A sika vanishing act

Things are not quite what they were in sika land. At least, the particular patch where I stalk in southern England, and the country around it, has proved not to contain the limitless supply of shootable sika deer that some rose-coloured-spectacled stalkers took for granted only a few years ago.

Or is it simply that the sika, arguably the craftiest beast that ever set cloven hoof to British soil, has acquired the knack of effacing itself almost totally from the presence of folk who like to do some of their deerwatching through the scope sights of a rifle?

There are two schools of thought on the subject. On the one hand,