Susquehanna Meditations: Young Bucks

Young Bucks

The bachelor groups of spring and summer start breaking apart.  Except among the yearlings, snorting competition trumps docile cooperation, the antlers thicken and harden, the testosterone levels increase.   It’s the way of males.  Hormones -- not yet in full rage but percolating for sure. 

Initially it is friendly sparring.  Playground sparring, scuffling, jostling, wrestling.  Boys will be boys. A push, a shove, a head butt, discovering what these growing antlers are meant for.   Hey, look at me, I’m king of the hill!  Let’s wrestle!  Let’s race to see who’s fastest, who can jump the highest, who is strongest?  Boys will be boys.   Rough play sets you up for the real thing. 

Yes, we’re talking about young bucks, White Tail bucks.  

One by one the bachelor group breaks apart, the older boys going their separate ways to discover how to earn the right to become adult males. 

It’ll take about one and a half years.  Born late spring, the white spots of the fawn making it better to hide, and a year goes by cared for by mom.  The next summer it is time to hang out with the boys.  Come fall, it is time to paw the ground and set out on your own.

And then go nuts.

Yes, we’re talking about young bucks, White Tail bucks.

Rough play turns serious, the play can turn deadly.  Testosterone levels rise much higher, aggression level higher.  This is my territory.  These are my acorns.  Get out!  Go away!  You want to fight me!  Alright then, anything goes.  Antler to antler, hoof to hoof. 

Look at me.  My antlers are bigger than yours.  I’ve eaten well.  I’m strong.  I’m stronger.  I’m healthy.  I’m healthier.  My glands rich, ruddy.  She’ll want me instead of puny you.  My antlers have more points than yours.   She’ll want me, you runt.  You better run.  Do run because I’d rather not fight so I can save my energy for the does. 

These are my does.  All mine. 

Yes, we’re talking about young bucks, White Tail bucks.

And then the rutting rage kicks in. 

An ejaculatory, copulatory jump.  Try again over there.   There too, if I can catch her.   All those young does running off, leaping, bounding, to get away from the bucks.  The older bucks sneering at the younger inept ones.

Only one thing matters:  as many does as I can as often as I can.

Yes, we’re talking about young bucks, White Tail bucks. 

What was that noise?  I don’t know and I don’t care.  Did you see that fellow over there?  What fellow?  The fellow with a gun.  Didn’t notice him.  Got other things on my mind.  Eyes rolled back.  No mind left.  It’s all hormones.  Eyes rolled back, nostrils flaring, smelling, catching scent, scraping, urinating, marking. 

Grunt, grunt.  Tap tap tap uh uh uh. 

Grunting, grunting. 

Was that a doe’s bleat?  She wants me.  Estrus for her, invitation for me.  She can gestate over the winter and spring and then give birth.  I’ve done my part. 

No time to eat.  No time to drink.  No time to rest.  

Can do all that afterwards. 

Rutting season and going nuts.  The rutting rage. 

Can eat, drink, and sleep and all that after the antlers fall off in December. 

Yes, we’re talking about young bucks, White Tail bucks.