Significant snow hasn’t arrived yet, giving us a fleeting opportunity to appreciate the full palette of colors in late November landscapes. I love the stark contrasts and simplicity of these scenes.
I hoped to find turkeys, but this cold, dark and wintry morning found me sitting roadside, watching hundreds of geese foraging on waste grain in harvested fields. They’d probably been feeding for an hour or more so it wasn’t long before they left, en masse, to roost on a nearby reservoir. Their exit was deafening and seemingly chaotic; geese being geese.
The November rut is an exciting time for deer enthusiasts! It is a time when the wise expect the unexpected: deer running and crashing through the woods; testosterone-driven bucks moving erratically, unaware of their surroundings (including highway traffic); mature bucks, invisible for most of their adult lives, moving about at all hours of the day and night. Breeding activity, specifically the chasing and tending phases, appears to have peaked last week. We’ll see the results in about 200 days – when the fawns arrive.
Yearling buck searching for does on a frosty November morning
Young buck coursing through the woods, searching for a doe
2 1/2 year old buck scent-marking his territorial ground scrape
Same buck “tending” a receptive doe during her 24 hour estrous (site is a fenced pasture)
She might be at the end of her cycle because he didn’t breed her…
Instead, his attention was diverted by the sight/smell of does entering a nearby field
This guy is busy, with little time to eat! No wonder a buck can lose 25% of its body weight during the rut, especially when there are too many does in the herd
The November full moon rose above the tall spruce trees along the edge of the yard around 8:00 this evening. Standing on the porch to get a better look, maybe take a picture or two, I was reminded that a full moon is much more than a diversion for a shivering photographer. The entire natural world responds, in some way or another, as its brightness casts shadows into the night.
This evening the response was audible: a pack of coyotes howling and yipping on a hilltop a half mile northeast of me. The eerie, bone-chilling calls are mesmerizing, even frightening when close, but I love the wildness of it all.