206 CALIFORNIA FISH AND GAME 



1927, in Yosemite, I watched two large bucks in hot pursuit of a cer- 

 tain doe. Both bucks were decidedly pugnacious. However, when the 

 larger and dominant buck apjiroached to within thirty feet of the other 

 buck, he stopped and lowered his head until his nose almost touched 

 the ground. He then gave a series of hoarse hisses and grunts. Upon 

 hearing this, the other buck did not stay to fight but departed in haste. 

 Again in Yosemite on December 10, 1927, I watched a forked-horn buck 

 feeding with other deer. AVhenever a certain spike buck came near 

 him the larger buck uttered a warning wheezy grunt, and the hairs on 

 his back and rump stood up stiffly like bristles. 



At 5.30 o'clock on the morning of July 10, 1928, in a meadow in 

 Yosemite, I watched an old doe which, from her anxious actions, I felt 

 sure had a fawn hidden nearby. I retired to the shelter of a thicket 

 and remained in hiding. In just ten minutes, by the watch, this doe 

 hid in the tall grass. She waited a few moments, after lying down, and 

 then gave a low bleat or call. Upon hearing this call, her fawn at 

 once rose up out of the dense grass where he had been hiding (see Fig. 

 63), and trotted over to his mother, and began to nurse. On four 

 different dates I have heard and watched nursing does call their fawns 

 from their places of hiding, and in each instance the mother's call note 

 was low and intimate, being just loud enough to carry the few yards to 

 Ihe hidden fawn. 



The use of voice, which enables a doe and her fawn to communicate 

 and to keep in touch with each other, continues at intervals as long as 

 they remain together, and I have observed does call their fawns long 

 after the latter had been weaned. On February 27, 1928, in Yosemite, 

 George M. Wright watched a doe call her fawn of the previous year, 

 and in his field notes states : "The doe used a quiet little bleat for calling 

 her fawn. This call was repeated several times, and was definitely 

 audible for a distance of 125 feet. ' ' 



TRACKS 



Tracks made by deer are of outstanding interest both to the field 

 naturalist and to the hunter, since they frequently tell a great deal that 

 men wish to know. The freshness of the track affords some idea of how 

 recently the deer had been at that particular spot. The size and shape of 

 the tracks, together with other "sign," will in many instances, but not 

 always, indicate the sex of the deer. The depth of the track, allowing 

 for the condition of the soil, can be taken as a fair indication of the 

 weight, and hence of the general physical condition of the animal. 

 Under the same soil conditions, a fat heavy deer will make deeper hoof 

 prints that will a thin animal with hoofs of the same size. 



In general, large deer usually make large tracks. However, deer 

 with bodies of medium size sometimes have large hoofs and hence make 

 large tracks. Size of tracks alone can not be relied upon to indicate the 

 true size of a buck's antlers. As illustrating these two points, I offer 

 the following field experience. On October 7, 1924, five miles north of 

 Fredonyer Peak in Lassen County, I found and followed the freshly 

 made trail of a large Eocky Mountain mule deer. As the deer walked 

 leisurely along, his tracks were 25 inclies apart. The right front foot 

 track (see Fig 64) measured 4 inches in length and 2f inches in width, 

 when this buck was walking at normal gait on soft damp ground. This 



