Reindeer: The Real Animals Worksheet Download

Look at that furry animal with big antlers! That is a reindeer! Did you know girl reindeer grow antlers too?

Reindeer carry those antlers across the snowy far north. Their hooves are soft like sponges in summer. In winter the hooves get hard so they grip the ice.

Those strong hooves help reindeer walk hundreds of miles each year. The Sami people herd reindeer in the far north. Antlers, hooves and even a nose that warms cold air help reindeer live in the snow!

Have you ever met a reindeer, an animal of the snowy north? In North America, people call this animal a caribou. Moms and dads both grow antlers, which are bony branches on the head!

Those big antlers fall off and grow back every single year. Reindeer hooves change with the seasons, just like their antlers do. In summer they are soft like sponges, but in winter they turn hard.

Those tough hooves help reindeer walk on snow and ice for miles. Some herds walk hundreds of miles each year to find food! Best of all, a reindeer's nose warms the icy air it breathes.

Wow, did you know that a reindeer mom can wear antlers just like a dad? Reindeer live in the snowy Arctic, and in North America people call them caribou. Both males and females grow antlers, which is unusual for deer, and the antlers can look like bare tree branches.

Those big antlers are not the only surprise, because a reindeer's feet change with the seasons too. In summer the hooves have soft, spongy pads that help the animal walk on wet ground. In winter the pads shrink, and the hard edge of each hoof grips ice and digs through snow to find food.

Digging and walking are big jobs, since reindeer travel very far. Some herds trek hundreds of miles in a yearly trip called a migration, which means moving to a new place to find food. Along the way, a reindeer's nose works like a heater, warming the freezing air before it reaches the lungs.

Those long trips are well known to the Sami people of northern Europe, who care for herds of reindeer. A herd is a big group of animals that stays together, and the Sami have moved with theirs across the snowy land for a very long time. Not many animals have a nose that works like a heater and feet that change with the seasons, so reindeer are ready for any winter!

Imagine you are standing in a snowy northern field, and you hear a soft click, click, click. Out of the mist walks a reindeer, and the clicking comes from tendons in its legs. In Europe and Asia they are reindeer, but wild ones in North America are caribou. Look up, and you'll see a crown of branching antlers!

Those antlers hold a surprise, because both male and female reindeer grow them. In most other deer, only the males do. Antlers are bone, and they fall off and regrow each year, covered in soft, fuzzy skin called velvet. Males usually lose theirs in late fall or early winter, but females often keep theirs until spring.

Antlers are not the only thing that changes with the seasons, because hooves change too. In summer the pads are soft and spongy for wet tundra, the cold, treeless land of the far north. In winter the pads shrink, so the sharp rim of each hoof shows and works like a little shovel in snow. Even a reindeer's nose helps by warming freezing air before it reaches the lungs.

With warm noses and shovel hooves, reindeer are ready for some of the longest walks on land. Some caribou herds travel more than 1,000 miles in a year, farther than driving from New York City to Chicago. The Sami people of northern Europe have herded reindeer for many centuries. So when you hear that click, click, click, remember a traveler who may walk over 1,000 miles a year!

Picture a December morning in northern Norway, where the sun stays hidden and the snow glows blue. Click-click-click! That soft sound comes from a herd of reindeer trotting past in clouds of breath. Tendons in their legs snap over bones with each step, so a herd sounds like snapping fingers. In North America, these animals go by another name: caribou.

Whether you call them reindeer or caribou, you will see the same crown of antlers. In most kinds of deer, only males grow antlers, but reindeer females grow them too. Antlers are made of bone, and they fall off and regrow every year. Males usually drop theirs in late fall or early winter, while females keep theirs until their calves are born in spring.

Spring brings soggy, thawing tundra, the treeless land of the far north, and hooves have a trick for that. In summer, their foot pads are soft and spongy, and the wide hooves keep them from sinking. In winter, the pads shrink and tighten, so the sharp hoof rim grips ice and digs through snow for lichen, a crusty food. Even their noses are built for cold, with twisty passages that warm freezing air before it reaches the lungs.

Warm noses and grippy hooves come in handy, because some herds walk farther than almost any other land animals. Wildlife scientists say some caribou herds walk about 1,000 miles or more a year, farther than the drive from New York City to Chicago. Even newborn calves can stand within hours and soon trot along with the herd!

People have followed herds like these for centuries. The Sami people of northern Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Russia herd reindeer, as do other Arctic peoples. Herders travel with them through the seasons, and reindeer can pull sleds too. Somewhere on the tundra right now, a herd is on the move, clicking with every step.

Here is a winter puzzle: you spot a reindeer wearing big antlers, so is it a male or a female? The answer may surprise you, and finding it takes us deep into the frozen north. Reindeer roam the Arctic and northern forests of Norway, Siberia, Alaska, and Canada, where the same animal is called a caribou. Picture a shaggy creature with a coat of hollow hairs that traps heat like a puffy winter jacket.

