I departed from my usual route this morning, branching off into a quieter part of the woods that I hadn’t explored for a while.
It’s a steep descent, followed by an equally steep climb on a path that wends through sun-dappled glades decorated with bluebells – at their glorious best on bright spring days like this. There was plenty of birdsong, punctuated by the occasional louder burst from a wren, but otherwise it was a pretty tranquil scene.
Suddenly, the peace was shattered by a commotion on the opposite side of the ravine from me. Two roe deer appeared, running hell-for-leather along the side of the valley. They can reach speeds of 37mph, according to the Woodland Trust. These two may not have been going quite that fast, but they were managing to slalom athletically through the trees at a hell of a pace. As they ran, they made a loud barking noise, like a dog with a sore throat.
Strangely, after a short distance, they turned round and sprinted back in the same direction.
So what was it that spooked this pair so much? Roe deer have no natural predators in the UK, and I couldn’t see anyone – or anything – else around. Maybe I was the culprit, although I do try to adopt the wildlife photographer’s motto of “walk softly and carry a big lens,” and I was a fair distance away on the opposite side of the ravine.
It was very different from my usual encounters with roe deer in my more familiar parts of the woods. Only yesterday, I spent about ten minutes filming a doe from about 25 metres away. She was aware of my presence and broke off from feeding every now and then to have an inquisitive look at me, before eventually sauntering off through the trees at a sedate pace.