Sanctuary (I): Tongue in cheek

Opening RAW files can be as intriguing as opening Pandora's box, from which all sorts of goodies might sprout: those that trigger a sense of the beautiful and mystical, or those that bring about a scent of the brown and sticky matter we all look down on once or twice a day. The camera's 3-inch LCD screen can be misleading but the 24-inch PC monitor never lies. Ever so occasionally, there will be a tiny detail revealed to make one exclaim “Stone me!" or “Cor blimey!" and beam from ear to ear. This type of photography is out of my league, so this photo comes to you by serendipity, for the lack of better word...

I tiptoed stealthily like a ninja, with some 100 yards of free space damping the sounds of rustling and fallen twigs breaking underfoot. When I reached a 10-ft tall fence, I realised I could go no further, so the maximum available 300mm focal length was my only saving grace. I aimed at the hind, focused and recomposed, then clicked. Hazarding an educated guess, I would say she was to be startled like a rabbit caught in headlights, but in hindsight (no pun intended) she must have seen and done it all before: she greeted me with an unceremonious display of impudence, which was the just desert for my conceit. Touché!

There is much to be learned from the behavioural traits of animals. Unlike humans, they will spend every minute of every hour of every day in their lives being themselves. A red deer won’t wake up in the morning feeling it was a cheeky red deer the night before and wishing it was a lamb instead. It will get on with the business of being a spontaneous red deer and will do it supremely well. It will roam the countryside, graze, lounge and now and again stick its tongue out at unwelcome intruders. I can’t see her putting it to any domestic use right now, not even to the benefit of the majestic stag only yards behind her. He seemed distant and uninterested as he crossed the lens' field of view. The rut season is a good six months away.
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