Gruesome Deaths of 5 Deer Fuel Protest of Spiked Fence

Humans and deer long have coexisted peaceably in Sierra Madre Canyon, nestled at the base of the San Gabriel Mountains about 15 miles from downtown Los Angeles. Deer trails there meander through backyards of bohemian cottages and hillside houses.

But in the past few months, that relationship has been shattered by the deaths of at least five deer and subsequent protests against a fence that critics say caused those deaths.

Since March, four deer have impaled themselves on the spiked wrought-iron fence, which was recently installed around a local chiropractor’s canyon garden to keep grandchildren safe and deer away from flower beds, animal control officials say. The fence also claimed the life of a fawn that became wedged beneath it, officials add.

One deer was so deeply impaled on the fence May 26 that an animal control officer had to shoot it and carve it from the spikes. That was the final straw for some canyon dwellers.

A few days later, more than 50 area residents attended a candlelight protest vigil along the fence on Sturtevant Drive.

Residents say they will present a petition with more than 150 signatures to the Sierra Madre City Council next week, demanding that the fence be made safe.

“People should not live up here if they are not interested in having deer running through their yard,” said Shirley Moore, a Sierra Madre Canyon resident and vigil organizer. “Fences are not part of the local landscape.”

Some canyon folk have taken to patrolling the area nightly with flashlights to scare deer off from attempting dangerous leaps over the fence. Other neighbors say they will hacksaw the spikes off even if it means going to jail.

Intra-canyon controversy is unusual in an area where people stuck together through a 1978 mudslide that damaged houses, and a 1994 fire that isolated but did not penetrate the enclave of pine, Italian cypress and oak.

The fence’s owner, chiropractor Helen Huber, did not return several telephone calls for comment. According to city officials and neighbors, she has lived for many years in the two-story, white English-style cottage, surrounded by wildflowers.

Huber’s daughter, Jodi, reportedly has said her mother is an animal lover who never intended any harm to the deer.

Huber originally wanted to build a higher fence that she thought would have been impossible for deer to leap over, but city officials denied permission.

In January, the city Planning Commission approved construction of a 6-foot-high fence.

Since the May 28 vigil, the property owner has attached horizontal wooden planks along parts of the fence to cover the spikes. She has also stretched netting from nearby trees to the fence in an attempt to prevent animals from jumping into the garden.

Sierra Madre officials said they will meet with Huber later this week to try to persuade her to remove the spikes.

Given the bloody incidents, City Administrator John Davidson said the fence could be declared a public nuisance. But without Huber’s cooperation, Davidson conceded, its removal could trigger a legal struggle.

City Councilwoman and canyon resident Kris Miller-Fisher described the half-mile canyon of homes anchored by a single general store, Mary’s Market, as a tight-knit community where feelings for wildlife run deep. “I had people crying in my office when the deer died,” she said.

Animal control officials say deer are creatures of habit and will stick to a path regardless of barriers.

“This is a trail deer have used for hundreds of years; even a higher fence won’t keep them out,” said Steve McNall, Pasadena Humane Society executive director.

Humane officers have found two deer impaled on the fence, one already dead and one that they had to shoot, and the fawn was found dead nearby after freeing itself from beneath the fence. Two other deer apparently died as a result of injuries on the spikes. “One dead deer is too many,” McNall said.

Longtime canyon resident Roger Brown said he will never forget the sight of an impaled deer. “A massive pool of blood a foot wide was running down the rock wall,” recalled Brown. At the turn of the century, the canyon was known as Carter’s Camp.

Subdivided in 1913, it was advertised as a “true mountain and canyon environment, within walking distance of the streetcars and yet absolutely removed from noisy, dusty city conditions.”

Gone are the streetcars, but Miller-Fisher said residents still want a slower life, in touch with nature. “Most people here are proud to have deer in their gardens,” she said.