I was walking along the path at Yosemite Village recently, and even though it was the off-season, throngs of tourists passed by, speaking a United Nations of different languages. It was the kind of warm, comforting autumn day that we take for granted as Californians.

 

Ahead of me, I noticed a group of visitors standing around a small island of saplings and brush rising out of the pavement. As I got closer, I saw a buck standing in the foliage rubbing his antlers against the vegetation. We stood just a few feet away in silent awe, with only the sound of snapping cameras — but the buck was totally oblivious to his audience. Then he stopped and without looking at us, ambled up the pavement, tourists parting before him like the Red Sea.

 

Later, when I got home to Boulder Creek, I called Jeff Cann, regional wildlife biologist for the Department for Fish and Game. He told me that deer rub their antlers like that during mating season to establish their territory and dominance over fellow bucks.

 

In fact, these little areas are called “deer rubs,” and the males will go back to the same place every year. If you have seen some mysteriously damaged foliage on your property, you may be the proud owner of an annual deer rub.

 

So, who exactly is that deer frozen in your headlights? Many different types of deer roam California, but the ones who call our valleys and mountains home are Columbian black-tailed deer.

 

Their range spans from British Columbia in the north to south of Santa Cruz County along the Pacific Coast. Like mule deer, the black-tail’s enormous ears dwarf their small faces and, as they listen for danger, they can swivel each ear separately.

 

Unlike in some places, our deer do not have to migrate in the winter to avoid heavy snows, so if you typically have black-tails where you live, you can probably recognize the families. A family usually consists of an alpha doe, her sister or daughter and last year’s fawns. Young bucks, called spikes, are driven out of the family by the alpha doe when they are between 16 and 18 months old.

 

Of course, our drought has caused more deer to roam in search of water and food. I’ve begun to put out not only salt licks, but also a big pail of water for my local deer families.

 

And as for the road-warriors: Raging testosterone not only causes bucks to rub their antlers, but also to leave their usual good sense behind and run through the forest and onto our roads chasing females. Sometimes females also end up as fatalities.

 

I remember a beautiful fall day walking along a mountain road close to my home, enjoying the solace of the forest with my dog. I began to hear a humming sound, which became a loud roar as I continued into the mountains. As I walked, I could smell something sickening and sour. As I turned the bend, there on the side of the road I discovered the decaying corpse of a beautiful black-tailed buck being savaged by flies.

 

Although we are coming to the end of rutting season — you have probably seen carcasses along Highway 17 and Highway 9 — we still need to be vigilant on the road. According to a just-published report by the Highway Loss Data Institute, fatalities from car crashes with deer and other animals have more than doubled over the past 15 years. 

 

State Farm Insurance Co. has estimated 1.2 million claims for crashes with animals during the year ending in June 2008. November is the deadliest month nationwide.

 

Important Numbers to keep in your glove compartment for animal emergencies:

 

Native Animal Rescue, 426-0726, for injured small animals, birds, and reptiles

 

Santa Cruz County Animal Services, 454-7303, for most animal emergencies and other related services

 

Caltrans, 423-0396, for animals on state property and highways

 

Scotts Valley Public Works, 438-5854, for animals on SV public property and roads

 

California Department of Fish and Game, 649-2934; Janine Dewald, Santa Cruz County wildlife biologist, for information on wildlife