Looking in the Wrong Places

Run for your lives. The killer deer are coming.

Montana’s general big game season ended this week leaving a lot of hunters with unfilled mule deer tags. Wildlife officials say there’s been a drop in the statewide muley population for the last three years.

I think they’re all just looking for deer in the wrong places.

Try my yard in Livingston, my cabin on Fort Peck or the entire town of Malta where some folks have begun to fear for their lives.

“Is it going to take someone getting killed for you people to do something about the deer?” a worried resident asked the mayor.

Chances are slim that anyone will actually get killed by a deer unless they’re driving — humans not deer —then the odds go way up. More than 400 people a year die following collisions with deer on the nation’s roadways.

But it’s the pesky mule deer roaming the streets of Malta that have folks worried.

During my daily walk last spring a minivan came to a screeching halt just feet from me.

“Didn’t you see that deer?” the driver, a middle-aged woman, asked. “It was coming for you.”

“No I didn’t,” I replied, turning to watch a fork-horn buck nonchalantly grazing on shrubbery in the front yard of a house across the street.

I thanked the lady for saving my life before resuming my walk.

I will admit to some close encounters with city deer, but never have I felt threatened. They are deer, after all, not wolves or bears.

A shout or a wave of the arms and they usually flee.

A few small dogs in town have been kicked and rolled, but I suspect they had it coming. Larger dogs, which would typically scare off the deer, are no longer allowed to roam free in town. Consequently, the deer are seldom hassled, and have become quite comfortable here.

Were they whitetails, we wouldn’t have this problem. They eat much better than muleys. A lot of those backyard deer would vanish, reappearing as little white packages in the freezer.

I’ve shot enough deer over the years that I suppose some retribution on their part is justified. At the lake they walk up on the patio and look in the windows. In Livingston they bed next to the house. In Malta they hide behind the caragana, then jump out and scare people.

I suspect they’re just biding their time, waiting to strike. We’ve got it coming.

Parker Heinlein is at [email protected]