Mountain Man and City Girl

Everything I feared about Dolly appeared to be true.  As the dominant doe in our original group of four of West Virginia’s finest whitetail deer, it was basically up to her whether the the new outsiders would be accepted.  Would she share the corn feeder with the three new deer, plus the pair she’d already intimidated, or defend it for the exclusive use of her group?

I could only hope she would share.  There was plenty for her group – Ruthie, another three year old or more (and probably Dolly’s sister), plus their two yearlings Alfalfa and Darla.  I was quite optimistic considering that 50 pounds of corn was consumed from Monday night to Thursday morning.  I had watched the four deer for nearly a year and knew they could never eat that much in 60 hours.

Hopefully that meant that bossy Dolly was allowing the other five to feed.  She was tolerating it, though somewhat reluctantly no doubt. 

No chance.  Dream on.

Thursday evening, I returned home around 6:30, just an hour or so before dark.  Six deer startled as I pulled up the 300-foot gravel driveway, but they didn’t scamper right off.  They stood and stared me down, as if wondering whether I meant them any harm.  They sent me a message, “We’re hanging out.” 

I walked from my truck to the new pole barn under construction, never lifting my head to look the transfixed deer in the eye.  I checked out the progress on the barn, sneaking peeks now and then to see if the deer were still standing and looking at me.  They were.  This only happened once in a while in the past year – when they weren’t going to leave the feeder area for others to pillage.

I got into the log cabin and within 10 minutes the hill above the feeder proved to be a battleground for warring deer.  On two separate occasions, large does attempted to approach the trough full of corn.  Both times Dolly raised her front hoofs and made an aggressive display.  They backed off.  Two outlaw yearlings, in all their innocence, also made the mistake of approaching the feeder to eat.  They were easily and summarily rebuffed.

Dolly allowed Ruthie, Alfalfa, and Darla to eat as much as they wanted while she stood guard, her head held proudly and defiantly in the air.  I almost think she was forcing them to linger at the feeder and keep chowing down, just to show the other deer her contempt for them.  Several times the foursome appeared to be leaving the feeder area, only to suddenly turn and head back, led by you-know-who.

My hope is that the other five whitetail deer will sneak back from time to time throughout the night to feed.  Over the course of the next week, Dolly will begin to accept that she can’t defend the feeder 24 hours a day.  Let the others feed.  Have compassion for those three pregnant does, who, like you and Ruthie, will be giving birth in a month.  You’re all deer.  You’re all in this thing together.

Well, we’ll see if Dolly mellows out.  My fingers are crossed.

- Mountain Man

My solo visits from our home in Cape May, New Jersey to our log cabin in Green Bank, West Virginia have to be productive.  It’s these times, when City Girl stays behind to run the real estate business, that I must make progress on some of the many home projects I have underway.

I arrived in Green Bank this past Sunday, with a construction crew due Monday to build a 24′ x 32′ pole barn with metal sides.  They were scheduled to be finished by Friday.  It’s one of those companies I found on the internet that does everything but the concrete floor, which gets poured after they’re done and gone.  The barn-building folks are located just 88 miles from here, so it’s just about as local as it gets.

I was there to “supervise” and make sure that critical first-day decisions were made by me, since I tend to be somewhat of a perfectionist (some say “anal”).  And supervise I did on Monday, making sure everything was done to my satisfaction.  I had to locate bags of concrete for the crew by calling around to various supply stores, then helped pick them up.  But after that it’s pretty straight forward.  I wasn’t really needed, and I wasn’t just gonna stand there and watch them work.

To make effective use of my time, I had two local guys – my own “crew” – work with me on a tree clearing project.  I would run the chainsaw and they’d haul the cut firewood and brush.  We’d all done it together several times in the past year, so it was kinda routine now.  We knew our roles, and how hard we’d have to work to accomplish our task.  I could check in on the pole barn guys – foreman Duane, Norman and Clint – every once in a while and still run my own gig.  All five guys – my crew and theirs – are good guys and decent human beings.  What more can you ask?

We’re located in the Allegheny Mountains at an elevation of about 2,700 feet, or roughly a half mile.  So there is very little flat land – it’s all up and down and sidehill.  Cutting and hauling trees, mostly oaks, is a challenge.  The goal of this clearing was to open a view of the mountain to the east while also benefiting from more sun in the cold months.

