The Candle of the Roe
Small, elegant and elusive, the Roe Deer (Capreolus capreolus) moves like the spirit of the woodland across the Chase. The Roe has lived alongside people in the British Isles for millennia, leaving deep impressions in folklore and myth.
It is one of only two undisputed native deer species in Britain, the other being the Red Deer (although Fallow Deer have been here so long that they are also often considered native). Archaeological evidence places them here since before the Mesolithic period, more than 10,000 years ago.
Despite this ancient presence, the Roe nearly vanished from much of Britain. By the 18th century, intense hunting pressure and widespread deforestation had pushed them to extinction across most of England and Wales. Only scattered populations clung on in the rugged parts of Scotland.
Their return is largely owed to Victorian estate owners, who reintroduced the Roe to southern landscapes such as at Milton Abbas in Dorset. These rewilding efforts were motivated by sport, aesthetics, and a growing Romantic fascination with nature.
Today, Roe Deer are at a population high not seen in over a thousand years. They now inhabit almost every English county. Under cover of darkness, they increasingly slip into suburban gardens and urban green spaces.
They can be seen across the Chase but look carefully; they are more secretive than the larger Fallow, and solitary. In winter they may form small groups, but don’t move in large herds.
During the summer rut (July - August), bucks pursue does in tight circular chases around trees or shrubs. The repeated trampling leaves behind a visible loop on the ground, known as a roe ring.
Roe deer possess a remarkable biological adaptation. Though mating occurs in summer, the fertilised embryo does not implant until late December. This ensures kids are born in late May or early June, when food is abundant and conditions are gentle.
The Roe’s voice is a sudden, dog-like bark. Echoing through twilight woodland, this often catches walkers off guard. It is a warning call, either to rivals or to alert others of danger.
Roe in folklore
In British and Celtic tradition, deer (of any kind) are rarely mere animals. They are liminal beings, creatures of thresholds, often acting as messengers between worlds.
In some traditions deer were believed to be the livestock of the fairy folk. Legends tell of fairy women herding and milking does high on remote hillsides. The fairy women had the ability to shapeshift into deer form. To kill such a deer was to invite misfortune: hunters might find themselves cursed, led astray by will-o’-the-wisps, or lost forever in bogs and mist.
There are tales of magical deer that vanish into thin air. Those foolish enough to pursue such deer are said to be lured toward ravines, mires, or sheer exhaustion.
Locally, there are other stories. I’d heard of a specific roe in the Chase, a buck with a white mark on its forehead. And a curious thing: that the white blaze is not just a patch of fur, but an actual flame, glowing in the half-world between light and dark.
Who better to ask for more details than Rufus Penn, local wildlife expert and keeper of strange tales?
We met beneath the beeches as the sun was sinking. Rufus, voice low, said:
“They call it the Candle of the Roe. A light that burns and a guide to the lost.”
The Candle of the Roe
A movement in the wood stilled us both. There, in the hush, a roe buck stood. A pale forehead patch caught the last of the sun.
“You see it?” Rufus asked softly.
I wasn’t sure. The patch looked bright enough, but flame? I hesitated. The patch seemed to brighten and flicker.
“They say that mark burns.” Rufus whispered. “Not in this world, but in the thin space between. If you’re lost, the candle may appear, and you can follow. Just follow, don’t look back, the roe will lead you out, to safety. But if you follow, you must never look back. Not once. If you turn, the deer will be gone, and so will the path. You’ll walk forever in a wood that doesn’t end.”
“And if you chase it when you don’t need it, if you’re not truly lost; if you follow out of curiosity or greed; you’ll lose it and never find your way back. The deer will vanish, and the wood will close around you.”
The buck stamped once and melted into shadow.
We lingered briefly, watching carefully for anther sight, then turned for home. Dusk was gathering fast. As we walked, Rufus shared other scraps about roe deer, gathered from conversations with neighbours and acquaintances across the Chase:
“Some say that a roe that crosses your path at dawn means the day will end in rain.”
“If a roe crosses in front of you twice in one walk, turn home. The second is no deer, but a shadow borrowing its skin. Go, and quickly.”
“Never tell a roe your name. If you do, one day it will call you, you will answer, and you will not return”.
He said that children in the Chase once spoke a rhyme: “White on the brow, step back now. White on the chin, let it in.” The rhyme’s meaning is uncertain. Roe deer do have white chins, but rarely have white on the brow. Some say it was a warning to beware the candle of the roe.
He told of hunters who spoke of roe tracks suddenly disappearing, as if the deer had lifted clear into air. And an old tale of a poacher who caught a live roe and bound its legs, only to find the ropes empty by dawn. Next to the ropes lay his own hunting knife, broken into pieces. He never set snares again.
Back home, I thought of the deer’s pale flame and wished I had seen it more clearly.
I lit a candle. The flame trembled oddly, as if in a draught that wasn’t there. Outside the window, I thought something slipped past.
Maybe it was nothing.
But I set the candle down with care.