Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Kingley Vale, West Sussex:

clear marks left by the sharp hooves of deer prints stand out from the pillow fox

down the road, a sweet musky scent from the moment when a fox crossing marked its territory. The clay is firmer here and saw less traffic. It seems a foxprints winding path (thinner than a dog), covered with slots deer. Marks left clear crisp edges hulls deer clearly highlights the impressions of soft cushion edges, suggesting that the tracks of deer recently asked. The caterpillars are back near fingerprints before a casual approach. I am the way and find a piece of broken bush broken deer head height -. Recent sea trials

It is a sound, a flash of movement. A deer out of the tree line. Standing in the shadow of the yew evergreen, perfectly camouflaged by its gray cloak. She hesitates, sniffs the air and stares at me with unblinking eyes. A fleeting spark of recognition passed between us. I hope it will turn around, but it leaps along the coast and across the road in front of me, showing her ass pale, with a horseshoe-shaped black as it blends into the shadows. Just when I'm about to take a step forward, the rest of the pack out of the wood, trot nose to tail in its wake.

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