The New Forest
On the 6th of September my partner and I travelled to the New Forest, as a final trip together before I went back to university and she went to work in France. The farewell was bittersweet in the knowledge that, unlike our separation as a result of the lockdown, at least this time we are both off exploring our interests. Despite the apprehension with the next chapter in our lives looming over us, the trip was everything I wanted; trees, birds, and a bit of peace and quiet.
The Local Birdlife
The journey to the New Forest from Kent takes about 2 hours and 40 minutes. The majority of the drive spans along roads lined with greenery and made all the more exciting by dodging ponies in our tracks. We stayed in a converted Romani carriage, beautifully situated on a working estate a couple of miles from Brockenhurst. The decor was cosy and the lack of Wifi created an escape from the world, as if we travelled back in time by a couple of centuries (discounting the microwave, kettle and clean water.) The best part though, was the way in which we were inserted into nature. When we arrived and put our bags down, I watched a spotted flycatcher hunting insects right in front of the cabin — it couldn't have been more then 10 metres in front of me. Given that before mid-July I had not seen a flycatcher, ever, in the past month and a bit I have seen at least ten with no exaggeration. Similarly, before August I hadn't seen a Raven since this time last year, yet in August alone I saw at least five. On the first morning in the cabin, I woke to the cronking of a raven, which I watched fly to the top of a radio tower, its bill still distinguishable from the great height. However, it was not just the bird life that amazed me.
Dining with Deer
The first night was balmy and the air was dry, with the scent of grass and countryside creating that perfect harvest time ambience. At golden hour the field was perfectly lit and the still weather meant that we were surrounded by birdsong. On such a beautiful evening it'd be a shame if we didn't eat dinner outside, and when we did, we were joined by a couple of guests. Firstly, in the field adjacent to us there was a large flock of mistle thrushes hopping around, prompting me to wonder if there was a storm approaching; there was also a squirrel performing acrobatics in the hawthorn bush opposite, like a jester at a feast. But by far the greatest attendee was a fallow deer, which stood watching, unmoving as it spotted us from the corner of the field. In my corner of Kent there aren't many deer, as far as I'm aware there is the occasional muntjac every so often, but none of the larger British species. I watched in awe as the deer watched us in trepidation. Her soft features and wide, 'kind' eyes made her one of the prettiest animals I've ever seen. Of course I am entirely romanticising the experience, the deer was merely watching us with wide eyes that anticipated any fast movement from potential predators; but to me the moment was magical, and more so when she was joined by the rest of the herd. About 7-10 deer would gather at the same time every evening in the adjacent field, at around 19:30-20:00, and would graze until the sun had gone down. We'd be slow and predictable when moving in and around our accommodation in the evening, as not to disturb the grazing animals. That didn't stop them disturbing us however. Our cabin only contained a double bed, kitchenette and a tiny table, so the bathroom was located about 150 metres on the other side of the field. We had to keep to the paths when moving across the estate, which were unlit, so we relied on the small iPhone torches at night. There was something about walking across the field in the dark that ignited a subconscious primal fear within me. I always felt watched, as if my prehistoric mind was anticipating a bear or wolf attack. On one evening I was walking through the dark field which had been enveloped with a mist, mentally reassuring myself that I was safe from wolves and bears, when I suddenly heard something running towards me. My heart leaped into my mouth and I froze, as a deer bounded across the path in front of me. It was a beautiful moment despite the fright, and it was also interesting to experience those buried instincts.
Excuse the quality, my lens is mainly for macro!
