Two bucks

PLEASE DO NOT FEED THE DEER I've seen that brown and white sign all over the deer refuge out at Hope. It reminds me that I've been guilty.

Yes, we've often taken visitors out to the Hope Peninsula to see the hundreds of deer who inhabit yards, pastures, resorts, beaches and hillsides---virtually everywhere in the area where David Thompson and his buddies built that first structure in Idaho back in 1809. Before the brown signs went up a year or so ago, we've fed the deer. They'll eat just about anything you offer them, at least they used to. Cookies and chips always worked.

During the feeding process, a camera usually clicked as someone had slowly, quietly stepped out the opposite door and, with deerlike cautious and careful gait, moved into position to snap photos of hands with goodies reaching outside the side window, meeting up with shiny black noses at the ends of outstretched necks. I'm sure everyone who's ever visited the Hope Peninsula has their own collection of pictures.

We even have some photos where deer and turkeys co-mingled near one pricey estate. Nobody seemed to be home, so the critters had taken over the premises for the winter. On that day, we learned that some North Idaho deer and turkeys have very good taste when it comes to selecting habitat. Nobody told them, though, that if the owners were home, the handouts might be a heckuva lot better, or maybe not. Maybe the owners would just send them on down the road to mooch off the next high-priced estate.

Whatever the case, we enjoyed the moment of seeing Tom Turkeys and Bambis enjoying the same space as one big happy family. And, they didn't even charge to have their pictures taken. I don't know what eating habit changes have occurred with the Hope deer population since the brown warning signs went up. Could be soon that a whole new generation may not even know how to beg.

I've learned, however, that deer are smart. They learn quickly where the good eats can be found. I've made that observation in less than 48 hours. On Sunday I was telling Bill about the place along the winter stream down in the back woods where the deer prefer to drink. I'd gone snowshoeing past the spot and noticed dozens of tracks in the area where ice had been broken and water was flowing freely.

I suggested that the area may be a good spot for putting out deer corn. Bill had already purchased a deer block this past summer. So far, the block remains almost untouched except for a gradual deterioration from rain and a one-time meeting with Casey's front hoof. Nary a deer has touched the mineral block. He had placed it under the big Ponderosa where every morning for several days a doe had stood in the pasture eating. The day after the block appeared, the doe walked over to it, sniffed it and disappeared. We eventually moved it to the woods, where it's still remains safe from deer tongues.

As we talked, I considered going to town for some deer corn. I suggested that we put some near the watering hole and just across the south lawn fence where we could watch out the windows. It was obvious Bill liked the ideas because he encouraged me to not waste a minute and go get the feed. At the CO-OP Country Store, they sold me some deer corn and told me deer pellets were on sale.

"Why not?" I said. Within an hour, I'd found a home-crafted feed box and had dumped in a mixture of the pellets and corn. Kiwi accompanied me as I took it to a spot just south of the satellite dish. Yesterday morning, I checked in the darkness and thought I could see tracks around the box. It also looked like some of the feed was missing.

I told Bill about the discovery but suggested that it was possible Kiwi had remembered and gone to sample the goods. We both held hope that it might have been a deer. Just after Bill left, I finished my blog, walked downstairs, and there he was, nibbling away, constantly vigilant of potential intruders. He was safe because the dogs hang out in the garage on the north side of the house. I watched him out the front window for about five minutes. In that time, I named him "Pointer," for his two small points on the antlers. I also started a deer log on Bill's desk, noting that this young buck was as fat as a pig.

I have a feeling that Pointer knows the deer-friendly stops in the neighborhood. He doesn't look like he's missed any of them along his way. Later, at Bill's office I told his colleague Don Lyon about Pointer. Raising his eyebrows a bit, Don admonished me.

"Did Bill tell you about my buck?" he asked.

"No," I said.

"Well, he had an unusual set of huge antlers, and I fed him for a long time," Don told me. "He was like a friend, just like a dog. I could almost walk up to him. Then, someone shot him this fall. So, you'd better be prepared."

We all know reality when it comes to wild animals, but we also know the joy of watching them when they're unaware of anyone's presence. So, we make the choice, and, if the amount of deer corn and deer pellets that go out of the CO-OP are any indication, I'd say there are a lot of us around here who will not feed the deer on the Hope Peninsula, but with our backyard friends, it's a whole different story.

I think we're in for some wonderful viewing treats, especially after an experience last night, a full moon night when I couldn't get to sleep. I got up in the darkness, walked into the living room, and there they were: two bucks, both with tiny points on their antlers, one wandering and snooping around the front yard, the other nibbling from that box, ever vigilant.

It could be, as time goes on with this deer feeding near the front yard, the bucks will add up.

And, they won't be in my pocketbook. Now, I'm going to go downstairs to see if we have three bucks this morning.

It's GAME day: GO STAGS!----oops, I mean ZAGS! Gonzaga vs. WSU at 7 p.m. PST