The loud, far-reaching belching bellows of red stags greet me as I walk across the wide open spaces of Richmond Park.

The September afternoon is partially sunny and warm.

Small heath butterflies flit among the longer grasses, while daddy-long-legs (crane flies), very common this year, fly clumsily at ground level, seemingly lacking in aerodynamic perfection.

A heron perches precariously at the summit of a distant tall tree, and a patrolling kestrel disturbs a flock of starlings feeding in the grass.

All the while, the racous screech of rose-ringed parakeets shatters the otherwise tranquil atmosphere.

Approaching the deer, I notice that two noble red stags each guard a sizeable harem consisting of about 20 hinds, all of which rest quietly.

Both stags strut about bellowing, circling their conquests before approaching one another.

They seem to lack any conviction for a forceful head-on confrontation, but gently lock antlers and stand their ground without either giving way.

Perhaps they are too well matched, so merely go through the motions because each of their harems is, one would think, adequate enough for them to be content.

A few fallow deer lie among the red deer hinds, but their rutting season begins a little later so all is quiet among the bucks and does.

Soon, they too will join in in the fray – always an exciting event to watch, at a distance.