Select Page
Teen Deer Hang Out

Teen Deer Hang Out

Teen Deer Hang Out

Oh, deer! If the current trend continues, our neighborhood is going to get a bad reputation. Why? Because our front yard is becoming a teen deer hang out. Every day, after school is dismissed at White Tail High, the students hightail it to our lawn like teenagers bound for the mall.

Be warned, and don’t get in their way.

First, they head for the diner out front and have a bite to eat. Then they slouch on over to the big maple tree, put in their antler buds, and listen to Alvin and the Chippunks on their iPods.

They think they look so cool.

On weekends, they hang around the yard all day long. One night, their parents showed up about supper time. They kept circling the perimeter of the yard, but the street parking must have been full because they didn’t march in and drag their kids home.

What were they thinking?

You’d think they’d want their kids home and out of the cold in the middle of winter. But if Fawn and Bambi mess in their bedrooms like they do in the diner, Big Buck and Mama Doe may be relieved to have the kids raising Cain somewhere else.

So how did our yard get designated Teen Deer Hang Out?

Who knows? For now, I’m jiggy with it, but if they start listening to the sound track of West Side Story and tatooing their fur with the emblems of the Shark and Jets, I’m calling the deer patrol. The real estate market’s bad enough without rival gangs laying claim to the ‘hood and driving down home values.

What’s with fawns these days anyway?

Twitterpated Bucks Are Busting Out All Over

Twitterpated Bucks Are Busting Out All Over

Bambi’s Disney dad was an absentee father. How do I know this? Because during my morning walks this week, more twitterpated bucks than I could shake a stick at have crossed my path. And believe me, the gleam in their beady eyes made me wish for a stick to shake at them!

But back to Bambie’s absentee big buck daddy. If Pops been around, Bambi wouldn’t have needed to ask a wise old owl to explain the meaning of twitterpated.

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JXBbgzQmpJw[/youtube]

As the video clearly shows, owls get twitterpated in spring. But deer get twitterpated in the fall, which Bambi would have known if his father had been around to serve as a role model for his cute little boy.

I’m neither a deer nor a member of the male gender. But during my walks, the deer in my town are making it perfectly clear that November is their twitterpation month. Like this young buck that keeps strutting across our lawn several times a day.

Or this big fella who chased the doe at the top of the page across the walking path in the park and then hid in the woods. He was torn between wanting me to take a picture of his big rack and following the does sashaying around him.

I know he really wanted to have his picture taken because he stood still until I got a good shot of the back of his rack, too.

The camera was at home the morning when a fairly young guy, with one broken antler and one intact, pranced in the park. And the camera was home this morning when 3 more bucks–one the same size as Mr-take-my-picture-while-I-act-modest, but not as battle-scared–engaged in a stare down.

Dumb bucks they may be this time of year, but maybe not as dumb as they look. After all, these twitterpated gents are smart enough to strut their stuff within city limits where hunters aren’t allowed.

So I’m predicting a bumper crop of Bambis next spring. With daddies smart enough to stay close to home and out of harm’s way. Which means it’s time to collect sticks and practice shaking them. No way do I want to be mistaken for a come-hither-look doe next November.