We had been watching badgers emerging from their sett and flocks of corvids swirling across the tree tops as they came into roost at dusk to an island of woods on the South Cambridgeshire plain.
Darkness finally falling we walked back along the footpath listening to a calling Barn Owl off to our left. Up ahead, the grunting bellow of a Fallow deer buck began to reach our ears through the low rumble of traffic sound drifting across from the A10. We continued to follow the path, the sound growing ever louder and our footsteps quieter as the approach continued.
We reached a bench and settled in, beginning the impossible task of setting up recording gear in silence. The slow click-click-click of a zip, the connection of a lead – all deafening to our sensitive ears. The buck had fallen quiet during these fumblings, but returned to it’s task just as everything was ready. I pressed record and let the deep, primeval bass of each bellow wash over me. After a while we crept away. The rut had begun.