Wild Neighbors: Deer at the Ranch

My best deer image: a very nice-looking buck poses

When I bought Rancho San Benito early last year, I was told that there is an abundance of deer in the area. One of the primary reasons for buying the property was to have a quiet place where I can spend time closer to the natural world, so the fact that larger wild animals live there was an indicator that the ranch property was good spot for me.

 However, after several months of part-time work on the ranch a cast-off antler, which I picked up and put on a windowsill at the house, was as close as I'd gotten to seeing one of these beautiful animals.

So, inspired by interesting images captured by a cousin of mine in Washington State, and with his advice, last fall I invested in a motion-activated trail camera, of the type used by hunters to watch for game and property owners to monitor activity in remote areas.

I strapped the camera to trees along likely trails and in clearings starting last September, and eagerly visited to switch out the memory card and view my "captures." For several months I got interesting images of a variety of birds and small animals, and lots of pictures of leaves and branches being tossed by windstorms, but nothing of deer.

I was beginning to think that the stories of deer were false, when suddenly in January they started showing up in my pictures. The buck pictured above was the first good image I got, and this was in February. In the same location, a few days later, I captured the image below.

A doe forages in a clearing

 I have wondered why at least four months passed before I started getting pictures of deer. I am not sure, but it must have to to with their movements and the availability of food in the environment. I began to get the deer images after the dry season was in full swing, when much of the lush vegetation had withered and leaves had fallen. I assume deer forage more widely and take greater chances moving into open areas when food is scarce. It also could be that they are just more easy to see when vegetation is sparse.

The camera documented this pair of Yucatan Jays harassing a doe

"Hi there!" This doe got a good close look at the camera

I still have not seen a live deer on the ranch property, but as I spend more time out there, and as I learn more about their habits (with the help of the camera), I expect to do so.

I've gotten more interesting shots of other wild neighbors on the ranch with the motion-activated camera. I'll share them in a future post.


Text and images copyright 2016 by Marc Olson

Dry Season in the Country

In tropical Yucatán, if there is a season that resembles autumn in the north, this is it. Late winter and spring on the Peninsula is the dry season. Rain is slight and the otherwise lush, nearly-impenetrable vegetation in natural areas gives way for a few hot, dry months. Herbs, grasses and other small plants wither to nothing and many bushes and trees drop their leaves.

Out at the ranch, the opening of spaces and the extra light reaching the ground offer me a chance to see things that are hard to discern at other times. The rest of the year, shade and thick green curtains of vines and brush block the view more than few feet beyond either side of the road and trails.

Since this is my first dry season on this land, I am using the time to take a close look around. I took an hour's hike on one of the trails to the back of the property last week. I was able peer into areas normally hidden from view, and observe the wider contours of the property. This helps me plan construction and irrigation projects that I will be working on later.

I've surveyed and opened access to a nice high spot that may prove to be my home site and cleared trash and rubble from around the existing house. I also have taken a good look at the old orchard to figure out where I can best plant fruit trees, keeping in mind gravity-fed irrigation from a central water storage tank next to the well.

The openness right now also allows me to appreciate other things close up, things I might miss in the rainy season. For instance, this chaká (gumbo limbo) tree, is not so easily noticed the rest of the year. I took a moment to admire its green trunk and contrasting papery copper-colored bark.

I also noticed this tiny fungus growing on a rotting, fallen branch.



The walk took me around a meandering loop that ended back at my work area, the former orchard near the corral and well. It looks very different right now, too, both due to the dry weather and our efforts to clear space for spring planting. I am starting to save stout hardwood branches for fence posts, a few of which which can be seen leaning against the wall. I am not sure when I'll need them, but certainly they will be useful at some point.

I also am saving longer sections for use as roof beams on a later project. I'll post about that soon.

Text and images copyright 2016 by Marc Olson

The Ceiba

Last week when I arrived at Rancho San Benito after a five-day absence, I was presented with bouquets of flowers.

