Wednesday, 1 April 2015
There were two young deer frolicking on the land behind our house in the autumn. They would race through the trees, leap along the fields, white tails bobbing, full of joy and great companions. I saw them again in February, darting from field to forest, and at the beginning of March, just behind our garden, close up and grown up but still brimming with enthusiasm and energy.
My neighbour told me she'd found one of them in her field last week, shot and its legs hacked off. She had to deal with the carcass. She thinks the poacher must have had a silencer on his rifle as she heard nothing. I can only imagine the grief of its good companion, if indeed it escaped.