No creature is more interesting, or more mysterious, than the white-tailed deer. And no state is more fascinating than Minnesota when considering the behaviors of these animals, in part due to the vastly different landscapes that dominate the state, north to south and east to west.
Whitetails in farm country near Worthington, for example, while bearing many similarities to those that roam the woods near the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, in many ways live entirely different lives than their North Woods counterparts.
Up north, day and night, deer must worry about being attacked by wolves. Bears also are a concern, because they kill fawns in spring. Also, every winter, deep snow and extreme cold waylay a varying percentage of the state's northern herd, whereas whitetails in the south, where weather is considerably milder, are less vulnerable to seasonal highs and lows.
Yet this week, as the peak of the whitetail's breeding season approaches, wherever these critters roam, their habits, customs and routines will be more similar than different.
Hunters who will be afield Saturday when the 2019 firearms deer season opens will witness firsthand these common seasonal behaviors, the most intriguing of which are those of the bulked-up and love-crazy male of the species — the rutting white-tailed buck.
Consider:
• Because bucks are generally ready to breed before does, beginning about mid-October they start traveling farther and wider than usual looking for the odd female in early estrus (ready to breed). Does also disperse more widely at this time, which explains why vehicle-deer accidents have increased in recent weeks.
• As Bill Marchel notes in his accompanying story about rubs and scrapes, a buck's first whacks at saplings and brush occur in summer as his antlers harden and he spars with trees to remove antler velvet. Velvet-covered antlers are rarely, if ever, seen during Minnesota hunting seasons. But hunters who kill such animals elsewhere must follow a detailed process to preserve the velvet, or it will rot. In Alaska in August, my son Trevor and I and two of his buddies each shot caribou on a do-it-yourself hunt. Each of the animals was in velvet, and to avoid its decomposition, we peeled it off with knives.