These are not the deer in question but some other deer illustrated elsewhere in Country Life, 1904

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My darling, I know you are as anxious as I to move on to other pressing matters, especially given what one finds going on in the world these days, not to mention the news.  I for instance attended a surprise party for Eduardo upon his return from Miami this weekend although I must admit it was hardly a surprise and in fact has become something of a tradition every time he returns from Miami but bless his heart he looks so refreshed and grateful to be back and we are so happy to have him back but there you are.  And yet I could not in good conscience continue if I did not draw your attention to an ancient ritual Country Life notes as having enjoyed something of a tradition at Lyme Hall, although perhaps not in 1904 and almost certainly not during the War when the Park was used as a lorry depot.  I quote: ...

I should say so, wouldn't you?  What was the point, do you think?  I can only assume the Legh family -- who you will remember had lived in the house and by extenstion with the deer for hundreds of years --  had expressed some concern about the hygiene of their woodland creatures and the faithful servant Walton, overhearing them, set out to rectify the matter.  Or, in lieu of television, was it some kind of harmless diversion for the household?  Eat your fishfingers darling and later Nanny will take you out on the terrace for the washing of the deer.  Or was it perhaps for some more sinister purpose, hunting perhaps?  Have Walton drive the deer past the front door as I feel like bagging one or two, do you suppose?  The King enjoyed grouse hunting, much to the dismay of the landed gentry, who had to entertain him, the carnage running to thousands of birds in a weekend at the big estates like Welbeck, seat of the Duke of Portland.  You can imagine the handsome young valets and fam tennants would have had to miss their Bible class with the Duke's half-sister Ottoline when the King came to satisfy his blood lust.  I'm ever so sorry, m'lady but I gotta beat the bushes for the birds for the King. 

Or more likely it was purely ritual, like Phillip Sassoon, taking the matter a step further, who gilded the antlers of the stag in his park so that when they crept out from the tree line the sun would glint on them.  Lovely.  Or Lord Berners who dyed all his doves in pastel shades and let them loose like beautiful clouds of colorful confetti.  He had little hoods for them so the dye wouldn't get in their tiny eyes, although now that I tell you this I wonder if it is quite true or if I made that part up.  Or Virginia Woolf made it up, I think, as it seems just the sort of thing she would do, don't you think? 

My darling, what do you think?

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