ruislip woods - 01/21/26

​

It was misting down outside as I walked over wet leaves and mud in outer Ruislip, looking at the sky's gray vapours growing darker as they stretched from the tops of the trees to the earth.

 

"Mild weather for January", I thought. I felt comfortable in my layers. Out past the lido, I came to a fork before veering left. There were matcha-green grasses growing at the foot of briars and I started to slip on the uneven path.

 

I caught myself, but I hadn't come prepared. The low-topped shoes I'd worn had taken on water, so I thought I'd turn back early, coming to a jagged-looking oak tree that grew on the edge of a paper birch grove I'd not noticed on the way in.

 

Through the branches, I could see a pair of eyes. A muntjac looking back in my direction. I’d seen these deer before in Studham when I’d walked from Dunstable, along the dual-carriageways in search of ancestral headstones, but this one was bigger. Broader.

 

I stood there as it watched me and then it started to move.

 

"It's coming right at me", I thought. I could see its shoulder blades wrinkling the tufted fur on its back as it walked. It's short, curved antlers hidden in the fog as it tilted its head back, giving a hoarse yell. Rough like a grainy whine. Gravelly. I tried to match the timbre, but failed. It was like something was lodged in its throat and as it cried again, it lifted its chestnut leg to stomp at the forest floor.

 

It was taunting me. Testing me. Or was it? I had a feeling it was bluffing, whatever it was doing, so I stayed motionless, breathing through my nose slowly. Then, after a moment, it bolted off to the right, down a hill and into the underbrush, leaving me alone again and suddenly aware of my damp sneakers.​