There Is No Turning Back : Instincts of Deer Lead Them Across Roads, Where They Lose Escape Skills

It didn’t take wildlife biologist Ron Thomas long to find his first deer when he went to work for the California Department of Fish and Game 10 years ago.

Thomas was near Topaz Lake at the Nevada border, driving his belongings into the state, when the deer jumped in front of the car and was hit. The animal was killed and caused $750 worth of damage to the car.

“Night time, came off the bank, no way to miss it,” Thomas said. “It’s a real common story up in our neck of the woods.”

With winter driving deer down to summer ranges, a peak season is approaching. Everyone who lives along California 395 north of Bishop seems to have a deer collision story. The stretch between Bridgeport and Topaz Lake is one of the worst in the state. Mary Roeser, who teaches school in Coleville, struck two deer late last year.

In the first incident, a fawn crossed the road in front of a doe, which turned away as Roeser tried to stop.

“We thought it was out of the way, then it darted back after the fawn,” she said.

The car sustained $1,000 in damage. The second time, in daylight, a small doe, apparently fleeing a barking dog, sprang from trees without warning. Another deer; another $1,500.

Insurance companies have no data specifically on deer collisions. They list such claims as “miscellaneous” and pay off on comprehensive coverage. The California Highway Patrol records such incidents as routine property damage.

But limited studies by the California Department of Transportation (Caltrans) offer a current car repair mean estimate of $1,059 for deer incidents, not to mention the loss of wildlife. The motorist is lucky if he suffers only heartbreak.

Although Caltrans could find only three human injuries among 13 incidents traced in one region, Michigan reported 1,469 injuries and five deaths among 34,252 incidents in 1986. Research over a four-year period by the CHP once showed five injuries in 46 deer incidents.

Tom Rohner, a former claims adjuster now with the California State Automobile Assn. in Northern California, said: “Those little 110-pound coast deer can total a full-size automobile. And we have had cases where they come up on the hood, break the windshield and come into the car. I have heard horror stories of when the deer in the car comes alive.”

DFG figures show that 20,767 deer were killed by legal hunters in the state last year. Stan Ford, environmental planner for Caltrans, estimates that 15,000 more were killed by motorists, sending more than $15 million worth of business to the state’s auto body shops.

Said Ford: “My number is a guess. I may be way off. I’m going way beyond my data.”

But his figure is probably conservative. It might have been more--a lot more. Caltrans and the DFG are trying to find out.

The 56-mile stretch of 395 south of Susanville is notorious as “Slaughter Alley.” A two-year study there ending last April revealed 1.59 verified car kills a day, or 580 a year. Farther south, a study in Mono County this year documented 253 road kills through the first seven months.

Those studies include only those kills verified, not the untold scores picked up by other motorists for the antlers or venison, dragged away by predators, killed on smaller side roads or those deer that were fatally injured and limped into the woods to die.

Mule deer are California’s primary big game animal, so-called because of their long ears. In July, the DFG estimated the peak population at 1.2 million, but that was expected to drop by half by the end of this winter with the normal two-thirds attrition in the fawn crop.

Besides perhaps 40,000 lost to hunting and road kills each year, wardens estimate that poachers more than match the legal hunters, buck for buck. Many more deer die of natural causes, especially with the state in a four-year drought.

But most--perhaps 200,000 a year--fall to natural predators. A mountain lion might claim a deer a week. By comparison, road kills seem insignificant.

“Most of these deer are going to get taken, anyway,” Ford said. “It’s just aesthetically unpleasing, and it’s the waste of a good resource.”

Tim Taylor, a June Lake biologist who is doing the Mono study for Caltrans and the DFG, said: “This time of year, you get a deer every morning on the June Lake Loop road. I feel if they were left on the highway, it might be a little gruesome, but people might see them and slow down.”