This is the ceiba, sacred tree of the Maya people, also known as the kapok tree. This example grows smack dab in the middle of the stone-walled corral.

I'd expected to see ceiba flowers this week because on my last visit, the buds on its branches were obvious. Not having lived near one of these trees, I hadn't quite expected this sort of show.

After admiring the glowing pink of the blossoms in the warm morning sunshine, I noticed the number of birds. Among others, I counted three hummingbirds in the tree at once and a pair of Altamira Orioles. A squirrel cuckoo, with its earthy-red body, flashy fan-tail and characteristic squirrel-like hopping behavior, was lurking nearby. The usual crowd, mainly jays, big-beaked Groove-billed Anis, blackbirds, grackles and a variety of other birds I still cannot identify, foraged among the blossoms as well.

But the most impressive visitors to the ceiba were the bees. Thousands of bees. They were busy going about their business, and the loudness of the hum was startling. As I stood beneath the tree, what was even more fascinating was the quality of the sound, which seemed to be everywhere. It was directionless and enveloping, as if the atmosphere itself was humming and vibrating.

I went about my work, carrying buckets of water for thirsty coconuts and lemon trees and packing compost and leaf mulch around their trunks to help the roots stay moist in this rainless season. I checked the plum trees, which budded last week and also are in flower now, and they're doing fine. I cleaned out the one-room house near the corral, which needs a new roof, door and some structural repairs before I can move in. The cleanup is in preparation for measuring and a full inspection prior to starting that project some time this spring.

Then, after the twenty-minute walk back into the village, the afternoon's agenda consisted of lunch with neighbors and a siesta.

That's pretty much how the days go around here right now.

Text and images copyright 2016 by Marc Olson

At Rancho San Benito

A spotlight of evening sun breaks through the gloom, minutes before sunset

In May I mentioned that I'd agreed to buy a parcel of old ranch land outside of Mérida. The transaction was completed in June.

Rancho San Benito has not had cattle grazing on it for close to fifteen years. In the tropical Yucatán climate, the result is that what once was open pasture now has trees on it whose trunks reach the thickness of a human leg. Large swathes of land are inaccessible due to dense thorny brush. Basically, although in the early stages of succession, the land has reverted to a form of jungle. A few game trails are passable if one is willing to swing a machete, and it's possible to walk around the limits of the place since the owners kept most of the lot lines clear. The back section, more than half of the property, although used as a wood lot has not been cleared in a very long time, if ever. Trees there are larger and the understory less dense but it's still not an easy place to move through.

Most of the progress I've made so far on the ranch has been in planning. Even in passable areas, the rocks and thorny growth do not allow for casual strolling. In order to learn more exactly what I'm dealing with in the area where I hope to build a dwelling, I've had some help clearing brush. This work continues, but slowly. I enjoy having people to work with, and often the work is lighter and goes more quickly with pleasant company. But I enjoy the quiet and think time provided by days spent working alone.

Working by myself allows me to hear and see more, like a small flock of wild turkeys that rose startlingly one morning out of the brush and flew low-to-the-ground to hide themselves out of my sight. Where they had just been, I found these feathers. On a daily basis I see quail, chachalacas, orioles, green jays, vultures and a variety of small songbirds. I've listed about 25 bird species so far, and have seen many more that I have yet to identify. Birds are my constant companions when I am out there alone. Other inhabitants include various small mammals, snakes, armadillos and a large variety of colorful lizards.

Working solo and quietly also means that I am more likely to see the deer that several villagers have told me are plentiful on the land. For some reason I haven't yet seen them, but as I go about my business it's only a matter of time until I do.

Days spent working alone at the ranch may be less productive in the sense of concrete accomplishment, but they give me a lot more information about the environment in which eventually I will live. And I enjoy having time just to enjoy the quiet and solitude there. I take breaks and just wander, or open the thermos on the tailgate of the truck and sit there enjoying the silence and a cup of hot coffee or icy lemonade.

This project is so large that it will never be done. There is no need to rush. The process is the project.


Text and images copyright 2015 by Marc Olson