Deer, close up and personal

I'm not a great one for wildlife. Yes, creatures of all sorts can be fascinating and wonderful to see, and some are beautiful, but they are not my life's obsession. I simply respect them, and would do nothing to directly harm them. Even so, this detachment rather falls by the wayside when a chance arises to meet an animal close up. Then you apprehend something more. 

But I rarely place myself in a position to experience such an encounter, even for a series of photos. Truth to tell, I'm wary of animals and their potential to injure me. Even the cutest-looking can bite. Mind you, I don't blame any animal for being alarmed or fearful if a human comes near. We are a threat. From their point of view, we are intruders, disturbers, controllers and oppressors, likely to inflict pain, loss and death. No wonder they might gear up to defend themselves if flight is impossible. 

Even the most familiar of them - farm animals like sheep, pigs and cows - are very un-human and alien. They have heads, bodies and legs, but not like ours. They peer at us with eyes that are not the same. And who knows what they are thinking, if they think. They are other life-forms. I don't consider them lesser life-forms, just different: easily tricked and herded and slaughtered, but possibly dangerous if maddened by pain or terror. No grown beast with teeth, horns or hooves, or great weight, is a creature one should take for granted. They might eagerly accept the food we offer, but it is the acceptance of the prisoner who is penned in and and has no other option.

And yet there is magic in a personal encounter. I had such a moment in April, when in Cornwall. It was at Prideaux Place, the manor house on the hill above Padstow. 

I'd explored the town yet again after a good lunch. I do this most years. This time I walked further than usual, and approached Prideaux Place, which had a deer park opposite. 

I began chatting with a local woman who was there to see the deer being fed by the present landowner. It generally happened around two o'clock in the afternoon. That time was very soon, so I decided to hang around with her, to see what happened. 

There were a lot of deer out in the park, and (as if they had glanced at their watches) several of the young males began to move towards the section of fence from which they were fed.  

On the dot, the landowner emerged from a gateway on a small tractor, hauling a trailer, and drew that to the fence. On the trailer were root vegetables, some sliced up in readiness. 

Quite a feast (if you were a deer)! A nice change from grass.

Curiously, it was still only the males that had come to get their treat. The rest of the herd were hanging back: presumably there was a strict order of precedence.

The lady I had been talking with knew the landowner and stayed close by as he began to feed the deer. I soon joined them.

The deer were clearly comfortable in the landowner's company. But (he explained) they were not pets. They were still wild animals, and it had taken a long while to build their trust up. He began to give them slices of whatever it was - turnip? - and demonstrated how to offer the morsel. 

The woman had a go. Then I did, rather gingerly, but the deer took the slice from my fingers with the utmost gentleness. That's my hand in the picture. Interestingly, I saw that the deer had eyes like a goat's. I wondered why.

Now the landowner put a slice between his own teeth and got one of the deer to take from him. It was a rather intimate scene, curiously touching. The deer didn't seem to mind getting so close, and wanted more.

I felt lucky to have been there at the right time. It was so intriguing. And I wondered whether deer are colour-blind, because while they trusted the landowner in his green country attire, I was a vision of scarlet, quite different, and possibly signalling danger. Maybe deer like red even more than green?

Feeding the deer had been one of the highlights of my day though!