Folklore from The New Forest, ancient forest and hunting ground in Hampshire, England, tells us that spotting a stag around Samhain is a sign that the boundary to the fairy world is open.
Last night on our walk in Church Crookham, deep-mapping with the nocturnal ones that come out when we go in, the deer did not disappoint.
Photo by Laura with many thanks from The Soul Shed
As this deer joined us in the distance. Heather read us Mary Oliver’s poem:
This evening I Watched the Deer
with beautiful lips touching the tips
of the cranberries, setting their hooves down
in the dampness carelessly, isn’t it after all
the carpet of their house, their home, whose roof
is the sky?Why, then, was I suddenly miserable?
Well, this is nothing much.
This is the heaviness of the body watching the swallows
gliding just under that roof.
This is the wish that the deer would not lift their heads
and leap away, leaving me there alone.This is the wish to touch their faces, their brown wrists--
the folds of their ears,
Then walk with them,
over the hills
and over the hills
and into the impossible trees.-- Mary Oliver - ‘This morning I watched the deer’.
(As you will see from the title, we look a small liberty!)
We were joined last night by a guest walk-leader - and shared in the kindly and deeply knowledgeable presence of Howard Moss – wildlife photographer and chair of North east Hants badger group. He shared from his experience rescuing and caring for badgers locally. (You may have also walked with Howard earlier in the season on our walk as Bat Detectorists!)
Photo by Howard Moss. In old English Badger was known as Brock and treated with reverential respect.
Howard helped us to get our eye in, so that we began to notice the signs of wildlife and the animal pathways alongside and intersecting the human ones. We learnt much more about the habitat and habitus of the creatures living in the beautiful nature reserve at Zebon Copse: About owl, fox, rabbit and badger, as well as Deer.
My part was to bring in the deep-mapping with the season and the trees. We discovered Oak and Ash, Willow and Hazel, Hawthorne and Birch making up much of the treescape. The trees were edging the wetlands, and surrounding the slope that used to be known as horse hill and which has a Mature Ash, a badger set and a pill box fortification at its peak.
Along our way we crossed a narrow part of the river Hart, where basket willow was growing, and Sarah read us this poem by William Carlos Williams:
It is a willow when summer is over,
a willow by the river
from which no leaf has fallen nor
bitten by the sun
turned orange or crimson.The leaves cling and grow paler,
swing and grow paler
over the swirling waters of the river
as if loath to let go,
they are so cool, so drunk with
the swirl of the wind and of the river—
oblivious to winter,
the last to let go and fall
into the water and on the ground.
The boardwalks traversing the edges of these usually wetlands, were not really needed as it has been so concerningly dry this summer, but it was fun to walk them.
A lovely group of humans gathered to explore last night, and the mood of the season was upon us. I had put pumpkin orange lipstick on, but others had gone much further, wearing fabulous autumnal knitwear and hallowe’en headgear! But the one that had gone farthest to be on message, was without question the sky. Casting an incredible fire of a sunset, onto the surface of the canal as we crossed the bridge into the wood
If you’re on our mailing list (you can join it at the bottom of this page) I will keep you posted about more of our Wander and Wonder walks in future, which will pick up again in the Spring. Over the winter months I will be sharing writing with you on Substack, and bringing you more offerings for exploring your connection to your square mile of belonging.
I will leave you with the poem Craig read for us as we first encountered a mature Ash Tree and considered the meaning of Autumn as an experience to enter. I believe we were all just a little bit altered by our time together experiencing something of the wonder of the natural world in Zebon Copse:
Oh tall tree of our knowing, shedding its leaves:
It’s a matter now of facing the preponderance
of sky appearing through its branches.
Filled by summer, it seemed deep and thick,
filling our minds, too, so comfortably.
Now its whole interior is an avenue of stars.
And the stars do not know us.From Rilke’s Book of Days, Translated by Joanna Macy
We look forward to deep-mapping with you again soon.