Yet let us look at another matter, the hunt itself. Over in Britain, it is all tallyho, handsome attire, follow the pack. An occasional fox gets mauled, but that is one fewer fox for a farmer to gas or shoot, to trap or snare. If the hunt is legalized rather than restricted -- as it is now -- there will be a few more foxes to be mauled. But attendant with the hunt are the festivities, and there are jobs for the keepers of kennels and stables and the land managers. There is equipment to be maintained. The Countryside Alliance claims 45,000 members in some 300 clubs. During the winter months, the countryside comes alive with activity. I say good show!
On this side of the Atlantic, we do, of course, have the tallyho set. There are the hounds and horses and stylish dress. Yet there is much more. North America is a continent and a pretty raw continent when the great outdoors is at issue. Some hunt for trophies, some for the feast after the hunt. I am numbered among the latter. I freely get up before the sun is in the sky and set up for turkey, deer or even bear. But I am not a particularly avid hunter. Once when with my partner I shot a bear -- or, likelier, he did -- I had to follow the critter for two hours or more before it dropped. Not much fun -- but when we got back to camp, we told some great stories, and there was a stupendous feast that night.
The important thing on this side of the Atlantic or the other is that English-speaking people find liberty in the air. We relish our freedoms, and one is to hunt. I hope the present ban on fox hunting is repealed over there. Possibly I even will join in the fray. Though if I do, I shall ride at the back of the hunt. I would not want to incite a dog to carnage.