Well! I was licking my lips at the thought of the hoards of migrants that would trip onto the Norfolk coast from the continent this Autumn. The situation can be summed up by telling you the total number of Fieldfare I’ve seen so far totals no more than a score … it appears lip-licking was unwarranted.
As a photographer you don’t want your subject to show any startled or unnatural behaviour. You want it to act as if you weren’t there. You want it to be relaxed. This Muntjac we saw the other day was taking that to another level.
He did wake up after a little while though…
There were two Muntjac in the garden the other morning giving it what for right in the middle of the lawn. This male looked particularly indignant at being disturbed … but he still had a smile on his face!
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When I started this entry it was about a Muntjac joining us for breakfast on Thursday. The morning however developed rapidly from there on.
It was supposed to be a laptop day; a day to get ‘things’ done. Little did I know. After the Muntjac shared his breakfast with us I settled down and logged in. Glancing out of the window to see if the small deer was still around the largest orange butterfly imaginable flew past the window. It was a Fritillary. But which one? I rushed outside … it was nowhere. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw a bird flit between the sycamores at the top of the garden. Er … just a minute. Not a bird … a bat. It flew my way almost hitting me in the face. I tried to photograph it. Despite it being large it was too quick. Strangely it had pale patches. It flew behind the Sycamores and never returned.
Sharon arrived and I was just telling her what I had seen when an Emperor dropped in and started egg laying. As I was photographing the little lady a Demoiselle flew past us. Oh my god it was a Beautiful not a Banded. Well out of range. We tried to find it but it had already moved off. The Emperor was joined by an ovipositing Broad bodied Chaser and an odd female Large Red Damselfly moved in. She too was laying eggs. I thought they were only supposed to lay when coupled with a male; and aren’t they supposed to have black legs … not blue. Strange. I guess there was just a movement of insects over the hill.
We did have another visitor too … but I’ll save that for another day.
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The late morning sun was streaming in through the branches that surrounded us within the open copse.
We were looking upwards, methodically searching the flock of Lesser Redpolls for something a little more special. Our necks were craning and binoculars were being lifted and then rested at regular intervals as we inspected each bird dangling from the alders. To my left I heard movement among the leaf litter.
I could see something quite large … well … larger than the redpolls we were watching moving around among the dense vegetation. I repositioned myself and refocused my bins. It was a Muntjac, or Reeve’s Muntjac to give it its proper name, quietly grazing on new buds. Our silence had enabled it unwittingly to venture close to us.
I slowly moved the camera from pointing at the canopy and attempted to get a clear line of sight to the deer. To avoid foliage, branches, twigs and an assortment of brambles I would have to seemingly bend light! With a degree of bobbing, ducking and at one point kneeling I got some sort of shot as the sunshine lit one side of the deer’s face.
Letter From Norfolk 