belonging to Babe, then a four-year-old dominant buck. With a horse cookie in one hand as an inducement, I grabbed hold of the bloodied antler and gave it a little tug, and, to my great surprise, with a slight “click”—not a snap—it fell off in my hand. Babe found this sensation disturbing, and he ran a few feet away and looked back with curiosity and perhaps a certain level of disapproval. As he methodically shook his head and remaining antler slowly from side to side, I held out the antler, and after he assessed that nothing untoward had occurred, he came over, gave it a sniff, and casually walked away with apparent disinterest.
The author giving Babe’s antler a tug.
Shedding the first antler.
Shedding both antlers.
Stumpy examining his shed antlers.
On multiple occasions I have tried to elicit some level of recognition or any indication that a buck might find a freshly shed antler interesting or possessed of some significance. Mule deer bucks commonly view a shed antler—either theirs or another’s—with complete indifference. In contrast, I have seen antlered elk attempt to spar vigorously with a shed elk antler lying on the ground.
The following morning, Leslye noticed that Babe was completely antlerless and was able to recover the mate by backtracking his path up to the house through the snow. She walked to the bottom of the draw and followed a few splatters of fresh blood, and there was the antler.
When antlers are shed, they typically leave bloody sockets perhaps a quarter-inch below the level of the hairline. Blood may dribble down the sides of the buck’s head for an hour or so, and occasionally a deer’s bed may be found, either in snow or open ground, with a significant puddle of blood. But within six hours the sockets are completely dry, except in freezing temperatures, when fresh blood may freeze bright red until it can thaw and dry. Initially, however, the holes left by the shed antlers look like gaping wounds, and it is a little disconcerting to look down onto a deer’s skull. In a day or so, the sockets have scabbed over level with the hairline and no longer look like nasty injuries. In a matter of weeks, and corresponding to an increased level of testosterone in the blood, the antler bud begins to swell. In another month, the tender velvet antler has grown a few inches, and the buds of branching divisions become visible. At this time the antler feels warm and “velvety” in the truest sense. As the antlers begin to branch and bifurcate, they are already surprisingly rigid, although they are at all times vulnerable to disfiguring injuries. Older bucks in particular seem to be aware of the growing antler’s vulnerability and are noticeably guarded and protective as they navigate carefully around trees, rocks, brush, fences, and other similar bucks. Naturally, each successive set of antlers reflects the original, individual architecture of that particular deer, and a comparison of sheds from previous and successive years are clearly identifiable as belonging to a specific buck. But there may be significant differences in form beyond the predictable addition of mass as the individual matures and grows larger. Surprising differences can still occur from one year to the next, and an individual who had typically symmetrical antlers but with many incidental ancillary (or supernumerary) points in his fourth year may have predictably larger antlers the following year in the same “typical” form, but with no smaller ancillary points. Small mule deer brow tines have a tendency to come and go from year to year as well. So, a perfectly healthy buck may have a total of twelve or fourteen points one year and the following year have much larger antlers, but with only the typical five on each side. Often, however, some small peculiarity on an antler may be evident on a particular deer year after year.
The aging process and antler development in deer have been studied in great detail, and all healthy deer seem to experience a progression of larger and better developed antlers as they achieve adulthood. Antler growth and development tend to reach a peak in size and symmetry as the animal reaches his prime, and may then begin to wane in size and symmetry as the animal starts to age. In many populations of mule deer, the prime years may vary between seven and nine years, although in populations under ecological stress, this peak in development may occur as early as five or even four years. Indeed, it appears that some individuals in this population are starting to show some regression in overall antler development by their fifth year. However, it has been suggested that mule deer bucks can continue to grow throughout their entire lives, so antlers may continue to become more robust and massive, especially around the base, even though they may have less length in the beams and may have begun to lose some of the more distal bifurcation, resulting in fewer points.
Typically, yearling bucks will either grow a pair of “spikes”—an unbifurcated antler in the first year—or display a single bifurcation, known commonly as a fork-horn. Perhaps a third of yearlings will include a minor third tine on one or both of their first antlers. Contrary to popular belief, this initial configuration is no indicator of future antler growth in any individual, and absolutely no predictor of a deer’s possibility as a future “trophy.” Some landowners or hunt clubs “cull” their yearling spikes in a mistaken effort to improve their gene pool, when in fact they may well be culling out their potentially best deer. Indeed, long ago I was involved in an ongoing nutritional study in a large sample of five different species of deer that demonstrated that the configuration of the first antler was no predictor of future development.
Panda as a yearling. He’s now an older deer, but still continues to shed his antlers in early October, a month prior to the rut.
Additionally, there has been a misplaced emphasis on selecting for genetically superior deer based on “apparent” antler size, when in fact an overwhelming body of research has demonstrated that “trophy” deer, elk, red stag, and so on are far-and-away determined by, and the result of, outstanding nutrition, with less correlation to so-called “superior genetics.” That rare trophy deer, in most cases, is not a genetic anomaly but merely a healthy deer who, through ingenuity and luck, somehow managed to live into his prime. I would suggest that many lifelong hunters in this area of the West may have never actually seen a fully mature mule deer who has reached his prime. Most of the “monster” bucks that people report are simply those few individuals who have defied the odds and lived to be fully mature four-and-a-half-year-olds. If the superior genetics approach had validity, all deer would be exceedingly small and inferior, as the apparently finest deer are always selected out of the gene pool based on their trophy characteristics. In any given population, world-class nutrition will produce a world-class deer almost every time.
Stinky.
Three years ago, two gentlemen of advancing age who had received permission to hunt the adjacent ranch every year for more than two decades killed a deer just below our house. Hearing the shot, I walked with heavy heart to the location and introduced myself to the two. Brothers from out of state, they seemed like nice older men. Strangely, my only real recollection of the two, as they carved away on this deer, was how delicate and soft their hands appeared to be and how incongruous that seemed in this context. They politely asked if the
y might drive through my property to retrieve their deer, which was by now gutted and cut in half just behind the ribs. I saw that the two were already shaky and exhausted, and might not be able to climb out of the draw with a large deer, much less drag it to their distant vehicle. I said that they could drive around through our property and offered to help them load the buck. In an hour they were backing their pickup through the sage brush and in close to the deer. As we heaved the two halves into the truck, they described how they were lucky to break his pelvis with the first shot at three hundred yards, and then one of the men commented, “In twenty years this sure is the biggest deer I have ever killed. How old do you think it is—five, six?” I said, “I have known this deer since he was a spotted fawn. His name was Stinky. This was only his third set of antlers—I have all his previous antlers at my house.”
C H A P T E R F O U R T E E N
The World as Perceived by a Mule Deer