Exploring Kootenay Lake

My home is equipped with bird feeders: three, sometimes four, of them. Recently, they have been vanishing. We have feeder thieves. 

Now, I am not talking about interlopers, such as squirrels, that merely steal the contents. I am talking about thieves that steal the whole feeder. I first encountered the problem of feeder thieves when a bear dragged the woodpecker feeder off about 40 metres and tore it open to get at the suet. The solution, which worked until recently, was to take bird feeders in at night, because thieves are usually nocturnal. 

That procedure worked until yesterday, when the finch feeder was torn off the the tree and just vanished. The thieves returned again today during daylight hours.

Raccoon: “I can smell the seeds; they have put up yet another feeder, one that looks like it is catering to chickadees, nuthatches and sparrows.

“Come on, let’s grab it before those bipeds spot us.”

“OK, I tore it off the tree and tested the contents. They are good. Now let’s drag it home.”

“Why did you stop us? We are hungry.”

White-tailed bucks experience rising levels of testosterone in the fall and this leads to the rut, a gathering in November where bucks challenge one another for access to does. 

I have not witnessed the head butting and mating of the rut, but this last week, I was fortune to be able to watch some pre-rut sparring. Three bucks were congenially grazing together in the rain. There were no does to be seen. Yet, their rising testosterone was urging them to spar and they did, after which they just returned to grazing.

These were a mismatched three. There was an adult buck with four-points on each antler, along with one-spike and two-spike yearlings. But, fitness is irrelevant when grazing.

The sparring started when the two-spike youngster challenged the one-spike youngster. The contest just fizzled.

Then the youngster challenged the adult. It was a clash with butting and head twisting, but the adult appeared to be gentle with his young challenger.

They went at it a couple of times, with the adult seemingly reluctant to put much effort into the contest.

“Well, what did you expect me to do? He’s a youngster.”

I have never seen a cougar (although, it may be that a cougar has seen me).

I suspect that cougars are few in number around here, primarily because deer abound. After all, cougars are deer specialists. While I see a great many deer, it is rare to see evidence that cougars have attacked them. Out of a great many pictures I have taken of deer, few showed evidence of cougar attacks.

Two years ago, I photographed a doe that had flesh wounds from cougar claws. Then in late September of this year, I photographed more evidence of a cougar attack on deer. But, as the final pictures reveal, those pictures only show deer that survived an attack. In the end, the present number of cougars does not seem to have a significant impact on the number of local deer. 

A white-tailed survived a cougar attack that ripped flesh off her side.

Last week’s doe showed claw marks on her side. The deer’s left side showed more marks.

Those two pictures only showed deer that escaped a cougar. How many didn’t escape? In the snow are the remains of one deer that didn’t make it.

And, one more victim.

From August until the snow flies, I keep an eye out at the valley bottoms for black bears. Five were seen apparently fattening up for hibernation: the first two fancied fish; others chose apples. Only the last two stuck around long enough for pictures for they were spotted asleep high in an apple tree. 

A century ago, this valley had many orchards: apples, pears, plums, and cherries. That industry died, but descendants of those trees linger. It is likely that only the wildlife knows where all of the remaining trees are.

A black bear cub snoozed on a branch high in an apple tree. Below it, and partially hidden by the trunk, was another sleeping bear (mommy?).

At one point, the cub lifted its head and drowsily glanced at the distant interlopers.