Page 24 - BR May 2023

May 2023 May 2023

favourite stopping point, I lean on the gate looking out towards the hills to the
West. It does not take long, I hear approaching hooves, galloping as one. In the
day we rarely hear the deer but in the silence of night they are as loud as they
are distinctive when moving fast.
Out of the shadows the herd comes, moving fast towards me from the lower end
of the field. No doubt they were grazing when I came up through the wood and
alongside the field. Unseen by me they would have tracked my progress and
were now coming to investigate. As usual the herd stop around fifty feet short of
me and one breaks away. I remain motionless leaning on the gate, looking with
my peripheral vision as it slowly approaches. It stops every few yards, head
bobbing for focus just like the scout at Devils Stone earlier. I remain motionless with
shoulders stooped to disguise the human silhouette, drawing it ever nearer. There
is not a breath of wind so scent does not give me away, as mentioned previously
with their poor detail vision if I do not move a muscle or make direct eye contact
it will come ever closer.
It comes to around ten feet. This is the closest I have had one come. I move my
eyes to make eye contact, again like the one earlier we observe each other for a
while. No head bobbing now, it is close enough. As is the way the later the hour
the more their comfort level increases, no longer the skittish behaviour of dusk. It
just gently backs away and returns to the herd which had progressed as one to
around twenty yards away. Happy I am no threat they now graze where they are,
normality resumed.

A male tawny owl breaks the spell. His beautiful haunting call perfect for the
moonlit Winter night. Glancing at my watch it is nearing 3am, time to head for
home. I gently back away from the gate so as not to alarm the grazing sika. On
down the track to the crossroads and left for home, towards Dark Lane and
downhill leaving Black Hill behind me. I hear the tawny owl again, that distinctive
woodland call bidding me farewell as I reluctantly leave the nocturnal woodland
world behind me.
I continue down the hill, the sleeping village straight ahead. On the horizon the
distant glow of light pollution from Poole and Bournemouth. The first significant
artificial light I have seen since leaning on Devils Stone nearly four hours previously
wi th the glow of Bovi ngton Camp i n the di stance.
Reluctant to leave this nocturnal world I bear left and take a little deer path into
the plantation. The long grass is thick with frost and crunches underfoot as I make
my way between the head high young trees. I soon reach the bench and
brushing off the frost sit there in the silence. With Shitterton Wood behind me I think
this is probably the best place to look upon Bere Regis.
It is a place I frequently go to for sunrise, always breathtaking as the sun rises over
Woodbury. I will not see it this morning as by then like many of tonights nocturnal
companions I shall be asleep. From experience I know it will be spectacular this
morning. With the clear sky and heavy frost the village will be hidden by mist as
the sunrise begins with a red glow before turning various shades of pink and

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