Shooting Times & Country Magazine

Mystery of the elusive fallow

The Editor sees first-hand the recent baffling lack of deer numbers, writes Jamie Tusting

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As the greenery of the summer starts to fade away, the stubbles turn into bare soil and the evenings begin to draw in, so the search for fallow deer ramps up.

The bucks in season to start with, but soon joined by the does too. This is the time of year when motivation is high, enthusiasm for a season not yet waned, and stalkers are ready to pit themselves against the mystery that are fallow.

In some areas of the estate, especially in the more densely wooded parts, the population of fallow deer is a constant problem. Numbers here seem to have risen in correlatio­n with increased woodland planting.

During the early part of the season, almost every outing resulted in finding deer, which helped to get a head start on cull targets — and, of course, add some coins into the deer kitty. But as September rolled relentless­ly into October, a trend started to appear. The fallow bucks seemed to be increasing­ly fewer and further between, with the previously foolproof stalking spots beginning to bear less fruit.

Unusual trend

It could be suggested that increased culling was a causal factor, but this wasn’t just fallow bucks we weren’t seeing, but does and muntjac too. It also wasn’t a trend that we’d ever seen in previous years on the estate. Indeed, the trend seemed to be the other way, in line with national numbers, where, among other factors, increased woodland cover has provided more habitat. Estate woodland cover has increased by about 50 hectares in the past couple of decades, as national coverage has increased by almost 120,000 ha since 1990. In the past two years, Covid lockdowns curtailed deerstalki­ng on the estate significan­tly, as it did nationwide, and numbers certainly swelled. The trends, therefore,

from too far away, for fear of it being a wasted trip. Two weeks ago, a mate came down from the Scottish Borders for an outing and we were lucky to bump into a buck as it trotted across a field between two woodland parcels. Aside from that, we had seen one muntjac all evening and that was at some distance.

“We were lucky to bump into a buck as it trotted across a field between woodland”

Last week, a friend set off early from Shropshire to meet me for a morning stalk, and we were very fortunate that he overshot the meeting place in the car and saw in the headlights a magnificen­t buck crossing the road in front of him. It didn’t look like it was going to go very far because, despite it being in decent condition, it only had three legs. It was within the first few minutes we were able to make contact as it browsed a hedgerow not far from where we’d parked. But thereafter that morning, regardless of the hours we were out, we didn’t see a thing.

I was a little apprehensi­ve, then, to suggest to the Editor Patrick Galbraith that a two-hour drive out of London would be a worthwhile mission.

The potential of finding fallow was a tempting draw, though, and a date was set. In truth, I was nervous it might not live up to expectatio­ns.

Patrick met me at my house and we set off for the woods, stopping in gateways on our route to scan the fields and woodland edges with the binoculars for any signs of fallow. A call to one of the other stalkers in the area didn’t do much to help build enthusiasm — he hadn’t seen deer for a few days now.

Muntjac haven

With no sightings to be had, we parked up and set off quietly on foot into a block of woodland that has so often been a near-guaranteed muntjac haven. We moved as quietly as we could in single file, and I stopped every 15 yards or so to use the binoculars to cut through the noise of the undergrowt­h and spy deep into the woodland. I always find it amazing how, in general, the binoculars help a stalker to pick out features in a wood that are hard to identify, even when they are close enough to see with the naked eye.

“Have you ever used a thermal spotter,” Patrick enquired, to which I replied in the negative — “I like the rather old-school romance of

“We decided it would be best to wait for dusk and see if any deer ventured out”

binoculars” — but admit that we could well have passed over muntjac, and indeed fallow, that would have been picked up with a thermal. Perhaps, though, old-school romance wasn’t going to help us hit our 300deer cull target.

After a quiet walk through the woods, covering a couple of kilometres in the process, we decided it would be best to wait for dusk to settle in and see if any deer ventured out on to the fields for an evening feed. When we got to the woodland edge, however, it became quite evident that the wind was much stronger than it was in the woods, and with it gusting at almost 40mph, we were unlikely to see anything. While there is documented evidence to suggest deer move more on windy days, they tend to move about less on windy nights. And this was certainly a windy night.

We decided we’d be best to move spots. While the hills of Northampto­nshire aren’t much, even the gently undulating terrain can have a big impact on the wind strength and exposure, and I knew a spot sitting slightly further down into the Welland Valley that might be a little more sheltered, and hopefully in turn might tempt a deer to move.

Commanding setting

The embankment of an old railway line meanders across this part of the estate, hawthorns covering it in a Romanesque testudo formation. A crumbling drystone wall forms the boundary between it and an arable field, on the far side of which is an ancient block of woodland, whose tall oaks and ash trees give it a commanding setting over the valley.

Tucked into a chink in the hawthorn armour is a little command post, two seats in a tower, covered with a tarpaulin roof and lapboard sides. Patrick and I tucked ourselves inside, loaded the rifle and waited. It was indeed more sheltered than our previous spot, and it felt very much as

though deer could appear from the woods at any time. The binoculars helped us to cut through the gloom well past the point that the naked eye was any good, and after a short while, two dark shapes appeared in the field.

They were far off to start with, but as they came closer they revealed themselves to be a fallow doe and fawn. Our heart rates settled slowly, knowing this time we weren’t going to have a shot.

We headed home, briefly getting our hopes up as we incorrectl­y identified an old tree stump on the edge of the field as a muntjac, and the evening ended without further incident. My nervousnes­s of Patrick having a wasted journey proved true.

The mystery, therefore, around the lack of deer being seen is one that continues. I will, of course, persevere because it’s always fun to go stalking even if the end result is fruitless, although I’m not sure it is quite worth such a long drive. Perhaps, though, the time has come for me to put to one side my romantic ideals of deerstalki­ng and embrace the efficiency that modern technology can offer. Needless to say, something has got to change if we are going to have any chance of hitting the target required. Maybe I’ll add a thermal spotter to my Christmas wish list.

 ?? ??
 ?? ?? Two dark shapes appear in the field and are identified as a fallow doe and a fawn
Two dark shapes appear in the field and are identified as a fallow doe and a fawn
 ?? ?? As dusk falls, Jamie and Patrick tuck inside the sheltered command post
As dusk falls, Jamie and Patrick tuck inside the sheltered command post
 ?? ??
 ?? ?? An old railway line and embankment that meanders through the estate offers good sightlines
An old railway line and embankment that meanders through the estate offers good sightlines
 ?? ?? Checking the rifle, but this would be one of those stalking trips without a shot fired
Checking the rifle, but this would be one of those stalking trips without a shot fired

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