Nine young female mule deer formed a troupe and congregated on our property this morning, and Effie was not welcoming. She gathered a look like thunder in grey clouds. She stuck a menacing paw through the fence surrounding Effieland.
She has done this to Cat Halvor, who is close to twice her weight, and this morning she deployed The Look and The Paw and sent nine does hightailing it away and out of sight in a few seconds.
Good for Effie, defender of our grapes she understands are important! The grapes were well out of reach for the deer, but they turned tail and ran when Effie’s power paw came through the fence. The deer evidently had no sense that a fence kept them apart from Effie, as well as keeping them from the grapes.
This all happened as I watched through the window, and the deer were gone before I could fetch my camera. I have these photos from previous occasions.
Warning yowl directed at Halvor. . .
The Paw says she means it. “Does this look like Halvorland to you?”
I mean it. Any further questions?
Two mule deer fawns felt no need to retreat when I raised my camera to photograph them through our dining room window.
I looked up from folding laundry, and saw this serenely confident doe in our front yard. She waited for me to fetch my camera and take her photo through the window.
This little girl showed up all alone, apparently so we could fawn over her through our dining room window. . .
We walked this afternoon along Asotin Slough Trail, which runs adjacent to the Snake River, a couple of miles south of the city limits of Asotin, Washington. The setting sun cast its bright reflection in the ditch along the west side of the river; and, we felt most fortunate to observe three female mountain sheep on the basalt cliff bounding the river’s east side, visible in my husband’s photo below.
This buck is not dumb; he is a resourceful asylee. Buck hunting season is open, but not in subdivisions, of course (this is not always obvious to everyone), and specifically not up against our deck.
Filed under Animals, Nature
I know, I know: the rural subdivision in which we live encroached on her domain, and now tastier things grow here. But not content with the Great Basin Rye and other wholesome grasses growing on our couple acres, her troop consumes the fruit of our vines and trees, and the Bluebunch wheatgrass to its roots. Still, she looks so natural there, surveying the disputed landscape she reclaims each winter.