November 14, 2014 Monster Bucks
November is the peak of the breeding season, or rut, for white-tailed deer. These two monster bucks lost their lives in an epic battle for dominance in a St. Charles woodland.
Monster Bucks.
The phrase sounds like the name of a new Illinois Lottery game. Or maybe the title of horror movie about a mad scientist who tinkers with reanimation, and antlers.
In this case though, the term “monster bucks” refers to large, male white-tailed deer–two of them, to be exact, accompanied by a sensational set of circumstances that came to involve several park district staff, a IL Department of Natural Resources Conservation Police officer, a knife, a bow saw and, ultimately, a backhoe.
The story began last Saturday morning, when a group of coworkers and volunteers happened to notice what appeared to be a deer carcass in a wooded area maintained by the St. Charles Park District. Closer examination revealed that the mass was actually two bucks, their antlers inextricably locked together.
Signs around the remarkable scene indicated a battle of epic proportions preceded the deer’s demise. Plants were uprooted, dried leaves pushed aside and bare soil was exposed in several large patches. Clumps of the animals’ thick winter coats–most notably the long, hollow guard hairs-were strewn about as well. A few of these hairs probably dropped off as a result of the bucks’ exertions, but I’m sure the majority fell when the site was first discovered, not by my colleagues, but rather nature’s first responders: coyotes.
We’ll never know for sure whether the ‘yotes showed up as the battle waned and one or perhaps both bucks were lying down exhausted, or whether they came after one buck died and the other was left to maneuver as best he could with a 300-lb. former adversary locked to his head. Dead tired or plain dead, either way the two magnificent beasts became easy pickings for Canis latrans. The best parts of the deer–the rump, round, shanks and flanks were torn away, leaving only small amounts of muscle and connective tissue clinging to the rear leg bones.
Grisly? Yes. Oddly fascinating? Undoubtedly. Those of us who gathered there in the woods couldn’t help but stare in awe at the size of these two monsters. Deer hunters we’re not, but we knew enough to count the points on the antlers–14 on one, 17 on the other, including one long and thickened tine that no doubt led to the bucks’ demise. Shaped like a shoehorn, it pointed downward; when wrapped around an opposing tine it created a lock between the two that simply could not be undone.
In a perfect world, these fallen warriors would have been left to decompose naturally, their meaty components nourishing other woodland creatures and their bones supplying minerals to rodents and soil alike. But St. Charles, though idyllic, isn’t perfect. The last thing we wanted was to have poachers come along and saw off the antlers, which have considerable value among those who fancy such things. And so we made the decision to harvest the racks ourselves, with the aim of one day having the skulls and antlers as the centerpiece of a Monster Buck display at Hickory Knolls.
We faced only one, tiny obstacle: We had no idea of what to do next.
We did have one tool though, and we weren’t afraid to use it. I whipped out the device—my cell phone– and started making calls.
The first was to our esteemed colleague, Valerie Blaine. Nature programs manager at the Forest Preserve District of Kane County, and also a hunter, Valerie would know what needed to be done. As luck would have it, her husband Rod Campbell, a hunter safety instructor with the IDNR, was with her, and the two of them laid out our plan of action.
Step One: Call the IDNR Conservation Police. (Good-to-know info… Illinois has 140 Conservation Police Officers, all of whom enforce game and fish laws, boat safety, timber regulations, and drug and traffic laws in our state’s 102 counties. Basically, that’s not a lot of staff for an awful lot of territory. If you ever need to get a hold of one of these hardworking law enforcement officials, call 911 and ask to be connected to the IL State Police dispatch. Explain your circumstance and, so long as it’s not an emergency, you will be asked to leave your phone number. A CPO will contact you shortly.)
That day, we received a call back in about 20 minutes, and CPO Keith Siedsma arrived about 20 minutes after that. We met him near the road, then walked him back to The Scene.
Even with his years of experience, Officer Keith was amazed at the sight that laid before him. As we collectively marveled once again at the size of the bucks, and the force at which they’d waged their war, Officer Keith did what anyone who loves and respects wildlife would do: He pulled out his cell phone and started taking pictures.
I happened to have a camera on me, and my coworkers had their phones, and so with little else to do, we followed suit. Several minutes of clicking and snapping, along with assorted exclamations of wonder and admiration, ensued.
At that point, our time with awesome Officer Keith was about done. We had told him that we possess an IDNR Scientific Permit, which allows us to salvage native wildlife—all of which belongs to the State—and use it as needed for educational purposes. We also asked, and he obliged, to have deer “tags”—plastic IDNR zip-ties—placed on the antlers of each buck, to prove they were harvested legally.
There really was only one matter left to address—the Step Two of our plan, removing the deer from the site. How the HECK were we going to get those heads, still firmly attached to 600 lbs. of buck (minus whatever the coyotes had eaten) out of the woods?
Thankfully, CPO Keith once again came to our rescue. He reached into his other pocket and pulled out, not another phone, but a knife. Because we were interested only in the skulls and antlers, he quickly sliced through the tissue on the necks of the two superb specimens. Meanwhile, I went off in search of a saw, which I erroneously thought would be easy to find in the many garage bays at Pottawatomie Park.
I suppose I should amend that last sentence. The saws were indeed easy to find. It was the getting to them that was difficult. Being quality tools, and it being late on a Saturday, every single workshop, closet and cubbyhole was locked up tight. I actually ended up going home to my own garage and grabbing my trusty bow saw. It has always worked great on brush, branches and Christmas trees; why wouldn’t it work on deer vertebrae?
As I came to learn that day, sawing off deer heads isn’t very hard at all. Nor is carrying the two interlocked beans, especially with two strong coworkers to help.
What did turn out to be difficult, in fact, harder than I’d ever imagined, was Step Three—storing the heads in a place that would be rodent-proof (to protect the antlers from being gnawed) as well as cool enough (to keep the stink down) and private enough (to keep our prize from being swiped).
I won’t bore you with details, but will note that I learned neither a chest freezer, a large metal trash can nor a 55gal. metal drum were big enough to hold the monstrous racks. Four hours later, and with the help of three other coworkers I eventually had to summon, we made the decision to lock The Boys (as I had begun referring to the heads, given our now long and intimate relationship) somewhat unceremoniously in a nearby outhouse for the night.
The backhoe part of the story came in the next day, Sunday, when two of us gathered at a remote, district-owned site and buried the heads 4 ½ feet underground. This winter, soil microbes and other decomposers will work to remove some of the hide and fleshy parts. In a few months (or several, depending on the winter we’re about to have), after the ground has begun to thaw, we’ll revisit the site to assess the skulls’ progress and determine which course of action to follow next.
Nature Nerds that we are, I’m sure the saga will be well documented, most definitely with words and quite likely with photos too. So don’t say I didn’t warn you…
Monster Bucks 2: The Sequel. Coming soon to a newspaper near you.
Pam Erickson Otto is the manager of nature programs and interpretive services at the Hickory Knolls Discovery Center, a facility of the St. Charles Park District. She can be reached at 630-513-4346 or potto@stcparks.org.