Lew and Clinton – my guys – started work on Monday by covering a bed of shrubs with mulch, a leftover task from October.  Then they dragged all the brush I had created on my last visit in February to the burn pile.  Tuesday found us cutting and hauling for six hours.  The view was beginning to open up, but a few remaining strategic oaks still blocked the million dollar vista.

This morning, Wednesday, we tackled the last dozen trees.  Knowing it was due to start raining by noon and then rain the rest of the day and night, we hurried along.  By 11 o’clock, we were done.  Just as we walked into the cabin to get the guys their pay, the sky opened up.  We smiled a collective smile.

Meanwhile, the pole barn trio had a much less productive day.  Their usual late start combined with the rainout made the 88-mile trip over four mountain ranges almost not worthwhile.  But still, after three days, the barn is all framed out.  Tomorrow the roof will go on and the five windows will be installed.  I can’t wait to see the cupola and weathervane.  Friday the insulation and walls go up and they are finished.  A separate contractor comes one day next week to install the two garage-style doors.

Saturday, my crew, plus my main contractor Rich and sidekick Frank – will prepare the garage floor for concrete.  That entails leveling off the gravel and dirt floor, then tying rebar in a checkerboard pattern for extra strength.  We had planned on pouring the concrete on Monday or Tuesday, but with low temperatures expected to be about 20 degrees each morning that was out of the question.

By the time I head back to New Jersey on Sunday, the barn will be standing and lacking only the two cement trucks worth of concrete which we’ll tackle in two weeks when I return.  The breathtaking view of Sunrise Mountain, so named by me due to the sun rising over its peak on winter mornings, is ready for City Girl to admire and enjoy on her next visit.  All in all, my seven days in Green Bank will be remembered as satisfyingly productive.  As usual!

- Mountain Man

I arrived at our West Virginia cabin this past Sunday, March 16.  Now early afternoon Wednesday, March 19, the rain pours down and I sit reflecting on the events that have shaped the last three and a half days.  A lot has happened, which I’ll expound on in my next blog.

This is a story about the local white-tail deer that share our 19 acres.  Since moving into the cabin a year ago, we have come to recognize the individual deer.  The first regulars to the corn feeder we dubbed “Our Gang”.  There were two fawns, now yearlings, and two adult mothers.  We nicknamed the youngsters Darla and Alfalfa, and the mature mothers Dolly and Ruthie, for our own two mothers. 

We watched them interact, and quickly knew the pecking order.  It was Dolly, Ruthie, Alfalfa, then lastly, Darla.  After a few months, another mother and six-month old showed up.  They stood off 30 feet, waiting for Our Gang, the dominate group, to feed first.  When the two groups got real close to one another, it got tense.  Dolly would occasionally assert her authority with slashing hoofs.  Sometimes we’d see this new aloof pair around the feeder, and sometimes not for a while.  But it did bring the resident count to six deer.

Yesterday afternoon, the two work crews left around 4:30 after a good accomplishment day.  Ten minutes later I walked past the kitchen window and noticed three deer partway up the hill, guessing them to be from “Our Gang”.  Moments later, I looked up and saw another group coming in from a different direction.  My pulse jumped.

Discreetly, I peered out the windows and finally settled on there being nine deer.  The trough that holds the feed corn is six feet long, with accessibility from both sides.  As many as six deer at a time were munching on corn or licking the new apple-flavored salt block located in the trough at one end.  I was grinning ear to ear.  I couldn’t wait to tell City Girl.

I stood and studied this menagerie of white-tail deer.  There were four yearlings, three two-year olds, and two that were three years old or more – Dolly and Ruthie.  The two year olds have a more immature face, with the snout still not extended like the older deer.  I pondered these three two-year olds who would each be giving birth for the first time in about a month.  They wouldn’t be teenagers anymore!

Then I saw the big picture.  Dolly and Ruthie will each have a fawn, as will the three first-time mothers.  That means pretty soon there will be five new fawns – learning, exploring, and bonding.  That brings the local population to 13 deer.  How exciting!

But then I wonder – will they all stick around?  Will bossy Dolly share her domain or drive off the others?  There’s a mountain behind our property with a few hundred acres.  Surely, they share the mountain.  Can’t they share coming to the feeder?

My attention turns back to the five pregnant does.  Oh boy, new fawns are coming.  I’m as ready as an expectant father!

- Mountain Man