Stalking skills capture a roe deer picture, but she still outwits me

ON the way back from a day out on the moors with friends last month I spotted a roe doe and two fawns. They were browsing in a six metre cover strip which edged a beech woodland only a few miles from my home and gallery at Thixendale.

So I dropped everyone off at home and climbed into my top-to-toe camouflage suit. Our friends, who live in London, looked on with amusement as I grabbed my camouflage folding chair, extra pieces of camouflage netting to break up my outline, the largest camera lens and tripod I could carry and my binoculars.

I was on a mission to get some great shots of my favourite British deer. And, with a somewhat sceptical audience waiting for me to return, I needed to justify my absence.

When I reached the field where I had spotted the deer, they had gone. I panned right with my binoculars. Nothing. I panned left and soon picked up the three deer that had travelled 100 metres or so from where I had seen them.

The wind was ripping through the beech trees behind them. It was blowing towards me so I knew my scent would be lost.

I planned my stalking route. The wood would allow me to approach unspotted. But, once you're in a wood you can quickly lose a sense of how far you've travelled.

I didn't want to come out into the open and give myself away in the wrong place. So I pinpointed a pine tree as a marker from the car. This tree would be a safe distance from the deer, allowing for the way that the wind was blowing as well as the speed and direction that the deer were travelling.

I repositioned my car at the edge of the wood. The wind was so loud I was sure that the deer would not be able to hear me as I ran, clumsily carrying all my equipment, for 300 metres through the wood.

Roe deer are very sensitive to sounds and normally one wrong step or snap of a twig can give the game away. As I approached my marker, the pine tree, I could see where they had slept in the golden leaf litter on a previous occasion. Roe deer scrape a hollow in the leaves with their hooves before settling down to rest.

I left my equipment by the pine tree and crawled out into the cover strip on all fours to check where they were. As I popped my head out into the freshly cultivated field, I immediately spotted one of the roe deer about 70 metres away and heading my way – it couldn't have been more perfect.

I went back to the pine tree to fetch my gear – which weighed over 15kg. A professional deer stalker once taught me how to creep up on deer on foot and I now consider myself quite adept at it – but setting up a tripod and camera without being noticed adds another dimension to the task.

The lens itself has a seven inch diameter which looks from a distance like a large black hole that is likely to scare off deer. So I stuffed some camouflage netting into the hood of the lens.

It worked. All three deer were happily browsing away and didn't notice me. Unfortunately, they were too obscured by the long grasses for a photograph.

I settled down to wait. But my hopes were dashed when they then laid down for a rest. All I could see was the back of the doe's ear flicking every so often and I could see nothing of the two fawns. I waited a while longer, but became impatient as the light faded.

I crawled 20 metres or so closer and set up again. But the deer remained lying down. Impatiently, I edged out into the field. But I was spotted by the adult roe doe. As she sprang up, my camera struggled to focus through the long grass. She walked out into the open to investigate me, stomping her feet as she went.

My camera locked onto her and I rattled off some photographs. Then she bounded off, glancing back just once more before disappearing into the wood. I decided she must have taken the fawns with her, but I stayed just in case.

I don't like to be spotted, even when a sighting is over, as it can spoil my chances of getting a photograph on another day. So I sat frozen to the spot looking in the direction she had gone for what seemed like ages.

Eventually I made my move. But as I took off my camouflage hood I realised I had misjudged the doe. She had looped round the wood, just as I had done earlier, to see what I was up to and had reappeared six metres from me, peering out from the edge of the wood. She turned and fled then, barking her alarm call, fluffing up her white rump and bounding away through the branches.

I was a bit disappointed that I had been outwitted, but I did have some great shots as consolation.

I had been well and truly spotted, so I walked across to see where she had been lying. The flattened impression in the grass showed where she had been just moments before.

As I walked through the cover strip, I looked to my right and saw the two fawns laying a few metres away in a patch of sunlight.

No sooner had I set my eyes on them they too were bounding away into the distance. I still can't quite believe that they had held tight all this time. I could have kicked myself for not staying still for a bit longer.

When I arrived back home, I was going to pretend that I had failed in my mission, but I couldn't conceal my smile as I lit up the back of my camera and showed off my shots to everyone.

www.robertfuller.com

CW 16/10/10