Brampton, Norfolk

  • Brampton: Autumn update

    So far a dry and mild Autumn in the village has meant that most of the trees have retained their leaves. The Field Maple leaves started to turn yellow in mid October but most have yet to fall. The Poplars, which never do things by halves, have dropped all but a few isolated leaves and as a result Keeper’s Wood has taken on it’s Winter profile.

    I hear the weak call of the Redwing, but as yet have not actually spotted any of the Winter visiting thrushes. A Common Sandpiper has joined the resident Egret at the Mill Pool. The Kingfisher can still be heard but the many young raised during this bountiful year have mostly dispersed. The occasional Cormornt passes through and I hope that it has a taste for Signal Crayfish rather than for our already depleted Bure fish stocks.

    The Roe Deer have gathered into small family groups. Their coats taking on their tawny Autumn colour, rather than that glowing orange-red of Summer, as they prepare for the colder season. The Muntjac galumph about in pairs – seemingly without fear they focus on the gardens and the allotment.

  • Brampton Spring: Roe buck and doe

    The sight of Roe Deer has become increasingly common in Brampton in recent years (see link to other posts within the Village blog), but they always feel like an encounter with a wilder, slightly separate world. Usually, the sighting it at some distance and commonly it is for a fleeting moment before the deer melt into the safety of woodland. However, the other evening the encounter was closer. It was all the more surprising because, as we walked along with the Whippets, conversation was in full flow – not the whispers and hand signals that so often have to accompany a deer stalk. The wind was in our favour, blowing from the deer to us – otherwise they would have sensed us, a hundred yards further back. But on this occasion it was an eye to eye meeting, as can be appreciated by the resultant photo.

  • Autumn encounter

    During the Autumn twilight a pair of Roe deer made their silent way out from the woodland edge. The breeze blew gently in our faces so they continued unaware that they were being watched. Unaware that is until one of our restless dogs gave the game away. The doe looked up and eyed us cautiously. There was no flight for safety. Instead they ambled quietly along the old hedge line and carried on with their foraging.

    Roe in the gloaming
    Roe in the gloaming

  • Deer in October

    As I drive out of the village each morning, three deer watch. They stand knee-high amongst the sugar beet. Their coats have turned into an Autumn hue of dark russet brown, the red fox gloss of Summer having long gone. The Buck only relaxes as I am just about to drive under the bridge. They return to their task – grazing to build up their fat reserves.

  • Brampton Spring: Owls on Maundy Thursday

    On the evening of Maundy Thursday Oxnead was quiet. It was bright and slightly chilly Spring evening. A single Roedeer nibbled at growing reed tips on the Drying Ground. This area is part of the Common which was, at one time strung with lines for drying washing and now colonised by reeds, Flag Irises and willow. A little corner that had been ignored by the drainage contractors.

    A few steps further and we watched a very white Barn Owl slowly survey the ditches as she quartered the ground. The river was reflective and slow flowing. Disturbed only by a territorial Mute Swan – perhaps defending a hidden nest nearby. A second hunting Barn Owl, this time a dusky fawn colouration, watched us as we passed from a fence-post perch.

    There is a small footbridge over the little River Mermaid where is joins the Bure. It is a good place to stop and to appreciate the silence of the Bure and the grazing marshes. As we watched some duck winnowed in and a solitary Snipe called as it purposefully made its way somewhere or other. Then the pace changed. As if rowing through the air, a Short Eared Owl appeared. A faster and more effortless flight than that of Barn Owl. Its long wings alternately fixed in a short glide, then swimming through the air, as is flew in wide arcs over the marsh. Flying at around six feet off the ground and occasionally braking, twisting and pouncing in a shallow cork screw when something caught its eye. As it passed us we caught a glimpse of those intent yellowy-orange eyes set in a flat facial disc. It was aware of our presence but carried on hunting. Presumably refuelling en route to the moor or tundra breeding ground.

    We returned home exhilarated by the sighting.

  • Sounds and scents in November

    I like the smells and texture of November. Helen shared her view of the underrated month as walked under a clear starlit night. At last the temperature had dropped after a fortnight or so of rain and fog. Underfoot the going was soft, the mud a slippery plastic. There was no wind and the Field Maples has dropped their first batch of rich yellow leaves. The Red Oaks along the old railway line had succumbed at once and a rich bronze leaf carpet lay along the floor if the cutting. Every footprint yielded the sharp scent of denying leaves. It is the sort of scent that evokes memories of long past autumns; the pure pleasure of kicking through wind-raked piles of fallen leaves.

    Further along the sharp stink of a Fox hung in the air, so acrid and fresh that we must have disturbed him on his rounds. The dogs pressed forward along the trail of some invisible creature. All three converge on a gateway in Back Lane in an ecstasy of a find. They strain at the leash as something noisily jumps from the lee of the hedge and flees to the centre of the field. The Fox, we think, until we look across from descending road through the next hedge gap. The unmistakeable shape of a Roebuck is just silhouetted against the sky line – he watches us from a safe distance and visibly relaxes as we walk down the lane and away.

    Overhead, to the east, the star Aldebaran glows orange on the tip of one of the horns of Taurus.

  • The arrival of new neighbours

    The frenzy of lead-tugging, sniffing and running back and forth from the dogs as where approached the house reminded me about our new neighbours. Not house neighbours but newish residents of the copse. Just before harvest one of the local Roe deer moved in. I almost tripped over her whilst trying to approach a hawk which happened to be perched nearby. She sprang up from her comfortable lie as soon as I got within ten feet of her. The form of her body left a warm depression in the long grass of the woodland margin. She merely watched me from a reasonable distance, confident that a thirty yard head start was more than enough.

    Since then she was joined by a Roebuck, who eyed us from the field with a confident disdain as we walked past along the road.

    This evening’s Whippet frenzy merely confirmed the deer’s continued residence. More active at dusk they wander in search of succulent grass as the vegetation becomes more Autumnal and declines in quality.

  • Roe in gold

    It is one if those fine Summer mornings. The barley looks fit and will be ready for harvest soon, the wheat is still green but is on the turn. The ghostly crop marks of the Roman Town are showing themselves in the wheat for that short period before they disappear in a smear of gold as the crop matures. A Barn Owl weaves it’s way amongst the dappled shadows of the trees along the old railway line. As the dogs and I walk up to our turning point we become the focus of attention of a sole Roe Doe. Her ears in sharp v-shaped relief against the white gold of the barley in which she stands. It is not until we haves turned and are at least fifty yards distance, and moving away, that I see her relax and continue browsing in the golden morning.

  • View

    Scrub clearance work by the Bure Valley Railway along the village embankment has created the best scenic view in the parish.on a fine, early July morning the bosky pastoral view of the valley is second to none. In the distance, mists rises from the River Bure. Deer skulk along the woodland edges. It is with. Heavy heart that I have to turn around and go to work.

  • November frost

    The ground frost lingers after dawn. On mornings such as these, deer venture out of their woodland cover in search of fresh-thawed grass. I am being watched by a Roe doe as the dogs and I follow the railway line. She stands still in the lee of the old hedge; only as light movement of her head and the twitch of her ears as she monitors us. No need for flight, she is confident in her distance from us and the proximity of the haven of Keeper’s Wood. She is still there after we turn around and head for home.

    Further on a Muntjac Deer adopts a different tactic as it crosses our path, its ungainly pig-like run following a straight-ish path to the wood. The Barn Owl does not waste energy in a hunting flight this morning, but perches hunched on a fence post, but patiently watching.

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