Just been for a solitary autumnal run through a dusky deer park. Sounds
idyllic? Not so. I'd forgotten that it's rutting season for the deer,
and so was rudely brought out of my Keatsian reverie by the terrifying
bellowing of lairy stags who obviously didn't take kindly to a fat
beardy creature lumbering out of the mist.
Met the first one about half way round, and quickly changed course.
Several others curtailed the evening's run, as I took the quickest route
back to the gates, my car and safety, all the time imagining every
sound behind me was a charging stag. Problem was, while it was a
pleasant downhill run into the park, it was uphill on the way out, and I
had no energy left for trying to outrun several hundred pounds of
venison with antlers and an attitude.
Think I might have to rethink that route...
