The story of the photo: Roe Deer

I’m trying out a new occasional blog series today. I’ll post a photo and tell the story of how it happened.

I visited Savernake Forest in Wiltshire recently. I was actually hunting around for woodcock, a bird I’ve only ever seen briefly once.  The like clearings inside mixed or coniferous forest, so I was walking off track, following deer trails – they are useful, but deer can jump fences and ass under low brambles, so I can’t always go where they do. I was scanning the ground looking for woodcock, who are superbly camouflaged and very hard to see, when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I had scared up a small herd of fallow deer that had been lying in cover several hundred metres away. I’d had no idea they were there.

I was upwind of the herd, so decided to walk around them until I was downwind. You will never sneak up on deer from upwind. They have a superb sense of smell and will run long before they can see you, or you them. But then I face another issue. It had been windy the last couple of weeks and the ground was littered with twigs, many half-buried under leaves. It was like trying to walk on bubble wrap. Step after careful step produced snaps that to me sounded very loud indeed. I’d completely lost sight of the deer, but at this time of year they will often run only a quarter of a mile or so before stopping. They can’t afford to keep wasting precious energy that they need for the cold months. So I pressed on.  Brambles occasionally snagged at my clothing or boots, making rasping sounds that also felt dangerously loud.

I’m wearing camouflage-pattern clothes as I usually do. That is to try and reduce the likelihood of disturbing the creatures I’m trying to watch. But of course they do nothing to stop sound or smell. I spent perhaps thirty minutes moving as slowly and silently as I could. There was no sign of the deer. They had clearly run in a different direction. Then, as I was about to turn back, a bramble bush about two hundred meters away wobbled.  Not a herd of fallow deer, but a lone roe deer doe. She was browsing, gradually pulling the leaves of the bramble. She hadn’t spotted me, but there was a real risk she would hear me.

I resorted to a stalking method I’ve used successfully before: I scuffed my feet rhythmically in the leaves as I stepped forward. It’s ironic that making more of the right kind of sound is better than making much less of the wrong kind. The scuffling sound mimics the noises make by foraging squirrels and blackbirds, who scuff around in the litter. For every pace, I planned where I was going to walk, assessed what lay on the ground, and tried to keep a tree or a bush between myself and the deer.  Eventually, I got within fifteen feet  (five metres) of the doe, who settled down for a nap.  She has no idea I am there.

Now it’s a waiting game. At this range, she will see any movement I make. But she is frustratingly hidden behind bushes and grasses.  The sun is setting, and the light will go soon. But then, a dogwalker passes by on a path less than 100 metres away. The dogwalker, like so many dogwalkers, has no idea that they are so close to wildlife. The dog, like so many, is off-lead, but doesn’t catch the deer’s scent. The deer, however, is absolutely focussed on  the dog. It stands immediately, and I take the chance to move slightly, peering around the trunk of a tree. The deer is scanning around, looking for danger. She looks straight at me. My camera is on silent shutter, and I take her photo. She still has no idea that I am there.

The dog barks again, and starts to come a little nearer. That’s too much for the deer, who bolts away, deeper into the forest. It saves me the effort of trying to back away silently, but also robs me of the chance to spend any more time with this beautiful creature. The dog continues running through the undergrowth. Neither it, not its owner, knows that I am watching them.

So here’s the picture I took. I hope that you enjoy it.