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E60F5D14-1BB2-4593-8F31-3520C22344BE The sight of Roe Deer has become increasingly common in Brampton in recent years (see link to other posts within the Village blog), but they always feel like an encounter with a wilder, slightly separate world. Usually, the sighting it at some distance and commonly it is for a fleeting moment before the deer melt into the safety of woodland. However, the other evening the encounter was closer. It was all the more surprising because, as we walked along with the Whippets, conversation was in full flow – not the whispers and hand signals that so often have to accompany a deer stalk. The wind was in our favour, blowing from the deer to us – otherwise they would have sensed us, a hundred yards further back. But on this occasion it was an eye to eye meeting, as can be appreciated by the resultant photos.

 

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Brampton Autumn – the Roe

September 4, 2016

The deep repetitive bark of the Roe Buck echoes around the wood. A sure sign that the rutting season is in full swing as the buck, high on testosterone, marches in wide circles and calls to those that would hear.  A somewhat primeval sound and one that has filled the valley for millennia.

Owls on Maundy Thursday

April 4, 2015

On the evening of Maundy Thursday Oxnead was quiet. It was bright and slightly chilly Spring evening. A single Roedeer nibbled at growing reed tips on the Drying Ground. This area is part of the Common which was, at one time strung with lines for drying washing and now colonised by reeds, Flag Irises and willow. A little corner that had been ignored by the drainage contractors.

A few steps further and we watched a very white Barn Owl slowly survey the ditches as she quartered the ground. The river was reflective and slow flowing. Disturbed only by a territorial Mute Swan – perhaps defending a hidden nest nearby. A second hunting Barn Owl, this time a dusky fawn colouration, watched us as we passed from a fence-post perch. 

There is a small footbridge over the little River Mermaid where is joins the Bure. It is a good place to stop and to appreciate the silence of the Bure and the grazing marshes. As we watched some duck winnowed in and a solitary Snipe called as it purposefully made its way somewhere or other. Then the pace changed. As if rowing through the air, a Short Eared Owl appeared. A faster and more effortless flight than that of Barn Owl. Its long wings alternately fixed in a short  glide, then swimming through the air, as is flew in wide arcs over the marsh. Flying at around six feet off the ground and occasionally braking, twisting and pouncing in a shallow cork screw when something caught its eye. As it passed us we caught a glimpse of those intent yellowy-orange eyes set in a flat facial disc. It was aware of our presence but carried on hunting. Presumably refuelling en route to the moor or tundra breeding ground.

We returned home exhilarated by the 

Two hours before sunrise and an insistent and regular barking call echoed around the village. I gradually tuned in, at first subconsciously and then awake. My first thought was that a fox was marking its’ territory. But it was only late Summer and the fox generally calls during those crisp and frosty Winter nights.   Besides, this call lacked the scream note that is characteristic of the vixen’s call. This was had a more guttural note. Whatever it is was initially progressing west along the old railway line, the call getting more distant, until at some point it turned and covered the same ground again. It dawned on me that it could only be a deer. Probably one of the Roebucks from Keeper’s Wood. The combine harvester had just cut the wheat surrounding the wood and the deer horizons had extended. It is the rutting season and this buck was spreading his message and clearly announcing his presence. With this thought I went back to sleep.