DEER ON THE SIDEWALK
Managing Urban Wildlife in Rochester
ELLA KLOPFER
In Rochester, New York, deer do not just live in the woods anymore. They are on sidewalks, in schoolyards, behind gas stations, and across suburban roads at dusk. Deer, the white-tailed deer specifically, has made a home in the city, not by accident, but through slow, steady adaptation to the built environment. This shift has transformed the way that Rochester residents interact with wildlife and introduced new public health risks, environmental impacts, and cultural tensions. In neighborhoods in Irondequoit and areas such as Durand Eastman Park, deer sightings have become commonplace, and with them have come increased rates of deer-vehicle collisions, landscape damage, and heightened concerns over Lyme disease transmission. These conflicts reflect more than just ecological struggle; they reveal a tension between human control and the persistence of nonhuman life in cities.
How did deer population control evolve in Rochester, and how do public health concerns shape local management and perception? Behind these questions are even broader ones: What does it mean to share space with animals in a landscape designed for humans? What can deer teach us about the city, and about ourselves?
A HISTORY OF DISAPPEARANCE AND RETURN
White-tailed deer have long been a part of New York’s landscape. Fossil records show that deer have inhabited the region since prehistoric times, with evidence of their presence dating back to the Pleistocene epoch. Prior to European colonization, deer were abundant in certain areas, particularly in the Finger Lakes and lowland river valleys where Indigenous communities thrived. As anthropologist William Ritchie noted, “no single game animal played as great a role in the economy of the Indian population of ancient New York as the Virginia deer,” whose meat, bones, and hides were integral to daily life.1 For Indigenous communities, deer were seen as vital, sacred, and resources to be respected, not just harvested. At this time, deer populations flourished, with balanced population levels and healthy forest dynamics. However, this balance was rapidly disrupted with the arrival of European settlers. As colonists cleared forests for farming, established fur trading routes, and hunted game without regulation, deer populations plummeted. In contrast to the Indigenous view of deer, early European settlers viewed deer largely as game or economic commodity. These shifting cultural views laid the foundation for how deer would be managed (or mismanaged) over time. By the 19th century, these deer were nearly extinct across New York. In some areas, deer were so scarce that seeing one was considered a novelty. Monroe County, which today faces overabundance, was once nearly devoid of deer.2
However, the 20th century saw a dramatic reversal. As agriculture declined and forests regrew on abandoned farmland, the state implemented regulations to restore game species. By the 1940s and 1950s, concerns shifted from scarcity to overabundance. Reports began to emerge of deer damaging crops, ornamental shrubs, and forest regeneration efforts. The deer returned, first to forests, then to the edges of suburbia, and eventually into the city itself. Monroe County, including Rochester, was designated as a hotspot of overabundance by the 1970s.3
FIGURE ONE
Historical trajectory of white-tailed deer in Rochester, New York
(Ella Klopfer, 2025)
What makes Rochester so attractive to deer? The answer lies in what urban planners call “edge habitat,” the fragmented green spaces that emerge between human developments. Lawns, gardens, golf courses, and roadside vegetation provide consistent food sources. Parks and cemeteries become bedding grounds. With no apex predators and limited hunting, the suburbs offer a safe haven.
A 2013 case study at the Rochester Institute of Technology (RIT) revealed how even campus greenspaces function as ecological corridors. GIS mapping and field observation identified Red Creek and Park Point as key deer movement areas. Over 280 deer-vehicle collisions (DVCs) were documented between 1993 and 2007. These are staggering numbers for a relatively contained suburban campus.4 Nevertheless, the most important takeaway from this study is not simply the data, but what this data tells us about our urban landscape and how it clashes with nonhuman life.
