In a display of public disobedience of a scale not seen since the last rounds of anti-globalisation protests in Argentina and Hong Kong, Britain’s rural communities have turned out en masse to defend their right to slaughter small furry animals.
It is well known that the foxes these brave people fearlessly hunt are a massive pest in the countryside.
I grew up in rural Gloucestershire, and saw many a time a fox making off with a whole cow or sheep in its mouth.
At night they would come from their lairs and dig up entire fields just to steal the potatoes. Sprouts, cabbage, carrots, parsnips and purple sprouting were other favourites of these pesky beasts. On Sundays the air was thick with the odour of roast dinners cooked in the foxes’ lairs.
They even used to kill the cute little rabbits that were happily munching away in the farmer’s fields.
On at least one occasion, a gang of foxes used oxyacetylene cutting equipment and industrial saws to force their way into the local factory farm complex to make off with 5,000 chickens.
My sister was eaten to death by at least one fox.
Of course, hunting is not just about killing things. It is about tradition, a way of life, sherry.
These hunters, these keen defenders of the old way, are also to be found ducking and burning witches, hanging, drawing and quartering petty thieves and starving the peasants through tithes.
Dec. 27, 2005