The Winter Fawn

It was late December. James had been in that tree stand for hours with no signs of wildlife around. This was normal for hunting season. It was mostly just pick a spot with promise and wait for the deer to pass by. There was a spot under one of the pine trees across the clearing where a deer had scraped out the ground. If he waited long enough the deer was likely to return to bed down.

Eventually a bit of movement caught his eye. A rustle of the bare bushes by the edge of the clearing was followed by the sound of a twig snapping. He lifted his shotgun and prepared to aim as a doe stepped out of the trees. She was young, maybe two years old, but still some meat was better than no meat. She sniffed around the ground and then looked back over her shoulder as if waiting for something. James waited. That looks could mean there were more deer with her, possibly bigger deer. He watched closely to see what she was waiting for.

A few seconds later a small fawn stumbled its way out of the bushes. James lowered his gun. This shouldn't be possible. Fawns were born in late spring or early summer. This little one had to have been born in the last month or two. For a fawn to take that long to find a buck the area would most likely have to have been over hunted. With a sigh he unloaded the gun to prevent any accidental discharges and waited for a safe moment to come down out of the tree. Once she had her baby were safely tusked away under the tree with her, he quietly gathered his supplies and climbed down.

The feeling slowly returned to his number fingers and toes as he got home and put his hunting gear away. After a meal to fill his empty stomach, he started making calls to his friends. While it would be impossible to track down contact information for all the out of town hunters, he did want to inform the locals that the buck population for the area might be too low. They would most likely agree to hunt somewhere else for a few years to let the population come back up.

His buddy, Tate, was the only one being difficult about it. Then again Tate was difficult about most things. Anyone that gave him a reason not to do something would just be met with arguments.

"James, you're being paranoid. One little runt isn't proof of over hunting," Tate started with his usual skeptical attitude.

James sighed internally, "Maybe not definitive proof but if we ignore the very real possibility, we then run the risk of taking too many more bucks and the does have none left to breed with. No bucks means no fawns. No fawns means no meat."

"Don't you think you're reaching a bit on that? We checked the trails all summer. Low predator population. High level of deer activity," Tate argued back.

"There's been a lot of confirmed doe activity and signs that could go either way but when is the last time you saw a buck on those hills? I haven't confirmed even one this year," James was beginning to wonder why he even bothered calling Tate.

"Mikey got a deer up there last week," Tate offered.

"Mikey got a doe. Nobody has seen any bucks, not even on the trail cams," James corrected.

"That's not possible James. If there's not a single buck on those hills then how did the doe even get pregnant to start with," Tate wasn't giving up without poking as many holes in the logic as he could.

"She could have gotten desperate and wandered off the hills Tate. Think about it. There's at least five of us with trail cams all over those hills. Not one sighting of a buck and the doe had her baby extremely late," James gave a final push.

There was silence on the line for a moment while Tate finally slowed down to think over the evidence, "Okay. We'll hunt somewhere else for a few years. I'm leaving my cams up though. We start getting regular buck sightings, I'll let you know."

James smiled, "Sounds like a good plan."

Hunters like James valued being able to provide food for their families. Responsible hunters know to look for the signs that it's time to look for that meat in a different area for a while.