Return of the Natives

The June afternoon was overcast and still as I left the fire road and picked my way quietly through brush to the stream. At the head of a long pool, I stopped. A beaver was swimming toward me. I watched motionless as the animal, a pebble-toss away, climbed the bank, nibbled some plants, then returned to the water and swam to the far end of the pond, where it disappeared behind a large stick lodge. Later in the afternoon, I saw another, foraging in a pool just a few feet away from me and apparently oblivious to my presence. And in a third pond, a half-grown beaver showed me his underwater swimming techniques. It was an afternoon to remember.

A fresh-cut sweet, or black, birch shows that beavers are again active in the park. (Photo by Napier Shelton)

The presence in the park of this colony, which had constructed some 10 dams and six lodges, illustrates the ceaseless impulse of animal populations to spread and occupy land. If the right habitats are available and the animals receive some protection, their recovery of former territory can be rapid. Several species originally native to the park area were wiped out. But with protection and some planned reintroduction, most have returned in considerable numbers.

As we have seen, the park landscape in 1935 was a patchwork of field and second-growth forest. There were sizeable areas of forest, to be sure, but open pasture occupied about a third of the land. This pattern of habitats was good for rabbits, quail, grouse, foxes (particularly the red), and a number of other small animals which like open country or forest edge. Most of the smaller mammals which live here today, such as skunk, opossum, raccoon, and red and gray squirrels, were here then. Bobcats, which require large tracts of wild land, had somehow persisted, no doubt aided by their extremely wary nature. Ravens and the big, showy pileated woodpeckers were here, too, though in smaller numbers than now.

Not so fortunate were some of the larger animals. Deer, which could have flourished in the patchy Shenandoah environment, had been exterminated. Bears, though occasionally seen, were no longer regular members of the animal community. Turkeys were apparently gone. And beavers were definitely gone. Establishment of the park eventually meant new territory for these four species. It had varied implications for other species, depending on their individual requirements.

White-tailed deer, once exterminated, have returned to the park and are now thriving. (Photo by Ross Chapple)

Actually, Shenandoah offers little prime habitat for beaver. They prefer to eat aspen, birch, and alder, species that seldom occur in large stands here. The streams flow through steep, narrow valleys, which generally preclude the creation of large ponds. Yet in the last 30 years beavers have persistently tried to colonize the lower reaches of several park streams. And they have had some help. In 1938 a pair was released somewhere in the north section, and in 1939 another pair was released on Jeremys Run. All but one of these animals died or were killed. The fourth was last seen in 1940 on Hughes River, where it had been taken after a brief career of cutting apple trees around Sperryville. At various times State game people have released beaver on the Shenandoah, Rapidan, or Rappahannock Rivers. The fresh cuttings seen in 1951 along Big Run, in the south section, perhaps were made by a wandering beaver from the Shenandoah River. Recent beaver activity has been confined to several east-side streams in the northern half of the park. Beaver probably will never thrive in Shenandoah, but their efforts are interesting to watch.

Nowadays it is no trick to see 15 or 20 deer in a night-time trip along Skyline Drive; but in March 1934, they were reportedly absent from the park area. The strong comeback of white-tailed deer began with 13 animals brought in late 1934 from the Mount Vernon Estate and released along Big Run. Then, about 1938, deer were reported crossing to the north section of the park from the Massanutten Mountains, where they also had been stocked. From these small beginnings, the deer population increased steadily until today they may be seen anywhere in the park. Present estimates, which are only educated guesses, run from a few hundred to a thousand.

The increase of deer in the park, as in many other parts of the east, has been greatly aided by the prevalence of second-growth forest. Deer prefer forest edge and young forests because here grows a variety and abundance of food that they can reach—herbaceous plants and leaves of shrubs and trees in summer, twigs in winter. As trees grow toward maturity, their lower branches tend to die, and the increasing shade they create makes it impossible for many plants to grow beneath them. Thus deer find it harder to find or reach food as forests age. At present, Shenandoah is still fair deer habitat, with many acres of young forest, some open areas, and many still-surviving apple trees (whose fruits deer munch with great relish). The park's deer population may well be at or past its peak, however, since the forest trend goes against the whitetail.

Thus far, no conspicuous browse lines (created by heavy browsing of lower branches) have appeared in Shenandoah's forests; this indicates that the park is not overpopulated with deer. Without its former predators (cougar and wolf), and without hunting in the park, why doesn't the deer population explode? The consensus of local observers is that excess deer move downslope out of the park. Many of these, along with some that normally range at the lower elevations, are taken by hunters beyond park boundaries. The narrow shape of the park is thus a factor in regulating its deer population.

Considering this animal's food habits, deer watchers will have the best luck where there are openings in the forest. Try Skyline Drive early in the morning, in the evening, or at night—deer feeding times—or visit Big Meadows or the Loft Mountain area. One of these places is almost sure to produce.

