Monday 03 August
9.00am I think those mysterious carcasses found on the beach at Cley yesterday were young deer. Chinese Water Deer (Hydropotes inermis inermis) are reed bed dwellers that are on the at risk list globally, but have a fairly healthy population in East Anglia. I had never heard of them before, but they are one of the six species of deer that roam rural parts of the UK. The young deer are born in June and July which would correlate with these small bodies. They are sometimes called ‘Vampire Deer’ due to the pair of fang-like tusks that protrude down from their upper jaw. They don’t drink blood, by the way.
But still, the mystery persists of how they got there on the shingle beach?
11am We are starting the day with a trip down memory lane/track. A round trip on the narrow gauge railway from Wells to Wighton Gap. The journey would normally go to Walsingham but the Coronavirus has meant they want to reduce the number of visitors to the village which is a Roman Catholic pilgrimage location.
Midday. Then a circular walk to the Holkham estate. Packed lunches in back packs. The kids are struggling to be inspired today after our lengthy sojourn yesterday. But we are smiling and chatting and taking it in turns to hold Mabel’s lead.
We have done this lovely route so many times, sometimes on foot, sometimes by bike. Tracks through and alongside pine woodland, then alongside meadow and marshes, through deciduous woods and finally hedgerows bordering arable land.
On our walks, I am aware that I spend much of my time looking up or down, and increasingly less looking forward. Birds, butterflies, clouds and tree canopies compete for my attention with feathers, flowers, fungi and insects. My family are making me aware of this too, but I think it’s with some affection. They humour me by putting feathers I pick up into my backpack for me.
2pm I’m now lying on the grass at the Buttlands in Wells with a pint and my wonderful family. We have done another very satisfying walk.
We have spent many hours sitting and socialising on the Buttlands of Wells. It’s on the highest part of the town and is an oblong patch of grass, surrounded by trees, bordered by a road and beautiful houses on all four sides. Oh, and two pubs.
In the mid 13th century, it was set down in law, that all men between the ages of 15 and 60 should be ready and able to bear arms and fight if the country required it. The weapon must be a bow and arrows.
A hundred years later, King Edward III decreed that on Sundays and holidays all English men must practice archery at a designated space called the ‘Butts’. These spaces were set up in towns and villages up and down the kingdom. It was considered so important that noncompliance would be punishable by death. Equally, if someone was killed by a stray arrow no punishment would be lodged against the killer!
Now, we sit under the shade of a spralling beech tree, supping a pint or two and congratulating ourselves on our own, less violent, achievement. And a back catalogue of many, many happy memories.
The Bald Birder 