Letters from Deer Camp

THE CEDAR SWAMP Letters from Deer Camp

The winters of ‘64-’65, ‘65-’66 and ‘66-67 were brutal on Minnesota’s deer population. So much so that Zone 1 had a reduced 2-day season in 1970, and the legislature closed deer season in the entire state in 1971. In this letter to Buck, I describe what my dad and I tried to do to help.

March 15, 1967 Buck Boy, these last three weeks have been a blur. The deer situation has gotten to be critical. Besides not getting any deer the last two years, what deer are left are certainly in trouble. We haven’t seen any in the back yard since December and there seems to be none behind the lake at all. Dad remembers back to 1941 when we had a similar situation. When the winters are bad, the deer tend to yard up in the cedar swamp behind Brandstrom’s near the Twin Bridges.

I love that swamp. It’s the biggest cedar swamp in the area and it feels magical as you walk through it. Not many people know, but there is an island of high ground in the middle where an old pioneer built a log house years ago. The foundation is still there, and a rusted-out Model A body sits on the north hillside.

Back in ‘41, dad and Ralph Kluck snowshoed back into there and cut cedar browse for the deer. Cedar has better nutrition than pine and the deer seem to like it. Dad thought that maybe it was time to do that again.

Dad had a pair of Alaskan snowshoes, but I had none. Three weeks ago, Glen’s Army/Navy advertised military surplus “bearpaw” snowshoes for $3 a pair. I was excited! Now I’d be able to tramp all through the woods all winter long! Well, they weren’t near as effective as I thought they’d be. Barely bigger than my Sorels, the webbing that was supposed to hold them to my boots was complicated and hard to adjust. Yet, they had to be better than nothing.

Three Saturday’s ago, we made our first trip into the swamp. It was eerily quiet. It was easy to see the browse line that the deer had cleared as far up as they could reach. Most of the fronds must have been eaten early in the winter as there were no tracks in the snow underneath. After strapping on the ‘shoes, dad led, and I followed. His snowshoes sunk almost twenty inches into the snow. I followed with the bear paws and sunk most of the way to the ground. We didn’t measure snow depth, but I was up past my hips – the bear paws gave no loft at all. Worse, about every third step the straps would let go and leave my snowshoe at the bottom of the snow pack. I had to lay on my belly and dig down and retrieve the darn thing. I’d spend five minutes strapping it back on, but another would come off within the next few steps. After 45 minutes of total frustration, I gave up on the shoes and just plowed through the snow. It wasn’t easy, but much better than dragging the extra hardware around.

About 75 yards into the swamp, we saw our first deer activity. There was a trench in the snow that the deer had been using. That was the only way they could travel. It was like a street that they were limited to. Soon we came to a crossing trench, and then a third. We started cutting browse, dad with an axe and me with long-handled snippers. It was hard work – both to move around and to reach high enough to get above the browse line. We worked for about three hours and then trudged back to the truck.

Wanting to see if we had done any good, we decided to go back the next Saturday. Not happy with the bear paws, we talked Ralph into letting me borrow his Alaskan shoes. Buck, you know I got my learner’s permit at the beginning of December but haven’t had much chance to practice driving with the bad road conditions. Dad asked if I wanted to drive to Ralph’s to pick up the shoes. You bet!

Well, you know our ‘56 Ford green short bed pickup. Problem is that it has a tricky clutch. The throw on the pedal won’t engage until it’s within about an inch of the top. Instead of slipping the clutch for a distance, it goes from nothing to fully employed in that last inch. Once I got going it was fine, but starting from a stop was a nightmare for my inexperience.

I managed to head us down the road but soon had to worry about turning into Kluck’s driveway. Slowing down, depressing the clutch pedal, making sure I hit second gear on the tree correctly all came into play before I actually started to turn. I ended up coming in a bit hot, took the corner too wide and with the snowy surface slid the left front wheel past the driveway and over the culvert. How embarrassing! Ralph had to bring his tractor down to pull us out of the ditch. Well, at least we got the shoes!

Back at the swamp a surprise awaited us. We’d barely gotten into the cedars when we could see several deer standing in their trench just watching us – their backs even with the top of the snow. As we walked past them, they followed us – only a few yards away. We moved a bit past where we had been the previous Saturday and started to cut again. The deer wouldn’t take the branches from our hands but were mere feet from us when they’d pick it up. We cut for hours. There were as many as fifteen deer – all does and fawns – munching on the greenery. All too soon it was getting dark, and we had to leave. As we turned, most of what we’d cut had already been consumed.

This past week we decided to make one more trip into the swamp. Back down to Ralph’s to pick up the Alaskan’s and dad asked, “You want to try it again?” You bet!

Well, lessons learned from last week. Won’t make that mistake again. To make sure, I started my turn much earlier. Unfortunately, TOO early! I put the right front tire over the culvert on the near side. I think Ralph’s tractor was still warm from the last rescue, and out we came again. I thought last week was embarrassing.

Our welcoming committee was ready for us when we entered the swamp. Just like a herd of cows coming back to the barn after being out to pasture, they followed us to a new spot. We had packed down the snow over quite a large area the last couple of weekends and they had been able to move around a bit more easily. They could reach more of the browse on their own but were happy to slurp up what we cut down. After about four hours we left and returned the snowshoes. I didn’t drive.

Did we make a difference these last few weeks? I guess we’ll never know. Dad and I sure feel like we helped. The weather is turning warmer, and the snow depth is rapidly decreasing. With any luck they’ll make it the rest of the way until real spring gets here. In any case we can only hope that the next few winters are kinder to us and the deer.

Keep in touch. Let me know how your family is doing.

Hoops