At dusk, as we walked our dog on a country road, we saw on a hillside what at first looked to be a white flag, then two. But, no, they skittered and bobbled about so they couldn’t be flags.

Discarded plastic grocery bags, we thought, caught by the wind.

But then, as our dog strained at her leash, we saw another in the gathering darkness — closer this time. And, all of a sudden, we made out the outline of a deer, frozen — and noble.

Mired in a world of discarded suburban waste (how could we think the white tail of a deer was thrown-away trash?), we were thrilled with the unexpected revelation: Nature is near.

What we learned this week, though, is that white-tailed deer are carefully monitored and controlled by humans.  Our journey of discovery began with a call from an irate hunter who said he’d heard a Hilltown cooler was emptied of deer carcasses — illegally gotten deer — by environmental conservation officers.

The story of the arrest turned into much more — a look at the changing relationship between humans and deer.

Deer came to North America, descended from Asiatic forms, before humans — some time between one million and 18 million years ago.

“The trails of the white-tailed deer have not been marked with historical signs. Nevertheless, deer made an important contribution to the welfare of the pioneers and, indirectly, to the development of our country,” wrote two state game research investigators, C.W. Severinghaus and C.P. Brown, in 1956.

Their detailed report cited archeological digs across the state that had shown the dependence of Native American tribes on the deer — venison for food; hides for shelter and warmth; bones for weapons, tools, and ornaments.

“Through the years they have been the quarry of armies of hunters who valued them highly for food, clothing, recreation, or as trophies,” wrote Severinghaus and Brown.

“The settlers cleared the land with little, if any, consideration for the possible effects on game. Indeed, by the middle of the nineteenth century deer were in serious danger of extermination throughout the State, except in the wilderness areas.”

“Improvements in agriculture had long since rendered this supply of food of comparatively little value to the white man,” wrote John H. Hinton in 1834 in “The History and Topography of the United States,” “yet vast numbers of this species are annually destroyed.”

In 1873, Horace C. Taylor, in his historical sketches of Chatauqua County, described the animals there: “The principal of these animals found existing in the wilds of the now Town of Portland were bear, wildcat, beaver, deer, fox, rabbit, porcupine, woodchuck, raccoon, muskrat, skunk, mink, weasel, and squirrel. The first five of these have entirely disappeared.”

The last deer killed near Sing Sing in Westchester County was shot in 1861. The statewide population reached an all-time low between 1880 and 1890.

But, the deer was adaptable.

As poor farmlands were abandoned, Severinghaus and Brown write, “Deer exhibited remarkable ability to adapt themselves to the change in environment and reoccupied most of their former range. In recent years, and in spite of heavy hunting pressure, they have become so abundant locally as to interfere seriously with agricultural and forestry enterprises.”

In 1990, the state developed a method to include a wide variety of stakeholders in deciding how many deer were desirable. A pilot program, run by the Human Dimensions Research Unit at Cornell University, which helped develop the initial task force process, is currently underway, including information from a survey of citizens about their preferences for the wildlife management area in which they live. (See related story.)

All kinds of data are considered — from the number of motorists’ accidents caused by deer to the damage done to suburban gardens or farmers’ crops. This is weighed against the value a community places on hunting and on the beauty of seeing deer along with the economic boost to a place that attracts tourists and sportsmen.

Permits are issued to hunters based on the goals set by the stakeholders and adopted by the state’s Department of Environmental Conservation.

We wholeheartedly support this method, and the enforcement that comes with it. In our region alone, the DEC’s Region 4, there are hundreds of violations each hunting season. Citizens are urged to call a tip line if they see violations.

“Some of these people don’t care,” said Rick Georgeson, spokesmen for the DEC. “It’s frustrating. It’s one thing if you’re trying to feed your family. It’s another thing if you just want a rack to put on your wall.”

We echo his sentiments and add to them. Even crimes not so flagrant as the three illegal carcasses found in Berne recently have a detrimental effect.

A hunter, for example, may feel he is beating the system, by taking a doe from an area where they are more plentiful rather than from the area for which he was issued a permit. However, this breaks not only the law but a contract — a contract painstakingly developed by stakeholders to balance human interests with nature’s demands.

It’s important not to paint all hunters with the same black brush. As Georgeson said, “The vast majority of sportsmen are honest. The poachers give them a bad name.” Sportsmen groups have even invested in robotic deer that serve as bait for hunters who shoot illegally, cruising back country roads. Conservation officers operate the deer, hiding out of sight, then arrest those who shoot at it from the highway.

We were moved by an essay that closes this December’s issue of “The New York State Conservationist,” a magazine published by the DEC.

A long-time hunter, Thomas Adessa, writes of the last day of a fruitless hunting season, which he spent in an old tree stand. “Would I finally fill a tag today?” he asks himself. As the day wears on, he recalls the memories of the wildlife he has encountered over the years, watching from his high perch.

He watches the clock, too, aware of when legal shooting time is over. “The last few minutes passed much too quickly and it was time to call it a season,” he writes.

But then: “A sharp ‘whoosh’ cut the stillness; antlers flashed as a buck snorted and trotted away. His tail rocked back and forth, as if giving me a white ‘goodbye’ salute…I smiled, shaking my head and unloading my gun, I thought, ‘That’s not the first time I have seen that on the last day.’”

This is a parable of a hunter who follows the rules, appreciating the beauty and worth of the deer he hunts, and the human contract that protects it.
— Melissa Hale-Spencer