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.

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. 

You ain't seen me...right.

You ain't seen me...right. We're coming towards the end of the rutting season in the forest, and the demeanour of area's near 1500 Fallow Deer community is beginning to become calmer. You can still see evidence of their well used rutting stands and rubbing stumps, although the roars of their throaty barks are becoming far less frequent. Their business done, they've melted back into the woodland. Though they're still there...watching.

You lookin' at me?

You lookin' at me? You lookin' at me? You lookin' at me? Then who the hell else are you  lookin' at? You  lookin' at  me? Well, I'm the only one here. Who do the f*** do you think you're  lookin' at? Oh, yeah? Ok. This stag was clearly a De Niro fan.

Stag party

Although moving across open ground this stag with his harem were still well camouflaged amongst the bracken, heather and of Spy Holms, well, some of the lighter ones are easier to see, but if stationary you'd easily miss them. Rutting season must be winding down soon, I think it peaks around the end of October or the beginning of November.

In a rut.

So many deer in the forest right now, more than I can ever remember, their population appears to have mushroomed in recent years. At the moment they're very visible. It's rutting season and throughout the woods the Fallow stags roar and bellow at each other, and occasionally lock antlers in displays of prowess, as they go through their mating rituals. Today I was in Amberwood again and you could hear the bucks bellowing wherever you walked, you could tell they were all around you, all staking their claims and shouting their worth. Throughout the enclosure bucks with small groups of does, bucks with harems and lone bucks show out. The stands they choose to rut in are worn bare and muddy with activity, the bigger the group the more extensive the damage. The rutting stand in the photo is quite a large one, you can see another one behind it, and all through the wood are small rutting platforms where lone bucks call. Usually around these rutting stands are stumps which have become the focus of antler rubbing, being mostly coniferous stumps their bright orange inner punk wood sticks out amongst the muddy stands. It's quite a spectacle out there at the moment.

Silent walking

The forest felt proper autumnal this afternoon, it was warm and dank, a light rain blanketed the landscape, softening everything, it had moistened the leaves on the woodland floor just enough for you to move unheard through the stands. Periodically the tiny raindrops which clung to the canopy way up above, would merge and tumble earthwards in isolated down pours.  I became aware that I made no noise as I walked, I listened for any give away sound I may make as I move, though heard nothing. Nothing but for the drip drop of the rain and the occasional acorn, Burley Old was silent and still. And I moved silently through it. I'm fairly invisible too in my usual forest toned cloths. Though clearly not invisible enough, as although I freeze as soon as I see him, a fine white stag has clocked my approach, disappearing through the bracken he moves off with his girls at speed, and is lost in autumns jumble. A couple of ponies looked up, though realizing there's nothing going on, quickly return to their chomping.  And the stands are silent and still again. Burley Old is beautiful today, subtly lit through the holes in its canopy left by the fallen. I stand a while in tranquillity and take in the beauty of the woodland, I breath it in, it's magical, it's an antidote to some of the crappier elements of modernity, it's reviving and rejuvenating. Nice. Restored, I continued on with my damp walk leaving Burley Old and its inhabitants in peace. I'm grateful for the forest.

Young Turk

The Young Turks of the forest know the wheel turns and that their time is coming.

Stag

This is the leader of the 4 kings, a group of stags who frequent this part of the forest and roam together. He appears older than the others, so maybe it's more they're the 'king and 3 princes'? The light was fading and we'd clumsily stalked them for nearly half an hour before getting this clearish shot of him; they knew we were there, always managing to just position themselves behind something and as we moved so did they. Still, just being near them is a treat.