I have just done something that I had never willingly done before, and got up at dawn. It was my first visit to the New Forest, and I was keen to make the most of it. Like ravers and postmen, I thought, this is the time when animals would be at their most active. And so it proved, as I approached the first wood at the start of my walk, and the din of thousands of birds beeping and cackling at each other - all of them, the little buggers, somehow invisible.

There was one bird, in particular, that I was hoping to track down: the nightjar. The New Forest is one of the last remaining strongholds of this, one of Britain's most peculiar birds. Somewhere between a kestrel and a crocodile in appearance, the nightjar sings at dawn - a loud, throbbing, grasshopper sound - then spends its daytimes camouflaged among dead wood on the ground. According to legend, it also steals milk from goats. I don't know how it manages this, but that is what it says in my bird book and I am never one to spurn a piece of dodgy folklore.

So far, though, no nightjars. What I did come across as I continued into the wood was ponies, and plenty of them. New Forest ponies roam freely throughout the national park, many of them, at this time of year, with newly born, inquisitive foals by their side. Larger and more horse-like than Dartmoor or Shetland ponies, these animals are not technically wild, but descended from wild ancestors, and are owned by "commoners", who have the right by ancient law to graze them on New Forest land. Further dodgy folklore has it that the wild ancestors were themselves descended from Spanish horses that survived shipwrecks at the time of the Armada, and swam to the south coast.

As I sat down by a stream to eat breakfast, feeling a little disappointed that my early rise had not rewarded me with a badger, say, or one of the pigs that also roam the forest, I saw a deer looking at me from the other side of the water. It stayed there, completely still, for a couple of minutes, then bolted. This, with its small black-striped tail, was a fallow deer, and even if you are not lucky enough to see one wandering wild, you will see herds of them in one of the large enclosed fields where they roam with other types of deer - roe, red and, intriguingly, the odd albino.

Vindicated, I set off again looking and listening for nightjars. Like whitethroats, warblers, flycatchers and many other bird species visible during the walk, the nightjar migrates here from African wintering grounds, usually returning in mid-May. Today, however, there was no sign. The nightjars were perhaps still on their way back, caught up, maybe, casing out a goat herd.

Nonetheless, I could hear woodpeckers, cuckoos, an owl, and at one point a great spotted woodpecker flew past and attached himself to a tree, his Frenchman's beret a blur of red as he attacked the bark.

Moving out of the wood, I passed into a sequence of three heaths, each with its own characteristics of heather, gorse, wildlife and weirdos. Marsh tits, redstarts and sedge warblers on the first; a sparrowhawk, hovering over the next; lapwings, wheeling and darting about the third heath, fooling around, calling to each other with distinctive slide-whistles. There were people about now, too. A man, crossing Ober Heath with his border collies. "Hello there!" he greeted me. "Beautiful morning!" At this point, it was pouring down. And further on, a woman cycled past with a small dog strapped on to her back. Maybe it is the area, or maybe, as I suspect, this is the kind of behaviour that goes on at this time in the morning.

My best moment came near the end of the walk, when three red deer appeared on the edge of Ober Heath. I walked towards them, and to my surprise they let me get to within 20 metres. These were beautiful, large russet females, with big ears and white backsides. Even when they did move, they did so at leisure, seemingly unbothered by me following on behind, and turned round every now and again to see if I was still there.

I stayed with them a long while before starting back, feeling satisfied. The New Forest is by no means raw and rugged, but it does have a particular attractiveness, charm and close association with wildlife - think Ben Fogle, not Ben Nevis. Even if I didn't find any nightjars, I left feeling pleased that I did happen upon plenty enough of the deer and ponies that mark out the New Forest as a unique and special place.

• Ross Raisin walked route 4066 (New Forest's deer and ponies), an "easy" 10km