Alan Mackenzie Photography

I have always loved the weather. An elderly neighbour during my childhood, Mr. Laskey (Leslie Sydney Laskey) inspired me to adopt meteorology as a hobby. For years, I had  misidentified Mr. Laskey's Stevenson Screen, a white, wooden weather instrument shelter, for a beehive. He was a kindly neighbour, who would come up his garden to return lost tennis, cricket and footballs over the fence. He found it amusing when I enquired about his 'bees and honey'. I asked if he could one day show me his weather instruments. When he did, I found them fascinating. He owned a maximum thermometer, a minimum thermometer, a grass thermometer, a soil thermometer, Snowdon rain gauge, a hail gauge made from aluminium foil and a Casella barograph in his sitting room. He ran a coal boiler all year, never owned a colour television and neatly recorded his weather observations in leather-bound log books. Those were the days when neighbours actually spoke. Today, neighbours only visit my mother's...

At no point could I rely on an accurate weather forecast during autumn 2025. When the Met Office predicted sunshine at Wakehurst, it rained all afternoon. They forecast thick cloud, so I cancelled and then the sun came out. Fortunately, despite the poor forecast accuracy and dull lighting, autumn colours are so vibrant that photographers don't need bright sunshine to create wonderful results. The village of Little Horsted in East Sussex has American Sweetgum, Ginko and European Beech producing dazzling colours every November. My Canon 500mm lens can reach high into the canopies. On a rainy afternoon, I spent four hours at Wakehurst, setting my camera along Westwood Valley and the lake under an umbrella the whole time. The gardens close at 4.30pm in November, so I walked to the pub, had a drink and caught the bus home. I usually visit Wakehurst in the summer months, so it seemed strange leaving in the dark.                  ...

I have wanted to photograph the roe deer rut for years, but despite trying, I never managed to witness actual mating or the conquest of territory. It would appear that I have arrived too late this time around to observe any battles.  The second-largest buck had a limp, which is likely to have been inflicted during a fight. Fortunately, the injury seems relatively mild, like a sprain, and it should heal in time. I spotted three adult males in late July, but it came as no surprise that the territory was conquered in my absence by the oldest, strongest buck. I first saw the dominant buck in early June, and he was already accompanied by a female. I was lucky enough to locate the pair again in a small field next to a public bridleway on August 4th. The pair sat together and every hour or so, the doe stood up and walked to a corner of the field, seemingly inviting the buck to get up and follow his mate. The buck was very interested in the doe's vaginal area, scenting her phero...

I've been visiting a nature reserve in West Sussex, known for being a reliable place to see Roe deer, since 2011. The fields are a home from home. I once pitched a tent overnight in a secluded spot to capture the deer roaming in the morning dew. There was nothing better than brewing morning coffee after a dawn session with my favourite wild animal. There's a wooden lodge at the end of a private drive, complete with a private buttercup meadow and a 24-hour nature reserve within walking distance. I wouldn't mind making an offer if it came onto the market. The land use has changed. Buttercups no longer appear in the two large, privately-owned fields adjacent to the reserve, as the horses, which kept the grasses short, have gone. In 2022, I spent 90 minutes following two bucks as the eldest drove the youngest through the buttercup meadow and away into a farmyard.  They are choosy eaters, preferring oak leaves and buttercup petals.  As night follows day, if you find the butter...