The Siltstone Trail in Jefferson Memorial Forest has a small section near the Scott’s Gap Rd. trailhead that is only twenty paces wide. What makes this section unusual is that this short width extends for many miles in length. It is what I like to call a power line cut; an area kept clear of forest for high tension power lines that extends to the highest point you can see in both directions, and beyond.
After hiking the entire 12 miles of the trail from Scott’s Gap Rd to the Welcome Center and then back, I was enjoying the last few minutes on the trail in some pretty glorious cool weather considering it was still August.
Approaching the cut from the shade of the forest, I saw across the clearing a yearling white tail deer, still showing spots in its light brown coat. The deer emerged from the trail opening in the opposite side of the forest, oblivious to my presence in the shade, and moved quickly heading toward the large hill that defined the North horizon in this section of the cut.
The key to experiencing deer in the forest all comes down to who sees who first. If the deer sees you first, you’ll most likely get a view of it’s white tail flashing as its haunches bounce away and over the next rise.
If you see the deer first, freeze.
After stopping, you should then move very slowly and deliberately as any sudden movement will spook the deer and off it will run. From my vantage point in the shade, I watched frozen in my tracks as the yearling almost pranced through the clearing, pausing to nibble at random greenery like a child looking through the kitchen cabinets for a secret stash of cookies. As it made its way through the clearing and started to head uphill, I lost sight of the deer in the high weeds.
I moved slowly into the clearing and turned to look for my yearling friend as it re-emerged from the weeds and continued grazing on the hillside. I quietly took out my camera and slowly raised my arm to begin taking pictures when the deer noticed my presence. Looking back at me with his ears now pricked up at attention, I thought it would only be moments before I saw it bounce twice and disappear in the treeline.
Yearling takes notice
To my surprise, it reversed course from where it stood and started to take cautious steps toward me rather than away from me. As it continued to walk downhill, the deer again disappeared in the high weeds and I walked a few steps forward to get a better view.
The yearling re-emerged from the weeds again almost at a full bouncing trot, spotted me immediately in the clearing and froze. It was only about 20 yards away and now, the stare down began. I again raised my camera slowly and started snapping pictures. The yearling, clearly curious, started to look back and forth moving its head and swishing its tail nervously. I could almost hear its thoughts as it looked at this sweaty animal wearing a green shirt and hat.
“What the heck is that thing?”
With only my digital camera extended, I continued snapping pictures, the noise of the shutter very audible in the almost still air.
And the yearling took another step towards me.
And then another.
Not knowing what to do at this point, I lowered my camera and just watched.
The yearling took two more steps in my direction, all the while staring at me, ears alert, evaluating all the data, and curiously unafraid. Almost within 10 yards of me now, it side-stepped into taller grass and began a slow circular skirting path in my direction. Coming forward and maintaining its minimal distance, I slowly raised my camera again to snap pictures, expecting each shutter noise to be the last moment I would see the animal as it darted into the trees.
Still curious
But still it lingered, oblivious to me snapping pictures. At this point, having shared the last few minutes with my new pal, I had that silly human moment where I thought that any wild animal not afraid of me is tame, so I spoke to it.
“Hey there fella” I said in a soothing and soft high voice. The yearling came to attention, and looked at me strangely, with its ears pointed at the sound of my voice. “How you doin’?” I clearly recall saying out loud.
It didn’t bolt.
It calmly licked its muzzle and I noticed the shine on its wet nose. Details sprang forth and I saw how thick its coat was, the pattern of spots on its side and the long whisker hairs around its mouth. It swished its tail again nervously and lowered its head to nibble grass. It raised its head again and looked directly at me, still wondering what I was.
Still frozen, I raised my camera again and took pictures.
Behind me, I heard a breeze begin to rustle through the grass and felt it hit my sweat, cooling me in the warming sunshine. The yearling suddenly dashed into the woods.
In the blink of an eye, it had gone and I heard the crunch of leaves only twice as it bounded away in the shade and disappeared.
“Gotta go!”
On the breeze, I smelled the smoke of an outdoor fire.
I don’t think I scared off my friend in the woods, but I certainly enjoyed my 10 minutes in the sunshine with my new pal. So much so that the 6 hour/12 mile hike I had just completed seemed like an afterthought.
With a newfound bounce in my step, I drank some water from my Camelbak drinking tube and proceeded on toward my car in the Scott’s Gap parking area.
Just another great day in the forest.
