I call these four John, Paul, George and Ringo. To be honest, I can’t tell anything about the gender of these deer. What’s more, they didn’t stick around long enough for me to ask their pronouns. For all I know, they could be Benny, Frida, Agnetha and Björn.
Whenever I see deer hanging out in a field, I play a game called: how close can I get before they notice me? The answer is: not very. In the case of these four, I knew they were on the far side of a rise, so I crept up a gentle slope to a position I thought would serve as a blind. The problem came when I tried to set my camera on the tripod. It snaps into place with a quiet click. Not quiet enough. John, Paul, and George heard me right away. Ringo let on he didn’t hear but, hey, that’s part of his charm.
On another occasion, I got caught in a sudden downpour so took shelter under the eaves of the drive shed. I peered around the corner and there stood a solitary deer. The sound of rain bouncing off the metal roof may have hidden my approach. I was already close to the deer as I raised my camera and steadied the long lens against the corner of the building. I got a few shots as it stared at me, then it turned and ambled off.
