A few years ago I was competing in a 24-hour ultra-endurance event. Daylight had vanished and the road before me was lit solely by the light mounted to my helmet. Beside me, just three metres to my left, a barn owl tracked the very same beam. It flew with me for minutes and I felt privileged to play a small part in its evening hunt.
This symbiotic encounter underlined something I already knew: the bicycle gives you the best seat in the house for wildlife viewing.
Yesterday, though, up close and personal took on a whole new meaning.
It was late afternoon, the temperature had dipped and the hills were waiting. Although Southeast England isn’t bursting at the seams with premium-grade gravel surfaces, there’s enough bridleways and green lanes to piece together a half-decent parcours. I specced three good off-road ascents of around five minutes in length, the goal being V02-max style efforts.
But the scratch hadn’t quite been itched, so I added 15 off-the-cuff minutes of threshold to conclude the session. Winding up some heavy-duty wattage I settled into the effort, happy to be riding fast, feeling strong, tyres skipping over loose green lane grit.
Then beside me a dramatic melee in the foliage, followed by a bright russet explosion of fur and limbs and antlers that burst out onto the trail. A huge roe buck had jumped into the path less than metre from my front wheel.
Roe deer are medium-sized deer, at around 60 to 75 centimeters high to the shoulder. They’re ‘abundant’ in the UK, according to the British Deer Society, and weigh 10-25 kilograms; the males (bucks) sport antlers (bad news for me).
For a split-second our eyes met. I saw panic and fear. He saw resignation. This was going to hurt. I was riding at over 20 miles per hour – too fast for this impromptu meet and greet to conclude without at least one of us leaving the scene in a lot of discomfort.
I slammed on the brakes, clipped his rump with my right leg, hit the deck and unceremoniously scattered myself along a further five metres of the trail. The roe buck disappeared, thankfully seemingly unscathed.
I lay on the floor in a state of complete shock, my right side starting to sting as I looked down to see a shredded pair of cycling shorts soaked through with blood. My jersey had suffered the same fate and my helmet had been reduced to a heavily-crumpled keepsake.
Waking up this morning, my body ached. The bike escaped with little more than a scuffed bar end. I'll need a new helmet, a new pair of shorts, a new jersey and probably a few weeks for the bruising to subside.
But what of the wider lesson? I love the outdoors, and I want to ride in a way that respects its inhabitants; I also don't like hitting the deck. I expect most of us feel the same. How can future encounters such as this be avoided?
According to the British Deer Association’s technical advisor – and author of a catalogue of deer-based literature – Charles Smith-Jones, the time of year (early August) likely played a strong role in my ‘oh deer’ moment.
“Roe bucks are particularly active at this time of the year,” Smith-Jones explains. “It’s their rutting season so it’s common to see the bigger males move quickly to survey their territories.”
“Fallow and red deer usually have their rut in the early autumn, and they can often be much bigger than roe,” he continues.
I’d always considered off-road the ‘safer’ landscape over the road, where cars certainly seem to rule the roost. However, the encounter has seen me reevaluate how comfortable I am letting excitement take over my senses in the pursuit of power numbers.
“On the bike it’s difficult but you have to learn to be aware of your surroundings, watch out for erratic movements in foliage,” advises Smith-Jones. “If you’re in a car we always advise that you ‘never veer for a deer’ as this can often have more significant consequences than hitting the animal
“The highest periods of risk, when the deer are most active and likely to cross your path, are from sunset to midnight and the hours shortly before and after sunrise. And remember, if you’ve seen one, there’s likely more about.”
I will continue to ride hard on gravel, but high-intensity efforts will exclusively take place in open expanses, where wandering wildlife can be preempted. And the next time I’m weaving through a leafy countryside corridor, I'll be looking as much into the undergrowth as I will at the trail ahead.