The hours between day’s end of Monday, 6th. April 2020 — and predawn of Tuesday, 7th.  April 2020 – mark the beginning and end of my ‘twenty-four’ hour ‘Shedathon’ — and no I haven’t been to bed yet (other than a mid morning catnap in a chair) – nor will I (knowing me as I do!) until the early hours of tomorrow; I am a confirmed night owl — and probably obsessed —— ‘Shed Hunter’! I saw the Moon rise yesterday evening and I saw it set this morning. My ‘Shedathon’ hasn’t all been spent outdoors searching for shed antlers though – Lockdown forbid! As many hours have been spent indoors dreaming about finding one! I must confess that I’m totally addicted to antlers at the minute – shed ones only, from a small group of magnificent, beneficent Red Deer Stags that roam freely over a large area local to where I live.

I only ever ‘ask’ ‘The Great Deer God’ for one per season but I don’t expect one.  As far as my shed hunting season goes – it amounts to a week or two from the start of April; because once the weather warms up —— the only thing ones likely to pick up is a whole load of bloodthirsty ticks – or worse!  

The odds of finding a shed are like searching for a needle in a haystack; if you don’t put in the hours and miles – there’s not even a chance you’ll find one.

I’m delighted to say — my ‘twenty-four’ hour ‘Shedathon’ paid dividends just before the Sun rose this morning; I found my lucky ‘Sixer’ with blood still wet on its pedicle —— as fresh as the rime on the grass! The ‘Pedicle’ is the bit at the base of the antler…

I say, ‘Sixer’ because I have five sheds already that all share the same Magick – all are fallen from a small group of truly wild stags – or Brothers as I think of them. Today’s antler has three ‘points’ only; its battle scar is what makes it the perfect prize! Judging by its hefty weight and by the circumference of the pedicle – I should think that the stag that gifted it was a mature ‘Royal’ stag at the very least – meaning he would’ve sported twelve points (six points per antler). The main beam of the antler has been ‘clean’ broken – in what can only be imagined as a ‘Battle Royal’! One can’t even begin to imagine the force of Nature — of antlers locking let alone ‘snapping’ mid-fight – especially as an antler is solid bone! And as for the pain —— unspeakable.I give my sheds names; there’s a ‘Yod’, a ‘Son of Yod’ –— a ‘Yaffle’…

Then there’s a ‘Yay’ — because there aren’t words to describe the thrill of when your eyes first perceive a fallen antler let alone picking it up; there are only noises!

Walking home in the direction of the rising Sun, I got to thinking about a fitting name for my new, impressive —— and unique ‘crown’?

No surprise, the first name that leapt into my head like a doe deer – was ‘Brontë’; three points, representing three Sisters, I thought. However, thinking in ‘Three’ on this occasion really didn’t suit a cast antler from a full-blooded male deer! 

For a ‘crown’ —— that less than twenty-four hours ago was warm still atop the majestic head of a defender of his territory — a clear winner and leader of his party; there was only one name for it – ‘BORIS’.  

#Clap For Boris

8:00 PM this evening – Tuesday, 7th April, 2020

To Boris.