The return of the black bear was unassisted. Bears are great wanderers, and apparently the first to appear in the park came in from the mountains to the west, where a few had survived. In 1937 two were reported in the park, and by 1944 the estimate was ten. In 1951 the bear population was placed at about 30, ranging over all parts of the park but most evident in the south sections. Recent estimates range from 50 to more than 150—a population that must be near the park's carrying capacity. Since the black bear is adapted to deep forest, its numbers will probably remain stable into the future.

The black bear's increase in numbers has been accompanied by an increasing boldness. Only a few years ago, it was unusual to see a bear; now each campground has regular customers that work the trash-can circuit and investigate campsites for any food left about. Bearproofing of trash receptacles and better-informed campers are expected to alleviate this problem, so that bears will be educated to stick to their normal food—roots, berries, fruits, and whatever vertebrate and invertebrate animal life they can catch.

Unlike those in colder climates, Shenandoah's bears do not sleep all winter, but during bad weather they do sleep for short periods in caves or thick brush. Numerous tracks in the snow attest to their winter activity. Hugh Crandall had a startling encounter with a winter-active bear during the 1969 Christmas Bird Count. While bundled up against the cold and shuffling along on snowshoes over two feet of snow, he heard a branch snap behind him. He turned to see a charging bear—which then, recognizing its intended quarry as a human, bounded off into the forest. Normally, black bears avoid mankind.

In winter or early spring the tiny cubs, weighing less than a pound, are born. The usual litter is two, but sometimes one or three are born. By late summer of the following year they are big and wise enough to go their own way.

Privileged indeed is the hiker who has the chance to watch a mother bear foraging with her cubs, or even to see a bear galloping off up the mountainside. Much more usual are the signs they leave—broad footprints in snow or mud, large droppings on the trail, overturned rocks and logs, or chewed-up trail signs (The latter are less in evidence since adoption of the practice of wreathing signs with barbed wire).

A fourth success story concerns the wild turkey. Some of these birds apparently drifted back into the park from restocked areas outside, and some were planted by the Park Service in the north section. As with bears, they were first seen most often in the south section but now range park-wide. Using information in Mosby's The Wild Turkey in Virginia, I would guess there are 300 to 500 turkeys in the park.

Turkeys usually occur in flocks, each of which ranges over an area of several square miles. In winter these flocks generally are all-male or all-female. During the breeding season in spring, females disperse to nest, while first-year males either roam together in small groups or attach themselves to a breeding gobbler. Through summer and fall, the larger flocks are generally hens with their broods, while smaller flocks may consist of non-breeding hens or of males. The staple food items—acorns, berries, and seeds—are supplemented in summer by insects. Because of the wariness of these birds, turkey-watching is a chancy business. But by walking the less-frequented trails early in the morning, you might improve the chances of seeing them.

Another former inhabitant—the cougar—may have returned in a very modest way. Recurring reports of these big cats in the park keep alive the hope or fear (depending on one's interest) that they are back; so far, though, no dead animal or photograph (the scientist's confirmation) has been obtained. Some of the sightings are difficult to refute, but they could possibly have been of escaped animals. Convincing reports from Great Smoky Mountains National Park and Blue Ridge Parkway, farther south, lead me to believe that cougars have made a small comeback in the southern Appalachians and do occasionally wander into Shenandoah. But the park's narrow shape does not favor their reestablishment here.

As we have seen, not all the former natives came back. Bison, wapiti ("elk"), and wolves were exterminated long ago, and probably none of these will roam Shenandoah forests again. The eastern bison, a woods animal, became extinct. The wapiti, if reintroduced, probably would not do well here because of the narrowness of the park, and would compete with livestock outside the park. (It was once, with only temporary success, restocked in forests around the Peaks of Otter, farther south.) Wolves, which would range out of the park, doubtlessly to the consternation of farmers, also make poor candidates for reintroduction.

At least one species—the peregrine falcon—has recently disappeared from the park's fauna, not because of direct persecution or through habitat destruction but because of our subtle poisoning of the American environment. Twenty-five years ago, one or more pairs of these swift, handsome birds nested on the park's cliffs. But widespread use of DDT and perhaps other pesticides after World War II gradually eliminated this species as a breeding bird throughout Eastern United States. The process of destruction begins with small organisms being sprayed directly or eating sprayed vegetation. At each succeeding step in natural food chains, the poison becomes more concentrated, since each level of organisms consists of fewer animals than the preceding level—the one on which it feeds. Predators at the end of food chains, such as the peregrine, get the most concentrated doses. In the case of the peregrine falcon and a number of other birds, including the vanishing bald eagle and brown pelican, enough poison is ingested to reduce calcium production, causing the birds to lay abnormally thin-shelled eggs which break or give the embryo inadequate protection. No park is an island, unfortunately, but is a part of the environmental "maine." A wide-ranging migratory bird like the peregrine cannot be completely protected in parks. So vulnerable is the world's small population of these falcons, and so persistent are some pesticides that it is doubtful that peregrines will ever again nest on the cliffs of Shenandoah.

Let us return now from this instance of failure to the many instances of success, and ponder more deeply the ways organisms are wedded to Shenandoah environments.