Blackwater Arboretum, Bolderwood Deer Sanctuary and Possible Goshawks
On the two full days we were in The New Forest, we visited two sites: Blackwater Arboretum and Bolderwood Deer Sanctuary. We went to the latter on the second day, and surprisingly it was silent. I think I heard a couple of robins and that was about it. The scenery was beautiful though and I really enjoyed the two mile round walk, which was clearly signposted (thankfully, as my navigation skills are truly shocking.) The only downside for me was that the paths were very well maintained — personally, it felt like I was looking into the forest from the outside as opposed to feeling within it, if that makes sense? This is purely a personal preference, and the site was so beautiful and perfect for walking and cycling. I enjoyed Blackwater slightly more, as it felt more 'natural'. The carpark was in the clearing of the forest and had wooden tables spaced around for picnickers. I knew it would be a good day when we pulled up, when we parked next to a man scanning the area through binoculars. I joined him and had a look around, as the cheeping of tits and goldcrests came from all angles. However, it was what I didn't see through my binoculars which was special. I couldn't pinpoint a certain bird so I set my binoculars down to get my walking shoes on. I looked up and saw on a post, right next to the birdwatcher still scanning the woodland, a nuthatch. I couldn't help but giggle, the bird was almost mocking the poor man by hiding in plain sight. I have seen nutchatches in Kent, but only in certain locations like Blean Woods, so seeing them is always quite special.
The paths through Blackwater were clear but also slotted into the scenery, for example you can stroke the bushes as you walk through as opposed to having to go slightly off the path to view the foliage. It was a warm September day and I was so excited for the walk; my birding senses were tingling in anticipation of what we could see. I am a proud optimist, and so my mission was to find a goshawk, which is currently No.1 on my to-see list (besides the dipper at No.2 and the lesser-spotted woodpecker and white-tailed eagle taking joint third place.) I familiarised myself with the call of the goshawk, and where I could find them. Did we unequivocally see a goshawk? No. Did I get any undeniably proof of them being in the area? Also no. However, I do optimistically-but-not-officially believe that I might have heard one. We moved ever so slightly off the path to sit on a tree stump for lunch after an hour of walking, which was lovely. We were surrounded by nature from every angle and I unleashed my inner Packham by investigating some deer markings and droppings a few metres away. Behind us we could see twitching ears appearing above the plants and knew we were a few feet away from a herd of deer, as we shielded from view by an organic hide of ferns. But then I heard a high, fast cackling call coming from not far off. It was definitely a bird of prey and vastly different from the droning mew of a buzzard, or the whistling of a red kite. Without any sighting of the bird, I wouldn't bet my cat's life on it being a goshawk, but I'm also not saying that it wasn't a goshawk. Towards the end of the trail, we walked along a path lined with dense foliage, and surrounded by tall coniferous trees. My girlfriend gasped and I quickly looked up, to have a second's view of bird of prey coasting above. The sun was behind the bird and the glimpse was so fleeting that I couldn't give any identification; had I seen some stripes it may have been different. However, it was difficult to deduce if the bird was flying through the treetops, or above them — had it been the latter, it was most likely a buzzard. So I'll leave that with you, I'm classifying both experiences as goshawk-like behaviour occurring in goshawk-prone territory, but not certifiably-goshawk.
On the final evening I went out alone and across the busy road outside of the estate, to roam the purple heathland. I was aware that nightjars frequented the New Forest heaths, but I didn't delude myself into believing I could see one as it was too early in the evening and maybe a bit late in the season anyway. That said, it was golden hour on a warm evening, and I basked in one of the most glorious sunsets I've witnessed. The sun's radiance made the heather glow with tones of golden and rich lilac, as if I was viewing the landscape through a photographic filter. There was no set path, so I just wandered between the gorse bushes slowly, as not to frighten any birds round the corner. By far the most abundant bird was the stonechat, as I saw about three or four males proudly perching on bare shrubs poking up above the gorse. I was also spooked on turning a corner to find a horse grazing on the path. Luckily I had my camera and snapped what I think is a quintessential New Forest photo:
The journey home was smooth and I felt refreshed. I miss waking up to the quiet air, and watching deer and nuthatches with breakfast, so I will definitely like to visit the New Forest again. This update is overdue as a week ago I moved back to university, but I have formed a good routine and I am aiming to post a few times a month now, so please check back soon!
P.S. If you haven't already, please check out my Etsy shop at: https://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/LarkingUp?ref=search_shop_redirect
You can alternatively find my shop by searching the name LarkingUp in the Etsy App
I am selling A5 prints of my original watercolours, with more paintings to go up over the next couple of months. They would make excellent gifts as we head towards Christmas time, and purchases help support me as a young artist at uni. Thank you!