Riverside totem

I enjoy coming across a woodland totem, there's something about folk creating these archaic features that resonates, something timeless; highlighting maybe our subconscious connection, or our desire for connection, to a bygone age and the magic and ritual of connecting with that ancient landscape. I'm not adverse to setting one up myself, for me it's definitely partly the pursuit of connection to a shrouded past, the world of ancestors and a wilder wood.

Red Deer

The number of Red Deer (Cervus elephus) around the forest would have appeared to have grown over the last few years. There was a time when I would've been  surprised to have stumbled upon a handful of Red Deer amongst the stands, now though it's become a common event to see groups of 15 plus milling about. A few hundred meters further and we spotted another group of similar number. Spring stirs through the stands.

Sneaky deer

 

I've not heard a stag roar for a while now, the rut must be coming to an end. As a consequence the groups of deer are beginning to dissipate. We disturbed a large group of Fallow Deer as we headed up from Bratley Water towards Bratley enclosure. They clocked our approach and quickly scattered; a few minutes later I spotted two of the stags back to back hidden amongst the browning bracken and scrub, a good defensive arrangement.

The Rut

Maybe through novelty and the access to new territory, the recently unenclosed Reinfield’s Sandy’s has become a Mecca for deer. The rut is most certainly on. Walking along the central track to my right I could hear hidden antlers clashing, off to my left deep in the stands a stag barked his guttural call, whilst ahead of me a group of fallow does cross the track watching Geoff and I hesitantly, before hastily disappearing into the safe darkness of a coniferous stand. A young white fallow stag stands clearly silhouetted against the dark greens and browns of autumn; I imagined him ironically saying 'you can’t see me, right', but I can, they do tend to stand out some. White fallow deer are a far more common sight that they were 20 years ago. The deer are everywhere, we see dozens, even when I can’t see them, I know their eyes are watching me pass.

Change

 

Change is about in the forest, you can feel it. The wheel is turning and the inhabitants of the forest know it. Invisible amongst the bracken choked stands of Brinken Wood a stag grunts, a precursor to autumns rut.

I see you

 

Suffering from leucism, a partial deficiency in pigmentation, this fallow deer sticks out like a sore thumb. I wondered if it knew it was a different colour from its peers, or it's peers knew, though they don't seen to mind or ostracise it, even though they're a total give away and surely a liability. Often if it wasn't for the white deer you'd miss a tucked away rangle of deer altogether.

In a rut

The roars of stags showing off echo through the forest, a show of dominance, we hear him long before we can see him. Strutting around his well established rutting ground, a fair harem around him, he's alert for any challengers, he needs to be, it's a winner takes all game.

Young Bucks

 

A bachelor party of velvet antlered young bucks chill on the edge of Backley Holmes. Fallow Deer have been a common sight in the forest since their reintroduction in the 11th century, although they're originally thought to have been brought here by the Romans. These boys are enjoying their lazy days of summer, it wont be long before September's here and with it the beginning of the rut.

Deer

You've seen far few deer in the forest of late, and even then only in ones and twos; so it was nice to catch this group out in the open this morning on the edge of Poundhill Heath. As numbers exploded towards unsustainable levels nessesity has required the forests' deer population to be culled, and over 2000 have been.  A sad nessesity.

Pigs!

 

This morning the forest appeared quiet on the surface, although underneath that quiet there was a lot of natural energy amongst the stands. We could hear stags growling, barking and clashing racks somewhere off deeper in the woods as they vied for mating rights; cattle watched us pass with suspicion as they mooch and graze the open woodland; a stampede of a dozen or more ponies thundered through the Rise towards us, only veering off at the last moment; whilst a troop of pigs eagerly at pannage grubbed up the woodland and riverbank with their noses in search of acorns and mast, only pausing briefly to investigate us and say hello. It's fascinating to watch the pigs at pannage and their antics, they're real characters. This is natures last hurrah before our current cycle ends, and the welcome rest until the new suns' birth when the cycle begins again.    