That puzzle has a neat answer, and it starts with the antlers on that animal's head. Reindeer are unusual among deer because both males and females grow antlers. Males, called bulls, drop theirs in late fall or early winter, but females keep theirs all winter and shed them in spring, around the time their calves are born. Every summer, new antlers sprout wrapped in fuzzy skin called velvet.

Whether antlers are velvety or bare, every reindeer must dig for dinner in winter, and their feet are made for the job. In summer, their hoof pads are soft and spongy like sneakers, gripping the wet, boggy ground of the tundra. In winter, the pads shrink and tighten, exposing a sharp hoof rim that bites into ice and scoops snow aside to reach lichen, a crusty food. Even their noses are clever, with twisting passages inside that warm freezing air before it reaches the lungs.

Warm noses and tough feet come in handy, because many caribou herds spend the year on the move. In spring, they head from their winter homes toward places where mothers give birth, and in autumn they walk back again. Wildlife biologists say some herds travel more than 1,000 miles in a year, which is farther than the distance from New York City to Atlanta. Even the youngest travelers keep up, since a newborn calf can stand and follow its mother within hours of birth.

People of the far north have followed these traveling herds for a very long time. The Sami, who live in northern Norway, Sweden, Finland, and part of Russia, have herded reindeer for centuries, moving with the animals through the seasons. Other Arctic peoples, such as the Nenets in Siberia, herd reindeer too, using them for meat, warm hides, and pulling sleds. So when you picture a reindeer with antlers in the snow, remember our puzzle: chances are she is a mother-to-be, wearing her antlers all winter long.

Think only male deer wear antlers? Reindeer are ready to turn that idea upside down! Both males and females grow them, which is unusual in the deer family, and the branching crowns look like bare winter trees above the herd. In Europe and Asia these animals are called reindeer, but in North America the same species is called caribou. They roam the Arctic tundra, a treeless land where winter wind feels like sandpaper made of ice. I picture a reindeer as a walking survival kit, since nearly every part of its body is a piece of gear.

The toughest gear starts at ground level, with hooves that change with the seasons. In summer, the pads of a reindeer's feet are soft and spongy, which grips wet, boggy ground. As winter nears, the pads shrink and tighten, exposing the sharp hoof rim, which bites into ice and works like a built-in shovel. Under the snow hides lichen, a crusty blend of fungus and algae that reindeer sniff out and dig up all winter. Even their eyes change: scientists in Norway found they shift from golden in summer to blue in winter, which may help in dim light.

Dark winters also mean bitter cold, and a reindeer's nose is ready for that too. Inside it, thin curled bones form a maze of passages that warms air on its way to the lungs. On the way out, the same maze captures heat and moisture from each breath. Antlers follow a calendar: big males usually drop theirs after the autumn mating season, while females keep theirs through winter. So many antlered reindeer you might spot in December are females, and biologists think those antlers help them defend a feeding spot in the snow.

Even a good feeding spot runs out eventually, so many herds are always on the move. Some North American caribou herds walk more than 1,000 miles in a year, according to wildlife biologists, one of the longest land journeys of any animal. Can you imagine a newborn keeping up? Calves can stand within hours of birth and soon trot beside their mothers. For centuries, the Sami people of northern Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Russia have herded reindeer, moving with the seasons, and other Arctic peoples, such as the Nenets of Russia, do the same.

Those herding traditions live on, but life on the tundra is changing. The Arctic is warming faster than the world as a whole, and in some winters rain falls on snow and freezes into a crust that locks the lichen away. Wildlife scientists have found that many wild herds have shrunk in recent decades, so researchers and herding families are watching closely. Protecting the tundra protects a remarkable traveler and the traditions of people who have lived beside it for generations. After all, an animal whose feet change with the seasons and whose nose warms the air can cross more than 1,000 miles of frozen north.

Some caribou herds are so enormous that they number in the hundreds of thousands, a shaggy moving crowd bigger than many cities. Whether you say reindeer, as people do in Europe and Asia, or caribou, as people do in North America, it is the same species of deer. It is also the one kind of deer in which females regularly grow antlers, so a herd can look like a moving forest of bare branches. Many live on the tundra, a vast, treeless plain where winter lasts for months, and surviving there takes special equipment built right into their bodies.

That equipment starts with the feet, because a reindeer's hooves change with the seasons. In summer, the footpads are soft and spongy, which grips wet, boggy tundra. In winter, they shrink and tighten, exposing the hard rim of the hoof, which works like a built-in ice grip and shovel. That shovel matters because winter food, such as lichens, often lies buried beneath the snow. Even their eyes adjust: researchers at University College London reported in 2013 that reindeer eyes shift from golden in summer to blue in winter, which may help them see in dim light.

