DEER AND SMALL DOGS
The temperature in the Cove was approaching 90 degrees, so I needed a full-proof plan to ensure a successful evening of photography. In summer, deer normally feed during the first few hours of daylight before retiring to their beds to wait out the high mid-day temperatures. On especially hot days it is difficult to predict when deer will show themselves in the evening. Some forsake the coolness of their afternoon beds while there is still plenty of workable light remaining, while others wait until just before sunset to make an appearance. Unfortunately, even the spots where deer feed almost every evening can not be counted on to produce deer under these conditions. Usually deer will appear in these locations. It's just a question of when.
So I decided to begin the evening in search of bear. The night before I had seen five bear in a blackberry patch west of Hyatt Lane. I figured that if I could not ferret out any bear in the blackberries, I would turn my attention to the deer that also feed in this area. Either way I would not waste the nice evening light that was sure to follow the beautiful but warm afternoon.
I made several passes along the edge of the blackberry patch without seeing any bears. Even when bears are in the blackberries, it is not always easy to see them because of the dense cover. Often, I hear the bear moving through the cover or see the vegetation move before I actually see the bear itself, but the berry patch was still and silent. Momentarily my hopes rose when a doe broke from the cover and bounded across the field. A few minutes later two young bucks raced from the opposite side of the drainage. Something moving through the cover had alarmed the deer, but I could not determine the source. I waited a half-hour more and still saw no sign of a bear. If it had been a bear that alarmed the deer, I suspected that it had bedded, or else it had sensed my presence and had moved off in the other direction. Although a few of the bear in the Cove seem to be somewhat acclimated to people, I have run in to several that were not very tolerant of me. Because the evening had not proven especially productive, I decided to execute the second part of my plan by turning my attention back to whitetails.
As I began to look for deer in the fields around me, I saw a doe and one of the small bucks that had been pushed from the fence row earlier. Both deer still seemed a bit on edge and soon moved out of the area, and so I headed north of the Loop Road. Two doe fed in the shadows of the hillside, and a lone doe came out of the woods and moved into the light. For a moment I considered staying with the doe for the rest of the evening, but I knew the sun would soon disappear behind the steep west ridge at my back. Before I had a chance to consider the situation any further, the doe made the decision for me as she bedded in a section of chest high grass. Knowing that sunlight would continue to warm the east end of the Cove for about an hour after it was gone from this area, I headed back to the road.
When I reached the road, I once again looked for deer in the fields around the berry patch, but I saw none. Feeling a bit frustrated as I considered the possibility that I might not find a deer to photograph before the light disappeared, I decided to get in the car and continue around the loop. About forty-five minutes of workable light remained. Photographing whitetails, even in the Cove where they are abundant, does not come with a guarantee. But experience has taught me that success often comes down to perseverance. So I forced myself to keep searching for an opportunity. As I continued around the Loop, I saw only a few deer and none were in suitable light or desirable locations.
It was after seven when I passed Sparks Lane. I had resigned myself to the fact that I might not take a single frame that evening, when suddenly the traffic in front of me stopped. I could see the parking spaces next to the last field that touches the Loop Road before it exits the Cove. I suspected that there was a bear off in the timber opposite the parking area. Bear sightings often account for such traffic jams. Slowly, the line of cars inched up the grade toward the parking area. As I reached the first parking space and looked to the left, I could see a set of velvety tines floating above the tall grass about twenty-five yards from the road. It took me less than a minute to pull into the second parking space, mount a camera on my tripod, grab an extra roll of film, and head into the field. About twenty-five minutes of soft, slightly diffused light remained. Once again I felt a bit anxious. I had to get into position as quickly as possible, but I didn't want to alarm the deer. Fortunately, he was more interested in feeding and paid little attention to my advances.
In fact, after I was in position he fed so intently that I now had another problem. I needed a stationary subject. He would raise his head for just a moment then quickly lower it to get another mouthful of grass. Now I had a deer in front of me, illuminated by a very pleasing evening light, but I did not have enough shutter speed to stop his quick motions. I was tempted to make a sound to attract his attention, but such a tactic usually only serves to alarm the animal. Actually, a slightly alarmed deer was exactly what I needed, but I did not want to be the source of the alarm.
As I watched the deer feed with his head buried in the tall grass, I once again entertained the possibility that the evening might end differently from what I had hoped. Then to my surprise I heard a shrill yapping sound off in the distance behind me. It sounded like someone was driving across Sparks Lane holding their excited poodle out the window. Although it came in an unexpected package, that was the magic I needed at that moment. In response to this sound the buck lifted his head and stared in the direction of Sparks Lane. At first only his jaw moved as he chewed a mouthful of grass, but soon he became completely motionless. Statue-like, the buck stared in my direction. As he maintained his position, I finished one roll of film and began another. Eventually, he resumed feeding and I returned to the parking area.
From the parking area, I watched the sun set and reflected on the events of the day. Hope and frustration had jockeyed for position throughout most of the afternoon. All the efforts of the last few hours had come down to one last opportunity, to just a few minutes, and even then it took something completely unexpected to bring it all together. Nervous little dogs had not been part of my full-proof plan.
