Page 21 - apr2023
P. 21

April 2023                                                                           April 2023

                                                                                            Stood  leaning  on  that  stone  that  was
                                                                                            believed  to  have  been  placed  by  the
                                                                                            Romans  as  a  road  marker,  whilst  also  being
                                                                                            surrounded   by   Bronze   Age   barrows
                                                                                            containing  burial  grounds  and  marking
                                                                                            meeting  and  ritual  spots  I  always  reflect  on
                                                                                            who went before.  Who else has stood there
                                                                                            on a moonlit night looking out over the valley
                                                                                            t h r o u g h    t h e    c e n t u r i e s    p a s t .

                                                                                            To my left between the gorse and heather I
                                                                                            have become aware of a small herd of sika,
                                                                                            feeling  their  presence  for  some  time.
                                                                                            Because  I  have  been  still  they  have  crept
                                                                                            ever nearer, as always one has broken away
                                                                                            and  advances  alone  to  try  and  determine
                                                                                            the  threat.  I  slowly  turn  my  head  and  we
                                                                                            observe  each  other  from  around  forty  feet
                                                                                            apart.

                                                                                                                        As  usual  at  night  the  deer  does  not  spook,  it
                                                                                                                        bobs its head from side to side as is their way to
                                                                                                                        try  to  get  focus.  Although  deer  have  fantastic
                                                                                                                        motion vision aided by the fact their eye shape
                                                                                                                        allows  310  degree  vision,  meaning  they  can
                                                                                                                        literally  see  behind  them...in  comparison  our
                                                                                                                        vision  range  is  120  degree...their  detail  vision  is
                                                                                                                        poor.  At  night  against  a  mono  landscape  this
                                                                                                                        works  in  our  favour.  Don't  make  sudden  moves
                                                                                                                        and  they  will  come  ever  closer.  If  there  is  no
                                                                                                                        wind,  as  tonight,  they  have  no  choice.  I  have
                                                                                                                        had  the  scout  deer  come  to  within  six  feet
                                                                                                                        before  catching  scent  or  seeing  enough  detail
                                                                                                                        to  realise  I  am  a  human.  Some  will  just  slowly
                                                                                                                        back off and go on their way, others will shriek to
                                                                                                                        the herd and run.
                                                                                            Reluctantly I slowly stand to leave, the sika silently melt away into the shadows. Its
                                                                                            already nearing midnight, time has a habit of passing you by at night. Night is a
                                                                                            time  for  imagining  and  up  on  Black  Hill  with  all  its  history  that  comes  easily.
                                                                                            Downhill now to Turners Puddle, the pebble and gravel track impossible to walk
                                                                                            quietly.  Thankfully  I  soon  reach  the  softer  track  through  the  last  stretch  of
                                                                                            woodland. Passing through the little gate I enter another holloway, before I dip
                                                                                            below  the  hedgerow  I  see  cattle  lying  together  huddled  against  the  hedge.
                                                                                            Steam rises from their breath and bodies in the cold night air, the sweet smell of
                                                                                            silage  from  their  nearby  feeder  hangs  in  the  still  air.  To  one  side,  against  the

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