Seeing in dim light is only half of a polar winter's challenge, because breathing air far below freezing is the other half. Inside a reindeer's nose, thin, curled bones form a huge surface packed with blood vessels that warms icy air before it reaches the lungs. On the way out, the same passages capture heat and moisture from each breath. A coat of hollow hairs, which trap air like the stuffing of a puffy jacket, adds more warmth and also helps reindeer float when they swim rivers.

Rivers are just small obstacles on a much bigger journey, because many caribou herds migrate every year. According to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, the Porcupine caribou herd of Alaska and Canada's Yukon can travel as much as 1,500 miles in a year, one of the longest land migrations on Earth. In spring it heads for the coastal plain, where breezes bring some relief from swarms of biting insects. Calves born there can stand within an hour and run within a day, which is lucky, since the herd cannot wait for them.

People of the north have long had to keep pace with the herds, and the Sami of Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Russia built a whole way of life around their yearly rhythm. Sami herders guide reindeer between winter forests and summer mountain or coastal pastures, using them for meat, hides for clothing, and bone and antler for tools. Far to the east, Nenets herders in Siberia travel hundreds of miles with their herds each year, living in portable tents called chums. New inventions have changed the work, from snowmobiles in the twentieth century to GPS collars today, yet knowledge of snow and weather passed down through families still guides the herders.

Old knowledge and new gadgets fit together because the animals themselves follow such dependable patterns, right down to their antlers. Males usually shed their antlers in late fall or early winter after the breeding season, while females keep theirs until they give birth in spring. One explanation is that antlers help pregnant females defend the small patches of food they dig from the snow. When snow piles up outside next winter, remember that somewhere in the far north a herd is using its hooves like shovels to uncover the next meal.

In 2013, a team of scientists at University College London announced a discovery that sounds like a magic trick: a reindeer's eyes change color with the seasons. In summer the back of the eye glows golden, but in winter's dark it turns deep blue, helping the animal catch more faint Arctic light. That one detail hints at how completely winter has shaped these animals. Picture a stocky deer with broad hooves and a crown of branching antlers, trudging through blowing snow. Europeans call it a reindeer, while North Americans usually call the wild ones caribou, yet both names describe one species, Rangifer tarandus. Its secret is not one trick but a whole toolkit, each tool solving a different problem of the far north.

The most visible tool in that kit grows right out of the skull: antlers. In most kinds of deer only the males grow them, but among reindeer both males and females do. The timing is a clue, too. Males usually drop their antlers after the autumn breeding season, while females keep theirs through winter and shed them around calving time in late spring. Each new set grows under velvet, a fuzzy skin packed with blood vessels, and counts among the fastest-growing tissues known in mammals. One leading explanation for the females' winter antlers is that they help defend a feeding spot dug out from under the snow, though researchers are still testing the idea.

Digging through snow takes serious equipment, and reindeer hooves change with the seasons to do the job. In summer the footpads are soft and spongy, gripping wet, springy tundra. As winter approaches, the pads shrink and tighten, exposing the sharp rim of the hoof, which bites into ice and scrapes away snow. Beneath that snow waits lichen, a crusty partnership between a fungus and algae that most large mammals cannot live on but reindeer can digest. Their coat helps, too, because its hairs are hollow and trap air, which insulates the animal and helps it float. That buoyancy makes reindeer strong swimmers, and that matters when a herd reaches a river.

Rivers are just one obstacle on the road, and the road can be very long. Some caribou herds in Alaska and Canada travel well over 1,000 miles in a year, among the longest land migrations of any mammal. Breathing freezing air that whole way would be punishing without one more adaptation: folded passages inside the nose warm each breath before it reaches the lungs and recapture moisture from each exhale. Calves are born in late spring and can stand within hours and follow the herd within a day or two, so even the newest travelers keep moving. Watching those journeys, some people of the far north chose to travel alongside the animals instead of only hunting them.

Traveling with the herds, rather than only hunting them, is the heart of reindeer herding, a way of life practiced by the Sami of northern Norway, Sweden, and Finland and Russia's Kola Peninsula, and by the Nenets and other peoples of Siberia. Historians and archaeologists disagree about when herding began, with some pointing to evidence thousands of years old and others arguing that large-scale herding developed only in the last thousand years or so. One of the clearest written clues comes from Ohthere, a Norse traveler who visited King Alfred of England around the 890s and reported owning 600 tame reindeer. That account shows tame herds existed by then, but it cannot settle the bigger debate, because one traveler describes only one place and moment. What is certain is that herding peoples have long relied on reindeer for meat, milk, hides for clothing and tents, and power for pulling sleds.

Sleds still glide across the snow today, though many herders now share the work with snowmobiles, GPS collars, and even drones. Herding remains a livelihood and an important part of cultural identity for many Sami families, although only a portion of Sami people herd today. Herders now face new challenges: a warming Arctic brings more winter rain, which can freeze into a crust of ice over the lichen and lock food away from the animals. It is a reminder that the same traits that make reindeer so well suited to the cold also tie them closely to it. Few animals show that fit more vividly than one whose eyes turn from gold to blue as the seasons change.