As it is, a deer struck on Friday might lie where it died until Monday. Caltrans, the agency responsible for removing the deer, does not do so on weekends. WHERE DEER DIE

Susan Chappell of the U.S. Forest Service did the study of Slaughter Alley, identifying four “hot spots” where deer mortality was especially high.

Hot spots are found where the deer’s natural migration routes intersect a high-speed highway. Deer don’t change their habits just because somebody builds a road. They cross it at least twice a year--more often in places along 395 where they spend their winters.

Around Coleville, Thomas said, “Many of those deer cross the highway twice a day from October to May.”

The worst places are near alfalfa fields and where their favorite browse, such as bitterbrush, is available along the roadside; where deer and driver visibility is restricted by thick cover, and where there are steep cuts through hills or drop-offs next to the road.

Drivers are helpless to avoid startled deer suddenly springing into their paths. WHEN DEER DIE

The spring and fall migrations are the peak periods for road kills. Most occur at night or at dawn or dusk.

“That’s when most of the movement occurs,” Taylor said. “(But) during that migration period there’s a chance of hitting a deer regardless of what time of day it is.”

Tom Gieser of Bridgeport said that in the 35-mile stretch from that town north to Coleville, “During migration it’s not unusual to have 25 or 30 (road kills) a night.”

A car’s headlights create further danger for deer. “They panic and run right into barbed wire and trees and traffic,” Rohner said.

Ford said: “Lights confuse animals, but we have problems with deer just standing there looking at cars. They stand on the road licking the road for salt or whatever, and they aren’t going to move for anything.”

Deer don’t get hit because they’re clumsy or dumb, Taylor said. They are the most agile and alert of creatures.

“They have great eyesight, great hearing and great smell. But they have a high panic factor and startle easily.”

Bill Dasmann, who wrote the DFG’s original handbook on big game of California in the ‘50s, noted that deer, although quick to catch motion, have poor vision for stationary objects--and an oncoming car may seem relatively stationary.

Deer don’t seem to perceive cars as threats, as they do, say, mountain lions and bears.

“I think they want to avoid them,” Taylor said. “But I don’t think they understand that running out in front of them, they’re going to get hit.”

Thomas said: “They certainly don’t seem to sense a vehicle as a danger, like they do a predator or a person on foot. I think the biggest factor is they’ve just got to cross the highway. Their ingrained instincts and yearly cycles require it.” WHAT TO DO

Whistles, reflectors, underpasses--they’ve all been tried, with mixed success.

The CHP and Utah Division of Wildlife Resources have experimented with “Sav-A-Life” and “Game Saver” warning whistles--inaudible to the human ear--mounted on their state vehicles.

Utah’s conclusion: “The whistles don’t work.”

But Jeff Kahn of the CHP said: “We put them on half of our patrol cars and ran them for a year, and the ones with the whistles had no deer accidents. Without them we had two or three.”

Hardly conclusive.

Taylor said: “We found a whistle lying right by a deer. My feeling is they don’t work.”

California is still trying Swareflex reflectors, which are mounted alongside roads to reflect headlights at right angles to the road, into the deer’s eyes.

Ford said: “They’ve been tested in many places and the results vary from, ‘They work wonderfully,’ to, ‘They don’t work at all.’ ”

Chappell’s study indicated that clearing roadside vegetation helped, but the most successful--and most expensive--plan would be underpasses at the worst hot spots, if they are constructed properly.

Deer Danger Zones 1. From the state line, 15 miles south through Antelope Valley. (October-May) 2. Sonora Junction, 2 miles north & south. (April-November) 3. Just north of Bridgeport Valley. (April-November) 4. Bridgeport, 4 miles south (April-November) 5. Base of Conway Summit. (April-June, October-November) 6. June Lake Junction, 5 miles south. (April-June, October-November) 7. Dead Man Summit, 2 miles south. (April-June, October-November) 8. Mammoth Junction, 2 miles north. (April-June, October-November) 9. Benton Crossing Road, 3 miles south. (April-June, October-November)