FIGURE TWO
Map of Rochester and surrounding suburbs that highlights, in blue, major roadways and highways with high incidence of deer-vehicle collisions
(Ella Klopfer, 2025)
RIT is not a forest nor a rural field; it is a modern college campus surrounded by highways, apartment complexes, restaurants, and other human-made infrastructure. Yet deer do not seem to care about zoning or land use categories. They move freely across property lines, exploiting the fragmented green corridors scattered across these areas. What the RIT study reveals is that no space is purely “human.” Even planned, enclosed environments like campuses become part of a wider ecological space. It illustrates the everyday stakes of coexisting with deer. This is not an abstract policy problem or a distant wilderness issue; it is playing out in spaces where people live, work, and learn. Deer-vehicle collisions are not just statistics; they are real incidents that affect students, commuters, and staff.
PUBLIC HEALTH, CULTURE, AND POLICY
While DVCs are the most visible form of conflict, they are not the only concern. White-tailed deer are also key hosts for black-legged ticks, which transmit Lyme disease. Monroe County is considered a Lyme-endemic region, with rising infection rates linked to the spread of ticks in suburban areas.5 As deer feed and bed in residential yards, the boundary between natural and domestic space starts to disappear, increasing exposure to both accidents and illness.
FIGURE THREE
Public health risks associated with black-legged ticks in Rochester
(Ella Klopfer, 2025)
Other impacts include ecological degradation from overbrowsing, reduced plant diversity, and even mental stress among residents. These concerns are echoed by local officials who regularly witness the impacts of deer overpopulation. “The deer that are in this town have nowhere to go,” said Lt. Joe Coon of the Irondequoit Police Department, “So what they do is they reproduce and reproducing [and] so on and the numbers increase.”6 Coon emphasizes that this is not just a matter of nuisance; it is a pressing health and safety issue. Officer Heidi Zimmer shared a similar perspective: “I see a lot of deer at night. And unfortunately, there’s a lot of motor vehicle accidents. So that’s another reason why the program (hunting program) is so efficient and works well for the community.”6 Coon’s and Zimmer’s words resonate heavily within the Rochester community, as elderly homeowners, parents of small children, and gardeners all voice anxiety over their proximity to deer, ticks, or sudden collisions.
Deer do not just cross roads; they cross boundaries. As the sociologist Colin Jerolmack argues in his analysis of urban pigeons, some species become “problem animals” not simply because of what they do, but because of where they do it. The issue is not just that pigeons make messes or spread disease; it is that they show up in spaces humans have symbolically reserved for their own activity. In that sense, their presence violates a spatial order that humans have come to take for granted.7 The same logic applies to deer in Rochester. Their movement through suburban yards, shopping centers, school campuses, and four-lane highways do not just pose a physical threat; it challenges the cultural logic of separation between humans and “wild” nature. Deer are expected to live in forests and woodlands. When they appear in backyards or cause vehicle collisions, it forces people to confront the fact that nature is not staying in its designated zone. This blurring of boundaries produces not only logistical challenges but also a sense of discomfort.
The perception of deer in Rochester is confusing, and often shifting. One moment, they are seen as majestic symbols of nature and tranquility. Next, they are rebranded as threats: vectors for Lyme disease, destroyers of landscapes, and causes of car accidents. This dichotomy reflects what Jerolmack calls the “cultural-spatial logic” of animal categorization, where the acceptability of an animal is less about the animal itself and more about how its presence aligns or conflicts with human expectations. In Rochester, this conflict is especially visible in Irondequoit, a suburb just northeast of Rochester. In the late 20th century, Irondequoit passed ordinances banning bow hunting. This directly conflicted with the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation (DEC) attempts to manage overabundance through archery. Residents split into factions: groups like the Irondequoit Deer Action Committee advocated for controlled reduction, while Save Our Deer protested lethal methods, citing animal rights and ecosystem ethics.8 These debates reveal not just differing attitudes toward animals, but different understandings of what kind of community and culture people want to live in. Should suburbs resemble curated gardens or semi-wild landscapes? Can a public park host both children and hunters? The answers are political as much as ecological.
