Dying tradition

Years ago hunting was popular in rural East Yorkshire but not so now-a-days. So you can imagine my surprise when this scene unfolded behind me.

It was an absolutely atrocious day with a strong easterly wind and flurries of hailstones, a quad bike passed me on the other side of the fence going like the proverbial bat out of hell, I assumed he was on his way to an injured sheep or some other problem and thought no more about it. As the weather got worse and the hail started again I decided that way my lot and turned back towards the gate. Just at that moment the hunt arrived and I realised the quad must have been laying the scent. The hounds swarmed all round me, good job I'm not frightened of dogs as they are quite large, and headed off on completely the wrong direction! The hail got worse and after a couple of minutes the whippers in rounded up the hounds, the completely white by now, huntsmen turned round and disappeared thro' the same gate.

With various thoughts whizzing tho' my mind I headed back to the car, put the heater on and mulled over how crazy people are me being the nuttiest going out for blip in that weather!