The deer had separated—the hart and doe turned suddenly to the right, and were fired at by my cousin, without effect. The stag went right a-head; and while I still gazed after him, a flash issued from a hollow in the hill, the sharp report of Hennessey’s piece succeeded, and the stag sprang full six feet from the ground, and tumbling over and over repeatedly, dropped upon the bent-grass with a rifle-bullet in his heart.


In addition to a herd of fallow deer, amounting to about one thousand six hundred, which are kept in Richmond Park, there is generally a stock of from forty to fifty red deer. Some stags from the latter are selected every year, and sent to Swinley, in order to be hunted by the king’s stag-hounds. When a stag, which has been hunted for three or four seasons, is returned to the park, to end his days there, he is generally more fierce and dangerous than any of the others at a particular season of the year. At that time it is sometimes not safe to approach him: and the keepers inform me that they have been obliged to fire at them with buck shot, when they have been attacked by them. They account for this ferocity, by the circumstance of the deer having been much handled, and consequently rendered more familiar with, and less afraid of, those whom they would naturally shun. It is sometimes very difficult to take stags for hunting. One fine stag was so powerful, and offered so much resistance, that two of his legs were broken in endeavouring to secure him, and he was obliged to be killed. One who had shown good sport in the royal hunt, was named ‘Sir Edmund,’ by his late Majesty, in consequence of Sir Edmund Nagle having been in at the ‘take’ after a long chase. This stag lived some years afterwards in the park; and it is a curious fact that he died the very same day on which Sir Edmund Nagle died. This deer herded with the cows, probably from having been so long separated from his usual companions.

Does are longer lived than bucks. One doe in Richmond Park lived to be twenty years old; and there are other instances of their having attained the same age.

A curious circumstance lately occurred, respecting the red deer in the park in question. In the year 1825, not a single calf was dropped by any of the hinds, though they had bred freely the preceding, and did the same in the subsequent year. I find an event recorded in the ‘Journal of a Naturalist,’ as having happened in the same year in regard to cows. It is there stated that, for many miles round the residence of the author, scarcely any female calves were born. This diminution of the usual breed of deer, and the increase of sex in another animal, is not a little remarkable.


Of the stag’s longevity much has been asserted, which latter observations have refuted, and upon the received maxim, that animals live seven times the number of years that bring them to perfection, and this requiring six to arrive at its maturity, the stag’s age may be fixed at nearly forty years.


Of the stag’s courage, when his personal safety requires it, the combat promoted by William, Duke of Cumberland, many years since, in an area where a stag was inclosed with a hunting tiger, and which made so resolute a defence that the tiger was at length obliged to give up, is a faithful record. It was in Ascot race week, and this novelty attracted an additional concourse of people. On a lawn by the road-side, a space was fenced in with very strong toiling, fifteen feet high, into which an old stag was turned, and shortly after the tiger was led in, hoodwinked, by two blacks who had the care of him, and his eyes and himself at once set at liberty. The instant he saw the deer, he crouched down on his belly, and creeping like a house-cat at a mouse, watched an opportunity of safely seizing his prey. The stag, however, warily turned as he turned, and this strange antagonist still found himself opposed by his formidable brow antlers. In vain the tiger attempted to turn his flanks, the stag had too much generalship, and this cautious warfare lasted until it became tedious, when his royal highness enquired, if, by irritating the tiger, the catastrophe of the combat might not be hastened; he was told it might be dangerous, but it was ordered to be done; the keepers went to the tiger, and did as they were ordered, when immediately, instead of attacking the deer, with a furious and elastic bounce, he sprang at, and cleared the toiling that enclosed him; great indeed was the confusion amongst the affrighted multitude, every one imagining him or herself the destined victim to the tiger’s rage, who, regardless of their fears, or their persons, crossed the road, and rushed into the opposite wood.

It happened a herd of fallow deer were feeding not far from the scene of action, on the haunch of one of them he instantly fastened, and brought it to the ground. His keepers, to whom he was perfectly familiarised, for some time hesitated to go near him; at length they ventured, cut the deer’s throat, and separating the haunch he had seized, which he never left from his hold for a moment, hoodwinked, and led him away with it in his mouth.