Page 78 - apr2023

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

20 77