Between the catkins and silver birch trees I see it. An eye, a face and then it melts away I continue to wait on the gate as intently as the buzzard above me. Probably a dog I think, but then I see it again, its warm brown coat clearly visible in the morning sun. An eye, a face then the body and I realise my dog has transformed into a deer. Anyone who regularly travels through Farley Dingle will have seen deer: a warning road sign, a brief glimpse through the trees, or a heart stopping flash as they cross the path of the car. But this is different: eye to eye and personal. We all have that subconscious Bambi-born love of deer, but I’m not thinking ‘cute’, I’m looking at something big and wild, and wonderful because of it. I move closer for a better look but no sooner have I taken a few steps than the deer vanishes into the undergrowth, the shaking catkins and bent grass the only sign that it was there.
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