Raven Red deer and raven, aura of the fells in October. Stags roar, bellow and grunt- notes of low horn and tuba. Accompanists in the seasonal ritual of the rut. Posturing, if we could see the action unfolding somewhere in the enveloping mist A symphony of stags scattered over the amphitheatre of the fells. Each responsive to the other’s voice, loud, resonant, yet secret. Raven is the saxophonist in a riff of stag and scavenger, then an interlude of silence until a stag bellows and they're off again.
Over the Kirkstone Pass, bands of sunlight illuminate the tops wreathed in cloud. But the sun is swiftly swallowed up in pervasive mist and mizzle. From the boggy watershed between The Knott and Rest Dodd we spy red deer on the skyline and watch them disappear beyond. Suffused in mist, Rest Dodd is no more than a faint outline and in the solitude the ancient ritual of the deer rut seems timeless. Native red deer, deep in our culture, in poetry and in song, depicted in tapestry and in paintings.
In light rain, the air is laden with moisture. From Satura Crag at the head of Bannerdale it's an aural experience. The ground falls away steeply and nothing is visible beyond the rocks below. Bannerdale is hidden. LIchened rock, deer grass the colours of red deer pelage, and thick green mosses. Mist, low cloud, aura of red deer and raven. Life and death seem interlocked for these creatures. Their history is charted on the map: Deer Forest, Raven Howe , Buck Crag and sheepfolds. The nature of the place.
In light rain, the air is laden with moisture. From Satura Crag at the head of Bannerdale it's an aural experience. The ground falls away steeply and nothing is visible beyond the rocks below. Bannerdale is hidden. LIchened rock, deer grass the colours of red deer pelage, and thick green mosses. Mist, low cloud, aura of red deer and raven. Life and death seem interlocked for these creatures. Their history is charted on the map: Deer Forest, Raven Howe , Buck Crag and sheepfolds. The nature of the place.
Each stag has a distinctive note, perhaps determined by physicality, the deep chest and resonance of the ten- year-old stag which has reached the peak of maturity. The Monarch may have antlers of 16 points or more. Mature stags clash as they compete for hinds in the October rut but their lives are solitary for the rest of the year. Hinds and immature stags tend to live together in groups. Red deer hinds have an eight month gestation, giving birth to a single calf in June. Ravens will be there at the birthing, scavenging for after-birth. They'll perch on crags watching and waiting at lambing time when the hill sheep, daubed in blood-red markings, give birth.
Raven fly low, a weird invisible gurgling out of thick white mist, close and secret. If we knew what the ravens say we would learn the arcana of the deer rut, all that is hidden to mere mortals. Ravens are fell scouts with an air of menace.
A memorable poem and folk song, has its origins in early medieval times. A Scots version, The Twa Corbies, is dark and brutal. Carrion crows have found the corpse of a murdered knight and they watch and wait. The knight has been abandoned by his hawks, his hounds and his lady. It's a tale of betrayal. The Three Ravens is elegiac. The knight's body is guarded by his faithful hounds and his hawks. A heavily pregnant doe appears- in some mystical sense we know she is his lover and she kisses his wounds and gives him burial before she dies at the hour of Evensong. The sinister black ravens are a key motif. The spies of moorland and fell, they share secret knowledge, conspiratorial.
I saw three ravens sat in a tree
They were as black as black could be
Counter tenor Andreas Scholl sings the traditional English folksong The Three Ravens
The poem is strikingly visual but the story of the knight's killing is withheld. Our unknowing is its power. It is a beautiful, haunting poem and song.
Raven fly low, a weird invisible gurgling out of thick white mist, close and secret. If we knew what the ravens say we would learn the arcana of the deer rut, all that is hidden to mere mortals. Ravens are fell scouts with an air of menace.
A memorable poem and folk song, has its origins in early medieval times. A Scots version, The Twa Corbies, is dark and brutal. Carrion crows have found the corpse of a murdered knight and they watch and wait. The knight has been abandoned by his hawks, his hounds and his lady. It's a tale of betrayal. The Three Ravens is elegiac. The knight's body is guarded by his faithful hounds and his hawks. A heavily pregnant doe appears- in some mystical sense we know she is his lover and she kisses his wounds and gives him burial before she dies at the hour of Evensong. The sinister black ravens are a key motif. The spies of moorland and fell, they share secret knowledge, conspiratorial.
I saw three ravens sat in a tree
They were as black as black could be
Counter tenor Andreas Scholl sings the traditional English folksong The Three Ravens
The poem is strikingly visual but the story of the knight's killing is withheld. Our unknowing is its power. It is a beautiful, haunting poem and song.
This final sequence of images was taken on 19 October 2017. A stag has gathered his harem of hinds and keeps them close. Coming here to witness the deer rut has become an October ritual. It's a reprise, each time enriched and deepened. Like the poem of The Three Ravens which I've known for as long as I can remember.
16 October 2015. A roaring stag and his harem. And a lovely moss, marsh forklet.
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