Of these species, by far the most important to whitetails is broadleaf, a squat tree with succulent foliage. While kelp washing up on Stewart Island's beaches is also eaten by these whitetails, studies have shown broadleaf to be the most common material in the diet. The deer will nip off growing broadleaf leaves within reach, but due to the combined impacts of long-term browsing and the self-pruning nature of broadleaf, much of the herd's diet now consists of freshly fallen yellow leaves.
Broadleaf is an evergreen, so the foliage doesn't drop all at once; it's like a sporadic "mast crop" that falls a few leaves at a time, all year long. Whitetails frequently check the ground beneath these trees, particularly after a high wind shakes more than the usual amount of foliage from the canopy.
Of far less use to the deer, but of great fascination to Stewart Island's human visitors, are the countless ferns. Tiny ones cling to living trees and moss-covered deadfalls. Crown ferns as high as a deer's back cover acre after acre. And then there are the tree ferns, with their 12-foot-wide "wingspans" spreading from atop 20-foot-tall stalks. I'll never forget standing in the shade of these prehistoric giants as Dave, James and I examined a big whitetail rub. In that habitat, a brontosaurus would have seemed less out of place.
By mid-afternoon we'd reached the top of the dunes leading west to the sea. We'd seen no deer, but there was enough sign to convince us that the density was high. On the dunes we'd even found kiwi tracks paralleling those of a whitetail. I was struck by this odd intersection of one of earth's rarest birds and one of its most abundant big-game animals. What continental drift had not achieved in millions of years, a single ship a century ago had set into motion in the relative blink of an eye.
The author shows an enormous leaf from a tree fern on Stewart Island. The habitat here appears more suited to dinosaurs than whitetails! Photo by Dr. James Kroll.
From there, we pressed on over the sand pass to the seaward side. It seemed clear from the fresh sign on the ridges that many deer were bedding on them, so we decided to hike down to within a quarter-mile or so of the beach and then sit atop a huge dune -- James watching to the south, Dave and I to the north. It was from that perch that I would shoot my doe just before dark.
The next morning, James pulled from the doe's tail some hairs with roots on them. Then he cut off a small strip of muscle tissue from the belly. The DNA samples would be stored until a protocol for shipping to the U.S. could be worked out. (At this writing, efforts to set up a system for importing a large number of samples are in progress. James hopes to get testing under way in the near future.)
From mid-morning until mid-afternoon on that second full day we roamed the area around Mason Bay, looking at more deer sign and native plants. Dave knows Stewart Island well, and he shared his keen insights along the way. It was like having our own tour guide in The Land That Time Forgot.
By mid-afternoon we'd reached another dune overlooking the Tasman Sea, this one a few hundred yards south of the one from which I'd taken my doe the day before. Two hours before sundown I saw another doe at a distance, and James got a look at a 2 1/2-year-old buck that was feeding beneath a broadleaf tree on the ridge above us. But there wasn't a good shot at either deer, and we ended the day's hunt with nothing but memories. At least they were good ones.
An hour after dark, as we neared our hut, Dave stopped suddenly. Straining to see in the moonlight, James and I were thrilled to spot two kiwis only a few steps ahead. The chicken-sized flightless birds were probing the ground with their long bills in search of earthworms. For several minutes we watched two of the world's most endangered creatures go about their nightly routine, virtually oblivious to our presence. The Mason Bay area might have more kiwis than any other place on earth, but not every visitor is lucky enough to see one, much less a pair.
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