From Rus in Urbe Backyard Buck: On Coyote Patrol

By Paul Clark (aka motomynd)

[Columnist Paul Clark fashioned Rus in Urbe: Country in the City from his family’s one-acre suburban lawn, turning it into a wilderness retreat for them and their neighboring wild creatures.]

At our place in Virginia, our backyard deer have their fawns the last two weeks of May. Not coincidentally, our ever-present but seldom seen coyotes show up in greater numbers the first two weeks of May.

    Thus the stage is set for the annual struggle for survival: the vulnerable does struggling to protect their helpless fawns from constant threat; the coyote parents trying to kill fawns to give their growing pups a surge of nutrition not provided by their usual diet of mice, voles, and the occasional rabbit.

When coyotes first showed up in our suburban woodlot almost 10 years ago, in June we saw zero white-tailed deer fawns for the first time in a decade. It could have been coincidental to the arrival of the coyotes, but we feared our backyard deer herd would go the way of many of Virginia’s rural sheep farms, some of which had 90 percent of their sheep killed the first year coyotes burst on the scene.
    Over the next five years we had a fawn or two, but never the four or five we used to see BC: before coyotes.
    Having fewer fawns eventually translates to having fewer adult deer, so we became actively involved in discouraging coyotes in our area. Walking the perimeter of the property on a regular basis put them off at first, but they quickly became bolder. The adult deer showed some interest in harrying the coyotes out of the area, but seemed unsure what else to do other than halfheartedly chase them a short distance.
    One fateful afternoon a coyote grabbed a fawn by the leg and dragged it into an area of fallen trees the adult deer couldn’t navigate; all they could do was run in frantic circles while the fawn bleated pitifully. With a baseball bat in hand I was able to crawl into the tangle of trees, whack the coyote in the ribs and make it release the fawn. As I backed out of the thicket with the fawn, the coyote made a run in the opposite direction, and Miracle – our local magnificent eight-point buck – took it out like a proverbial freight train.
    The eastern coyote, which is 10 to 15 pounds heavier on average than the western version, is hyped as an apex predator; in Nova Scotia they killed a female hiker and reportedly also kill moose there. That may be so if there are multiple coyotes and only one deer or moose, but I can attest that a lone 45-pound class eastern coyote is in a grievous mismatch against a raging 175-pound class white-tailed buck. 

    The fawn miraculously survived – we quickly dubbed him Survivor, of course – and the confrontation seemed to galvanize the mentality of the deer. In the years since, we have again been seeing four or five fawns born each May and June. In any season, if the adult deer spot a coyote or free-roaming dog, they immediately give chase. In one instance this spring, our resident doe and two of her half-grown yearling fawns were browsing in our backyard when a coyote wandered out of the trees and into a short grassy area 100 yards away, atop a nearby hill. The doe let out a bellow, and she and her yearlings charged up the hill after it. Apex predator or not, the coyote immediately turned and fled.
    Of course, even the most aggressive doe is helpless during the hours immediately before and after she gives birth, which is apparently why the coyotes show up around the time fawns are usually born. But the deer now seem to have that problem solved.

    This year, on the morning of May 30, I was walking the trail through our National Wildlife Federation-certified Backyard Wildlife Habitat, when I spotted movement ahead. It was our white-tailed matriarch Fence – so named by my then four-year-old son –with a freshly born fawn. We had seen a very large coyote on our Ring camera system only two weeks previous, so I immediately went on alert, just in case it was lurking around in hopes of snatching the fawn while Fence was’t at full speed.
    I didn’t see a coyote, but 30 feet uphill from where Fence just had her fawn, Little Buck – one of Fence’s 2022 fawns – was lying in his favorite spot in his preferred patch of periwinkle, which gives him a full view of anything approaching from the north. Just beyond Fence and her fawn was Rowdy, her now very stout buck fawn from 2021, watching the creek bed where coyotes often approach from the east. And to my right, standing guard barely 40 feet from me and from Fence, was Last, a now nearly 200-pound buck who saw the coyote attack his brother, Survivor, several years ago.
    Now I know why I see so many bucks around our place in May, and why they show up when the coyotes do and why they always seem to be on patrol. I always wondered if it was a coincidence, but now it seems the deer have a well-designed plan. People may label coyotes as apex predators, but the white-tailed deer know who is in charge.

Copyright © 2023 by Paul Clark He turned his family's suburban lawn into a Rus in Urbe for them and their neighboring wild creatures to enjoy.