Country Matters: Sika and muntjac roam with the roe

THIS WEEKEND members of the British Deer Society are celebrating the 30th anniversary of their organisation with a modest jamboree at Blair Castle, the high, white, turreted home of the Duke of Atholl in Perthshire. No more suitable site could have been arranged, for Atholl is one of the most celebrated deer forests in Scotland, and the castle is packed with mementoes of the chase.

The society was formed in February 1963, when a small group of enthusiasts gathered at Woburn Abbey in Bedfordshire to hammer out a constitution. The prime mover of the enterprise was Jim Taylor- Page, a biology teacher who wanted a better deal for deer, which were then regarded by farmers and foresters as vermin, and had no protection in English law.

It is true that the Deer Act was already in preparation, and came into force later that year, setting close seasons and laying down minimum calibres for weapons. Yet unlike the Continent, where elaborate codes of practice in stalking and conservation had existed for centuries, England had no tradition and little knowledge of woodland deer management.

The reason was simple. On the open mountains in Scotland, stalking had been practised for at least 100 years, but until the Second World War relatively few wild deer had existed south of the border. Various factors then combined to produce a population explosion. One was the decay of the parks around country houses: fences and walls collapsed, and the deer, mainly fallow, escaped into surrounding country.

Another factor was the re- stocking of thousands of acres of woodland that had been clear-felled during the war. Young plantations, in the thicket stage, make ideal habitat for deer, and in the comfortable new accommodation thus created, both fallow and roe flourished mightily - for the Parkinson's law of deer is that they expand relentlessly to fill the space available.

So, during the Fifties, the sheer number of deer began to irritate farmers and foresters, who retaliated by massacring them, usually with shotguns, which fired pellets too small to kill such large animals cleanly. The result was that many deer were wounded and went off to die lingering deaths.

The British Deer Society was formed in an attempt to improve matters generally; and over the past 30 years it has achieved no mean success. After various hiccups caused by amateurish management, internecine feuds and lack of funds, the society has developed into a soundly based charity with almost 5,000 members. Its advice is frequently sought by official bodies, and behind the scenes it does much lobbying of government. In the field, it encourages the study of deer, and seeks to improve the skills of stalkers and increase the professionalism with which management of wild deer is carried out.

Yet the performance of the society over the past three decades pales beside that of the deer themselves. Nobody knows for sure how many now exist in Britain, but one expert, Richard Prior, is convinced that the total exceeds a million.

The three old-established species - roe, fallow and red - have been augmented by three exotic newcomers - Chinese water deer, Japanese sika and muntjac, all originally escapees from one park or another. Of these, none has performed more spectacularly than the little muntjac, or barking deer, which originally broke out of Woburn Park and has now spread throughout the south of England.

Many people find the muntjac by no means the most attractive of our deer: its stance - head lower than rump - is reminiscent of a pig, and it lacks the grace of roe or fallow. Yet it fascinates specialists, for it has several unique features.

One is that it has no definite rutting season, as other species do, but breeds all year round. Females come into season within seven or eight days of giving birth, and so are more or less permanently pregnant. Another curiosity is that females become very aggressive towards their offspring when a new fawn is on the way, and tend to drive youngsters off their own territory. It seems to be this aggression that makes muntjac such formidable colonisers of new ground: as family groups increase and break up, they are forever moving on in a continuous, creeping takeover.

Being small, shy and largely nocturnal, muntjac are deceptive animals. There are far more of them than is generally realised, and some experts believe that they now outnumber the ubiquitous roe deer.

Roe - distinguishable by the big white patch around their backsides and the lack of a tail - have themselves increased enormously since the Second World War. Their most recent boost came from the great storms of 1987 and 1990, when mature, open woodland destroyed by hurricanes was replaced by dense secondary growth, producing the kind of cover in which they thrive.

Yet the strange fact is that there has been a similar increase in European countries that escaped the hurricanes and therefore have not seen any violent silvicultural innovation. This suggests that the roe may have benefited from some climatic change not yet properly understood.

North of the border, the most worrying problem of recent years has been the inexorable build-up of red deer in the Scottish Highlands to more than 300,000, the highest total ever known. Other conservation bodies claim that the deer are destroying the environment by preventing regeneration of trees, and strident calls have gone out for stocks to be drastically reduced.

Some progress has now been made towards this end. Highland estates, clubbed together in management groups, and helped by the government- funded Red Deer Commission, have this year raised their cull of hinds by more than 30 per cent. Furthermore, the signs are that nature herself is taking a hand to bring numbers down. After last year's freak weather - bone-dry summer, sodden autumn - pregnancy rates in culled hinds were very low; winter mortality among calves has been high, and over the next few weeks hundreds more hinds will die of general debility before spring grass grows to save them.

Last year the deer society scored a notable success in persuading the Safeway supermarket chain to sell wild Scottish venison through 100 of its branches. Until that breakthrough, producers and dealers had always found it hard to shift deer-meat in any quantity on the home market: most venison had been shipped to Germany, France and Belgium. Two years ago, when there was a general collapse of prices, revenue to British estates slumped disastrously, and the incentive to cull was much reduced.

The venison scheme began promisingly. Last winter Safeway sold more than a million units, and at the height of the season was shifting 450 red deer carcasses a week. If this new initiative inspires estates to increase their cull - by far the most humane way of keeping the herd in good order - it may prove a breakthrough.

All in all, there is plenty for aficionados to talk about at Blair Atholl this weekend. And if venison does not appear on the menu at their ceremonial dinner in the castle tonight, I for one shall be extremely surprised.