Guidebook writer Vivienne Crow shares her love of the great outdoors

Last updated 03:55, Monday, 19 May 2008

I WAS recently lucky enough to spot a couple of female red deer in the woods leading up to King’s How in Borrowdale.

It was early morning and I was climbing the stony path, crunching frosty leaves and twigs underfoot like an elephant when I spotted movement in the trees ahead.

I stopped dead still, holding my breath so as not to disturb the serenity of the moment as I watched the pair moving silently and gracefully through the woods.

Miraculously, they hadn’t heard me and I was able to stand and admire their fluid, effortless climbing for some minutes.

Then, I lost sight of them – they had disappeared, almost as magically and suddenly as they had appeared.

Spending so much time walking in the Cumbrian countryside, I am lucky to have had many close encounters with local wildlife.

Coming down from Gatescarth Pass towards Haweswater a couple of years ago, I heard a sudden whooshing noise above me.

In a split-second of confusion, I thought it was RAF low-flyers, but looking up I saw a peregrine falcon flying at high speed towards the crags of Harter Fell; it had spotted a pigeon.

Coming at it from such a steep angle, the peregrine had effectively trapped the smaller, slower bird, which flew straight towards the rocks with no chance of escape. The peregrine seized the moment – and the pigeon – and, in a flurry of feathers, was gone with its prey.

The speed at which this had all happened was amazing – and I had probably witnessed only a fraction of the 110mph of which peregrines are said to be capable.

Last winter I was researching riverside routes for some East Cumbria Countryside Project walks booklets. I had to get from Carlisle to Rockcliffe in time for the lunchtime bus back, so I was out just before first light.

The day dawned crisp and frosty, and there was a low, steam-like mist hanging over the River Eden.

As I drew level with Grinsdale a couple of miles downstream, I heard something splashing in the water below. I assumed it was some large salmon close to the surface.

Later on, as I passed Beaumont, I heard the noise again. With the mist having burned off by now, I stood and watched the water. Then I stood some more. And some more. Eventually, my patience paid off and the mystery was solved. An otter broke the surface, its sleek body clearly visible just a few feet away from me. It disappeared under the water and then came up again, even closer this time.

I was spellbound – this was the first time I’d seen an otter in the wild in England, and I was surprised to see one so close to the city.

We live in a world dominated by the urban environment, so it’s easy to forget that the natural world can sometimes be just around the corner – maybe just a walk away.

n Vivienne Crow is a freelance writer specialising in outdoor pursuits.