Any lover of wildlife in the UK will appreciate how special mammal sightings are. We don’t have the largest collection of native mammals, but it cannot be denied that we do have some rather beautiful and iconic creatures sharing this island with us. It certainly never fails to take my breath away when I spy a fox, or a herd of deer, or even a tenacious little ratty. I hope the feeling of being blessed never goes away but I guess we’ll see how desensitised I get over time!
I was trying to photograph deer yesterday, creeping as stealthily as I could from tree to wall, to another tree…when they spotted me for the second time. Being quite new to wildlife photography I haven’t yet honed those sleuthing skills and I’d practically tripped over them at our first encounter. I know that they like a particular area in the evenings so I went to see if I could snap a photo. Maybe in focus this time? Please. I sighed with dismay that they weren’t at the usual spot and proceeded to stomp good naturedly down the hill to look for another likely place. I lurched to a stop halfway down, “Oh but they are here!”. Bloody loads of them too. Every single pair of round, velvety ears was turned in my direction in horror. A grumbling, heavy-footed, blue-haired monstrosity has come to ruin the evening meal. Naturally I barely had time to turn the camera on, let alone raise it, before thirteen white-striped fallow deer butts disappeared into the woods. Bugger.
I decided to turn the stealth back on, albeit a little too late. When they run they don’t usually go very far. I’m not sure if this is because of the nature of their home (patches of field and woodland, small roads crisscrossing throughout) that keeps them from bolting too far or if it’s just how they operate. Maybe they’re confident in their camouflage and satellite dish ears? As well they should be! At least pitted against the likes of me.
I spent an hour waiting, creeping a bit closer every fifteen minutes or so. I should have waited longer. They spotted me easily. I hardly blend in, I was wearing stompy boots and…well, they had just seen me stalking around an hour ago. As they evaded my lens a second time I started to think more about my impact on them, over my disappointment. Maybe being “hunted” is part of everyday life for a deer, despite the lack of wolves around here. Do they spend the day spooking at the slightest noise? Or perhaps I’ve just negatively impacted over an hour of valuable feeding time and made them wary of this favourite evening spot for the next few days?
Completely unrelated to the fact that I’m crap at deer stalking, I’d like to explore other ways of enjoying their presence here. I ordered a motion sensing wildlife camera. Hopefully I can traumatise fewer liquid-eyed Bambis when it arrives! Stay tuned for what I’m certain will be five hours footage of my mum’s cat.
Wild Girl Wanders 