A new alien invasion

As muntjac and Chinese water deer expand their range, Patrick Laurie considers how these bizarre non-native species would fare in Scotland

- Patrick Laurie

I love muntjac. They’re weird, intriguing and delicious in equal measure, and I have been lucky enough to stalk them on a number of occasions in East Anglia. It has always been an entertaining challenge, wandering through deep reeds and alder carrs on the hunt for the strange little beasts in the dusk.

From where I am standing, the only problem with muntjac seems to arise when you reach for the skinning knife. When I returned home with a pair of muntjac carcasses in the back of my car, a friend once came to help me butcher them. After 10 minutes, he described the carcass as being “like a hare that has been superglued into a wetsuit”.

Having read around the subject, I realised that I love muntjac because they are unfamiliar. I live in Scotland and the little deer are simply an exotic novelty to me. Further south, people who live alongside muntjac take a much less favourable view. Given their outlandish appearance and curiosity of manners, it is hard to imagine how these little deer could ever lose their charm but, while familiarity does not breed contempt, it does nurture a frustrated intolerance.

The negative impact of muntjac has been well documented in British gardens, woodlands and nature. The invaders infest the undergrowth and strip away the natural regeneration that is vital to songbirds such as nightingales. Hedgerows are shredded and, without very firm management, local biodiversity takes a nosedive.

It is clear that muntjac continue to expand and extend their reach across an ever-larger part of England. As they follow natural corridors of habitat and exploit all kinds of woods and farmland, it is probably fair to say that their range will continue to grow and consolidate for the foreseeable future.