On the hunt for Muntzilla

It was early autumn when I first heard him. I was sitting in a high seat in one of two small woods on the edge of the estate. Already the leaves were changing colour, but they still clung tightly to the oaks and the heavy bramble ground cover remained thick. Not great conditions for spotting muntjac.

So I blanked that morning. Only a single glimpse through the Pulsar Accolades of a passing doe, but she was far too deep in dense thicket woodland to consider following up. Then, just as I was thinking of heading home, there came a bark. Then another, and another: the repetitive bark of a territorial buck.

Now, I know the vocal range of a muntjac buck pretty well and this beastie had a deep, sonorous, baritone bark; throaty and inviting. He was a big buck, that much was