by Lisa Epple
They were likely always around here somewhere, carefully hiding themselves away deep in the woods. We’d catch a brief glimpse of a superior physical specimen once or twice a year, albeit only for a moment, and always from a far distance. Perhaps it’s the unprecedented, unrelenting heat and humidity this summer which has dulled their senses a bit and brought them out into the open. Or maybe this is just a particularly fearless group of individuals. Whatever the reason, this is the first year we’ve seen really large white-tailed bucks regularly in our yard.
The little guys with their tiny beginner’s sets of antlers are a common enough sight. Once, we were even treated to a pair of young bucks with more prominent headgear playfighting in broad daylight on the front lawn. But the really big boys are careful to remain concealed, even when it’s not hunting season.
In all the years I’ve lived here in rural Virginia, I’ve only seen one King of the Forest. It was early morning on a gray and gloomy day, at that time of year when winter isn’t quite over and spring hasn’t fully arrived, and the fog was rolling in. More precisely, the fog was slowly drifting down the narrow country lane like a ghostly serpent, otherworldly and silent, held low to the ground by the trees overhanging the asphalt.
Visibility was minimal, so I drove my car slowly down our empty winding road. Around the second blind corner, standing like a statue in the middle of the street, a huge white-tailed buck was suddenly staring into my headlights. Incredibly stately and handsome, he was solidly built with a broad chest and a magnificent crown of many-tined antlers. This was truly the King of the Forest.
I stopped the car just a short distance away, but he didn’t move. He didn’t seem particularly startled, and he certainly wasn’t afraid. The buck just stood there calmly and looked at me (or more properly, my car) for a while. Then, he stamped his front hoof. I inched the car forward slightly in response. Finally, the buck took a couple of graceful steps off the pavement onto the grassy shoulder, and just melted away into the mist.
I looked for him every day after that, and for years afterwards, but I never saw him, or anything like him, again. Until this summer.
Two handsome fellows with well-grown antlers became regular visitors to our property, mixed in with the usual groups of does and fawns. We were excited to see such fine examples of their species. And then a new King of the Forest casually strolled into the backyard one evening, easily outshining them both. He was at the back of a group of about ten animals, following the rest of the deer as they grazed their way leisurely across the lawn. When he lifted his head high to better survey the surroundings, I took one look and ran to get my cell phone and snap a picture.
A very impressive and worthy successor to the buck in the mist, he obliged me by standing apart from the group and striking a noble pose, holding it long enough for a pretty good photo. He walked slowly and confidently, turning himself this way and that, allowing us to fully admire him from behind the curtains. Shakespeare’s Henry IV said, “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown,” but this photogenic fellow seemed quite relaxed and wore his large crown of beautifully symmetrical antlers proudly.
The buck left the nervous watching entirely to the lady deer while he nosed lazily amongst the pink myrtle bushes. The fawns played their games all around him and sometimes got in his way, but he tolerated them with majestic benevolence. He seemed like a really nice guy. We felt honored that he chose to linger for so long, and watched him until he wandered off into the woods with his companions.
We were thrilled to see him again a few days later. This time, the buck came alone with just a single fawn for company. The spotted baby laid down in the grass while he grazed around it. However, this idyllic scene didn’t last long before they quietly disappeared into the bushes.
As much as we enjoy seeing him, we hope this delightful gentleman will take more care to hide himself once hunting season arrives. We’d like to see him again next summer.
photo credit: Getty Images, Unsplash
Lisa Epple is a refugee from Wall Street and suburban New York, living in semi-peaceful exile in rural Virginia, surrounded by deer and assorted other woodland creatures. She enjoys observing and writing about the wildlife that visits her backyard. This is her first published piece.