It’s been years since I set my alarm for 4.30 am – I’ll do anything to avoid easyJet or any other such ungodly calls upon my time – but on Monday I was going off into the forest to see the deer, and being up before the sun was part of the deal. So I set off in what I can only call the very, very dark and joined my guide for the day, Colin Elford, and his two dogs.
I first met Colin, a forest ranger, when he’d come on one of his very rare trips to London. We’re publishing his diary of a year in the woods – aptly named A YEAR IN THE WOODS: DIARY OF A FOREST RANGER – so we had thought he might like to come and meet us in our natural habitat – which clearly wasn’t his. He wore his special-occasion suit and looked distinctly as if he wasn’t from these parts. And now here he was, looking much more himself, with his rifle slung over the shoulder (in case he came across an injured deer) and his dogs around his ankles. Meanwhile I clearly looked as out of place as he’d done in his suit, because there was a swift assessment of the situation and suddenly there I was – and here I am in the accompanying picture – dressed in one of Colin’s camouflage coats and a balaclava knitted by his mother.
And so we were kitted out and ready. Leaving the vehicle and dogs behind we headed into the very depths of the forest, up a ladder and into a high seat. We watched and we listened, and occasionally we’d see something and occasionally we’d hear something – and the whole thing was quite wonderful, with various creatures swooping, scurrying or trotting past. There were tawny owls, a woodcock, crossbills, pheasants, a wren, and of course the deer. And added to all this was the half-pig, half-lion soundtrack of a rutting fallow buck (for those who aren’t familiar with the word ‘rutting’, it means, according to my dictionary ‘in a state of readiness to copulate’). We didn’t see the rutter in question from the high seat, but we did see what looked like one of the objects of his affections. She looked a little traumatised by the experience – as Colin put it, the males don’t bother with wining and dining – and she was almost licking her wounds as she came past.
The sun was almost up by now (but I was living the real thing, remember, and not this speeded-up version of events, so two whole hours had passed), and it was time to descend from the high seat and adjust to life on the ground. We threaded through trees, heard more deer noises, examined deer prints in the mud, smelt where they’d left their mark, and spotted more deer ears above the undergrowth. By this time I was feeling quite at home, with the usual accessories of my life left far behind – so much so, in fact, that when Colin said my name it sounded strange to me – and it wasn’t until the mention of food that I was very much back in my body and to earth as I usually know it.
So off with the camouflage coat and balaclava, and back for a hearty breakfast. And now I’m back at my desk with nothing but some strange photographs to prove I was really there.
Juliette Mitchell,
Editor, Hamish Hamilton
…………………………………………………………………..
Remember that by posting a comment you are agreeing to the website Terms of Use. If you consider any content on this site to be inappropriate, please report it to Penguin Books by emailing reportabuse@penguin.co.uk
……………………………………………………………………