The Boys

 

Change is afoot in the forest. No matter how stuffed our weather is the wheel still turns, and as we fast approach rutting season the deer are on the move, the stags are getting frisky and you're beginning to hear their barking echoing through the stands. This morning as we followed Fletchers Water near Queen Bower (site of a Medieval hunting lodge) we crossed a group of seven or so youngish looking stags engaged in boisterous activity; who disappeared off single file across Fletchers Green when they realised they were being watched, periodically pausing to look back and ensure we weren't following.

Ober

Ober Water below Markway Bridge early this morning.

Lazin' on a sunny afternoon

 

The Kinks sang; I love to live so pleasantly, live this life of luxury, lazin' on a sunny afternoon. The forests' deer and ponies aren't bothered what time of day it is, they'll laze in the sun whenever. They weren't even bothered that one man and his dog (surely both high on their dangerous predator list) were just meters away watch them; you know, I don't believe the forests' deer could any longer be classified as wild.

Heads up

Depending on who's teaching, there are either 5 or 7 S's of successful camouflage and concealment, our friend the deer here broke 3 of them; with a sudden movement she caught my eye, the shape and colour pattern of her head were incongruous with the surrounding heather and coupled with the silhouette she created popping her head above the flora she stuck out like a sore thumb.

Quiet returns

What a difference a week makes, last week the forest was alive with deer participating in the rut; every thicket rustling with does, whilst the calls of stags echoed through the stands and out over the open heath. Today, not a sight, not a sound; we've not seen or heard a deer so far this week. In nature everything has it's time. I imagine the successful stags will no doubt be sleeping it off somewhere before they try and regain the weight they've lost before winter sets in; then both stags and does will herd together mostly in single sex groups until next rutting season.

I see ya

Rutting season continues and although we stay well clear of the rutting grounds, deer can be found skulking everywhere; Geoff's ears prick up at every clump of bracken we pass, often with good reason as a deer will usually break cover bolting off only to disappear again as quickly as it appeared. Geoff and I watched the stag above for a minute or two as it watched us before trotting off deeper into the woods. It's a busy time of year out here in the forest as the inhabitants conclude their year and prepare for winter's closing.

Mornin'

 Mornin' m'deer.  

The Boys

I'm constantly surprised, and somewhat concerned, by the increasing carefree nonchalance of the forest's deer; Geoff and I sat in plain sight watching a group of young stags for 10 mins, and the boys continued their grazing as if we weren't there. How rude. Don't they know that historically Geoff and I represent their biggest predatory threat, well, not us personally, but humans and canines; where's the acknowledgement of our predatory prowess? That said, they could obviously see that we were nothing but a pair of harmless chumps. Still, on a serious note, I've noticed that over the years how the forest's deer have become far less concerned about humans than they used to be, or maybe should be; back in the day they'd have been gone at the mere hint of us, and to see a deer close up was a rare treat. 

Wooden deer

A wooden doe suns herself amongst Holiday Hill's stands.

Fallow doe

A curled up fallow doe, it's a deceptive photo. In truth the Deer's badly injured, most likely the victim of a vehicle on the A31...only a few hundred meters away. Injured animals are sadly an all too familiar sight on or near the forest roads, scores of animals (ponies, cows, pigs, donkeys, deer) are either killed or injured on the forest's roads every year. It's a very sad state of affairs, that never appears to improve. I had no idea how long it had laid injured, there was little we could do other than phone the forestry, give a description and grid reference; they said they'd pass on the information to the agisters and asked if we could wait for 5/10 minutes just in case the agister needed to speak to me. We waited, standing a ways back, out of sight line of the deer. Several of the ponies grazing around us, moved in to investigate, closer and closer, their noses probing...until the deer raised it's head they jumped back. Weirdly they stared at Geoff and I, as if accusingly. I told them it wasn't us, though I imagine the homo sapien/canine combo comes with uncomfortable connotations to most animals. Half an hour passed and no call from the agister. By now the doe was still, her only movements were shallow breaths, she wouldn't suffer much longer. I decided to move on, there was nothing more to do, and I didn't want our presence in any way to add to her suffering. I petitioned the goddess to grant the doe a swift passage to the summer lands to join the herds of her forebears, and sombrely disappeared into the nearby stands.