It's unseasonably warm as Helena wildlife biologist Gene Hickman, volunteer Roger Bacon and I climb into Hickman's gray Jeep and drive away from the rendezvous point.

Throughout the Queen City, deer are quietly feeding on grass, shrubs and old crabapples. We know they're out there, but don't know where and how many we'll find as we begin to slowly drive the alleys and streets of the area south of the Capitol.

Hickman, who's been hired by the city and the Urban Wildlife Task Force to estimate the size of the herd, counted 61 in the same area two weeks prior.

He's barely finished giving me a quick breakdown of the process when I spot a mule deer grazing in a back yard on Winne Avenue. Hickman and his volunteers don't often snoop in residents' yards, but the homeowner is taking out her trash so Bacon asks permission to investigate.

A few moments later he returns. A doe and her fawn are munching on grass.

We set off again, slowly making our way north. Hickman has divided Helena into areas roughly similar to Helena Citizens Council districts, and drives each one at least twice. He and his small crew of volunteers count in the hours before dusk and after dawn, recording the deer's gender and rough age.

The ice and snow on Helena's streets has begun to melt, and the water running over the asphalt reflects the pale sky. The mountains ringing the Helena Valley wear a thin white shawl, but most yards in town sport a dormant mix of green and yellow grass -- the few inches of snow are melting, erasing telltale hoof prints around crabapple trees and shrubs.

The warm weather hasn't removed all hints of the herd. In one yard, scat surrounds a pair of trees.

Hickman points to other clues. Some yards are surrounded by tall fences, and trees and shrubs are encircled with chicken wire -- defense. These residents have had deer in their yards, and probably quite often. So they're here, somewhere, he says.

We see a variety of defenses. Tall, thick hedges work well, Hickman says, because deer don't like to jump a broad obstacle. Deer also don't like to vault barriers they can't see over or through, and a short fence can become a more formidable obstacle if bushes and trees are planted just inside of it.

"There's nothing foolproof, except a really good, tall fence," Hickman says. "And even then, one day you might find a deer in there."

He tells a few stories about deer -- like the doe that used to jump a seemingly too-tall fence at Fort Harrison -- and other Helena wildlife, like the occasional reports of black bears or mountain lions spotted about town.

Hickman knows his deer census isn't going to be perfect. Some deer can't be found (he guesses he misses about 10 percent) and others move and might be counted twice in different areas.

"People keep thinking we're going to tell them how many deer there are in Helena," Hickman says. "It's impossible

"It's a snapshot in time," he adds.

The census, which will be complete later this month, will have some measure of accuracy and will give city officials and residents a bit of baseline knowledge -- future counts could track the growth or decline in numbers. If city officials decide to cull the herd, annual censuses would be a measure of success.

Hickman and his volunteers record the gender and age of the deer, providing information about the population and where it's heading -- more does per buck could mean the herd is set to expand, as would a higher ratio of younger deer, he says.

We keep driving, peering out the windows and looking for a set of antlers or a black-tipped tail in side yards and along garages. We see none. In other areas of the city, Hickman has counted 101 deer in a single session. Sometimes he sees many fewer.

We see no more deer. He and Bacon drop me off after the allotted hour and continue on. The next day Hickman tells me they saw just two more, for a total of four -- the fewest he's counted yet.

He knows to guess rather than expect -- he was surprised to see large numbers of deer in mobile home parks in Helena, and supposes the lack of dogs and fences, combined with the relative shelter from the wind, makes the areas attractive to deer.

The herd also tends to congregate near large buildings, in areas with lots of grass and clear lines of sight -- the Capitol and St. Peter's Hospital, for example.

He thinks the Bill Roberts Golf Course sees a heavy number of deer at night, but of course he's not sure.

"Nobody knows what a deer is thinking," Hickman says.

Larry Kline can be reached at 447-4075 or larry.kline@helenair.com.