The Ghost Deer

The Ghost Deer of Northern California has befuddled hunters, confounded game wardens and mystified anyone who has heard of it, tracked it - - or been lucky enough to see it.

It lives in the wilderness canyons of Mt. Eddy west of Mt. Shasta, as well as in the minds of those who are beguiled by it.

The Ghost Deer, according to legend, is a buck that looks something like the elk in the Hartford insurance commercials. In a state where most bucks look like a Great Dane with horns, the Ghost Deer has antlers with 12 points on one side, 10 points on the other. Most believe it weighs 240 to 250 pounds, unless, that is, you believe that it really is a ghost.

That is because hunters have reputedly shot right through it.

Late this past summer, several game wardens in Northern California confided that they were seeing far more big bucks than in previous years in advance of the deer season, particularly in the vicinity of Mt. Eddy. The story making the rounds was of one particularly huge buck.

So I spent several trips scouting Mt. Eddy, driving up canyons, then trekking on game trails, up canyons, along rivers, over ridges and into meadows. The key to finding wildlife is to search out areas where there are defined changes of habitat, such as where a forest gives way to a meadow, with the meadow edged by a stream. That will attract deer because there are the three essentials in close proximity: food, water and cover.

In these areas, you can often find a game trail on the edge of the meadow,

and then search out that game trail for hours, looking for tracks or signs of bedding or feeding. These are the skills of woodsmanship. Just before the deer season, I tracked, spotted and stalked about 50 deer, including about 15 bucks crowned by a 5x5 and two 4x4s.

Just like the game wardens had said, because of last spring's big rains, high levels of vegetation led to high levels of nutrition and great antler growth.

Then, in the week before the start of hunting season, on the edge of a small feeder creek in a side canyon set high on the west flank of Eddy, I spotted a single hoof print that looked like that of an elk. It was twice as big as any deer print I have seen in 25 years of roaming California's 58 counties.

But there are no elk on Mt. Eddy. Stunned, excited and astounded, I searched for the animal for several days, up and down the canyons, rims and across meadows, but found nothing else.

Back in town later that week, while waiting for a take-out pizza at a local restaurant, I overheard a conversation at a table among three locals, all apparent deer hunters.

"I've never seen anything like it in my life," one said to his entranced friends. "I saw it right at dusk. I was looking up at the ridge, and could see those antlers against the sky. Had to be at least 10 points on each side. Before I could get a fix on him, he turned and slipped away."

"That sounds like the Ghost Deer," another responded.

They all nodded, not as if this was crazy yarn, but as if this was confirmed fact. It was the first time I'd heard of the Ghost Deer.

In small towns, word travels fast. On the opening morning of deer season, every logging road leading up Mt. Eddy was filled with 4-wheel-drives loaded with hunters. On each flank of the mountain, camps were wedged in every flat spot you could reach by vehicle.

Hunters trolled the mountain roads on ATVS, trail bikes and 4-wheelers the way fishermen troll a lake for trout. The ambitious few on foot scrambled the ridges. Others, working in teams, set above and below heavy cover, tried to flush deer out into the open.

But hunting was poor and nobody saw the Ghost Deer. By the end of the season two weekends ago, most seemed to have forgotten about it. The mountain was still, nearly empty of people, and the season ended quietly.

But then came another story.

During a trip north to buy an old 4-wheel drive as a field vehicle, my son Jeremy, 15, overheard another young hunter, about 17, telling a captivating tale.

"I saw the Ghost Deer," he said. "I saw it clearly at dusk up on the ridge. It had 12 points on one side and 10 on the other. I shot at it but missed."

As the story goes, another hunter not only saw the Ghost Deer, but actually did shoot it -- except that the bullet seemingly passed right through it. "Maybe it really is a ghost," the hunter said.

As the story was passed around, other tales of shooting right through it have come forth. None verified, just stories. Told while sitting around a camp,

and then passed along. At the hardware store, waiting in line.

This past week, after the first snow in the mountain country, we decided to test out that old 4-wheel-drive. It handled the rugged terrain perfectly, not a slip and with plenty of beef. Then at one outcrop on the leading edge of canyon, we stopped to take in the view, scanning across the Shasta Valley to 14,162-foot Mt. Shasta, sparkling with fresh snow, rising like a towering iceberg above the valley foothills.

I looked down, and there in the mud, was a hoof print that looked like that of a small elk. There were two more, and I followed them to the ledge, where the tracks disappeared down into a steep canyon, densely wooded with oaks, pines and fir.

Maybe there really is a Ghost Deer, I thought. For myself, I will keep searching, in all weather, all seasons, using every shred of experience and woodsmanship I can muster, and perhaps someday I will get lucky and see it.

Then again, maybe there are mysteries in the wild for which we may never find answers.