FIGURE FOUR
Key stakeholders involved in deer management in Rochester and upstate New York
(Ella Klopfer, 2025)
The City of Rochester and Monroe County have experimented with a range of strategies: archery seasons, Deer Damage Permits, public education, and even experimental immunocontraceptives. Some solutions, like bait-and-shoot programs or trap-and-transfer, are costly and unpopular. Others, like fencing or repellents, shift the burden to individual homeowners. The DEC and Cornell Cooperative Extension piloted a Citizen Task Force to mediate disagreements in the 1990s. While initially promising, it struggled to bridge value-based conflicts, especially when some groups were excluded or underrepresented.8 At RIT, despite clear evidence of high deer activity, no formal management plan was implemented, likely due to fears of public backlash and institutional image concerns.9 Deer management in Rochester is not stalled by a lack of data, but by a lack of consensus. In many ways, this reflects the broader challenge of urban wildlife governance. Science can point to best practices, but it cannot resolve cultural and political disagreement.
REFRAMING THE PROBLEM
As I researched deer in Rochester, my mindset and perspective on deer began to change. I realized that the deer in Rochester are no more out of place than we are. The problem is not just that deer moved in; it is that we have designed cities without expecting nature to persist within them. Nature that long predates our own existence. Deer are doing what we asked of them. We removed their predators, landscaped their food, and built neighborhoods that mimic forest edges. When they thrive, we call it a nuisance. But, in reality, it is a reflection of ecological success. Through this project, I have come to view deer not just as wildlife, but as participants in the city. They are part of its health system, its legal system, and its infrastructure.
So what do we do? Some advocate for more culling, others for coexistence. But before we jump into any one solution, we need to take a step back and ask a deeper question, not just about what to do, but about how we even understand the problem. The reality is that the deer are already here. They move through our city as confidently as they do through forests. If we fail to recognize this, we will continue to misdiagnose the situation and propose solutions that do not stick. Management without understanding leads to disagreements and inaction. Every proposed solution becomes polarizing because it is interpreted through a different set of cultural values. This is why deer management cannot just be about population numbers or ecological data. We must also confront how we have drawn imaginary boundaries between “nature” and “city,” and how those boundaries are no longer holding. This is not just a wildlife issue; it reflects how we relate to the nonhuman world in general. And until we see it as such, any effort to “manage” deer will be unsuccessful and divisive. To move forward, we need more than a policy; we need a shift in perspective. If Rochester aims to be a sustainable, livable city, it must include animals in that vision—not as intruders, but as beings whose needs are tied to our own. The question is not how to get deer out. It is how to live with them in a way that is ethical and safe.
Because in the end, the deer on the sidewalk are not out of place. They are home.
NOTES
1. Severinghaus, C. W., & Brown, C. P. (1956). History of the White-Tailed Deer in New York. New York Fish and Game Journal, 3(2), 129–167.
2. Ibid.
3. New York State Department of Environmental Conservation. (2018). Deer Management in Urban and Suburban New York: A Report to the New York State Senate and Assembly. https://www.dec.ny.gov/docs/wildlife_pdf/commdeermgmtguide.pdf.
4. Nau, P. (2013). A Study of the Deer Herd on the RIT Campus and the Relationship of Herd Activity and Habitat to the Incidence of Deer-Vehicle Collisions. RIT Scholar Works. https://scholarworks.rit.edu/theses/5945.
5. New York State Department of Environmental Conservation. (2018).
6. Myers, C. (2023, October 24). Bow hunt helps control Irondequoit’s deer population. Spectrum News 1. https://spectrumlocalnews.com/nys/rochester/news/2023/10/24/bow-hunt-helps-control-irondequoit-s-deer-population.
7. Jerolmack, C. (2008). How pigeons became rats: The cultural-spatial logic of problem animals. Social Problems, 55(1), 72–94.
8. Curtis, P. D., Decker, D. J., Stout, R. J., & Richmond, M. E. (1995). Suburban Deer Management: A Matter of Perspective. Cornell Cooperative Extension. https://www.aphis.usda.gov/wildlife_damage/nwrc/publications/95pubs/95-13.pdf.
9. Nau. (2013).