Richmond Park

Listen first. Somewhere beyond the bracken, a low, rolling roar carries across the grass. It sounds almost like a lion, but it is a red deer stag. Underfoot, the ground is soft and uneven, threaded with sandy paths and tufts of dry grass. The air smells of earth, fallen leaves and old wood. You are inside the city limits of London, yet the horizon is mostly trees and open sky. Welcome to Richmond Park.

This is the largest of London's Royal Parks, covering roughly 2,500 acres of grassland, woodland and ponds. That is big enough to lose the noise of the city for an hour or more. Much of the land has never been ploughed or built on in modern times. Because of that, it is one of the most important wildlife sites in the country. It is a National Nature Reserve, and it carries some of the highest conservation protections in Britain.

The park's story as an enclosed royal space begins with King Charles the First. In 1637, he turned this land into a hunting ground for red and fallow deer. He had moved his court to Richmond to escape plague in London, and he wanted somewhere close by to hunt. To keep the deer in, he built a long brick wall around the whole area. Much of the boundary wall you see today follows that same line.

Here is the first surprise. The enclosure was deeply unpopular. Some of the land belonged to local people, and the wall cut across their farmland and their paths. The king offered compensation, but many people still resented it. That tension between royal ownership and public access did not go away. In fact, it shaped the park for more than a century afterwards, and it is the reason you can walk here freely today.

In the eighteenth century, the park's ranger restricted entry to a small group of people with tickets. A local brewer named John Lewis challenged this in court. In 1758, he won the right for pedestrians to pass through. The gates were not always opened willingly, so ladders were installed so walkers could climb over the wall. It is a quiet piece of legal history. Every visitor on foot benefits from one stubborn man's case.

Now, the deer. Several hundred red and fallow deer still roam the park, descendants of the herds that lived here in the time of Charles the First. The red deer are the larger animals, with reddish-brown coats. The fallow deer are smaller and often spotted. They are wild animals, not pets. Please keep a respectful distance, at least fifty metres, and never feed them. Dogs must stay under close control around the herds.

If you are here in autumn, you are visiting during the rut. This is the breeding season, when stags compete for females. That roar you may hear is part of it. Stags lower their heads, clash antlers, and patrol their groups of hinds. It is dramatic to watch, but it is also the most dangerous time to get close. Stay well back, use a long lens if you are photographing, and let the animals have their space.

Walk towards the western edge of the park and you will find King Henry's Mound. This is one of the highest points here. According to a popular legend, King Henry the Eighth stood on this spot to watch for a signal from the Tower of London. The signal would mean that Anne Boleyn, his second wife, had been executed. Historians doubt the story. Henry was probably elsewhere that day. But the name has stayed.

The mound holds the second surprise. Look through the telescope, or through the gap cut in the holly hedge. Far away, framed perfectly, is the dome of Saint Paul's Cathedral, roughly ten miles to the east. This line of sight is a protected view. Planning rules prevent new buildings from blocking it. On a clear day, the dome sits in that small window of green. Many people walk past the mound without knowing the view is there.

Close to the mound stands Pembroke Lodge, a Georgian house set in formal gardens. Georgian means the style of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, with simple, balanced proportions. In the nineteenth century, it was the family home of the statesman Lord John Russell, who served as Prime Minister. Later, his grandson Bertrand Russell, the philosopher, spent his childhood here. Today the lodge has a café and terraces looking out across the Thames valley.

In the middle of the park, behind fences that keep the deer out, lies the Isabella Plantation. This is a woodland garden with streams, ponds and winding paths. It is best known for its azaleas and rhododendrons, which flower in bright pinks, reds and purples in late spring. In autumn, the colours shift to copper and gold. Nearby, the two Pen Ponds reflect the sky, and you may see herons standing very still at the water's edge.

As you walk, look closely at the oaks. Some of the trees here are hundreds of years old. Their trunks are wide, hollow or twisted, and their dead wood is left in place on purpose. That decaying timber supports insects, fungi and birds. The park is an important home for the stag beetle, a large insect with antler-like jaws. You will also hear loud green ring-necked parakeets, which now live in many London parks.

Before you leave, stand still for a moment. Look at the line of the trees, the bracken, the open ground running towards the wall. Nearly four centuries ago, a king closed this land for hunting. Today, runners, cyclists, families and dog walkers share it with the same deer. As you head for the gate, listen once more. Under the distant traffic, you may still hear the roar of a stag, carrying across the grass.