Perpetual birdsong is the order of the day as I walk down
every hedgerow in this part of The Cotswolds.
All the small birds you happen to
come across are all busy feeding their fledglings with mouthfuls of insects. The
between time of this frenzied feeding activity they can be heard in the tops of
the Hawthorn and Blackthorn bushes singing out across the landscape in a joyful
and triumphant fashion, as if signalling to all observers that with effort and
tenacity it is possible to accomplish all.
Alarming news this week that was brought to my attention
through the observations of the Coopers and a telephone call from my lifelong
friend and great gamekeeper Nimrod, on activities of deer poachers once again
in the area. Nimrod arranged to pick me
up at 7pm on Thursday evening to show me what he and the Coopers had
discovered.
Thursday night 7pm I was waiting out in the garden as
Nimrod pulled into the drive in his Land Rover and soon we were heading out
across country towards the Foxton Estate.
After about ten minutes we were driving down a track towards the river
at the top end of the valley where it sweeps up to the Tiger Forest. This was
the Abraham’s Estate. “This is a bit
off your beat,” I said to Nimrod. We
were approximately two and a half miles from my Badger sett and quite a few
miles from Nimrod’s Foxton Estate.
“I’ve been asked to look into these recent events by Lord
Foxton who is great friends with the Abrahams’”
He pulled the Land Rover up at a very thick hedge where
we both got out. Down at the base of the
hedge in a recently disturbed patch of cow parsley Nimrod was looking down on
to entrails, guts and a deer’s head. But
the most alarming thing of all was the almost fully formed foetus of a
fawn. This deer had been slaughtered and
butchered on the spot.
Deer poaching is always sad but poaching deer when this
near to giving birth is unforgivable.
Just a total and utter waste of life. The look upon Nimrod’s face
mirrored my own. The alarming reality of
this situation were that these poachers were of the worst kind. They were either totally ignorant of the life
cycle of the deer or just didn’t care and no self-respecting poacher would ever
try and claim a deer this time of the season, for the deer are about to have
their fawns or they have already given birth and the fawns are now dependent on
their mother’s milk.
“Allan!” Nimrod barked, “These poachers have got to be
stopped.”
“Have you informed the police?” I asked
“Lord Foxton and the Abrahams’ have. We believe the vehicle
is a double cab, green Toyota Hi-Lux.”
“I’ve seen it in the distance whilst down fishing.” I
then went onto ask Nimrod what he believed they were killing the deer with, was
it a .22 rifle? Nimrod didn’t answer the
question but walked over to the back of his Land Rover where he retrieved a
plastic Morrison’s shopping bag and handed it to me. I put my hand in and pulled out three
bolts.
“Crikey! They are
using a cross bow.” The weapon that no
gamekeeper or countryman ever wants to see in the countryside. A tool used to despatch game only used by
total morons. Having seen the bolts the
situation was all the more serious and a matter of urgency that we were to rid
these poachers from this part of The Cotswolds as soon as possible.
We got back into the Land Rover and there was pretty much
silence all the way home. Nimrod pulled
up to my house. “I can count on your
help then?”
“Defo!!” was the reply, “Green double cab Hi-Lux.”
“That’s right,” replied Nimrod nodding.
As I entered my kitchen Jackie was sewing a patch on her
favourite pair of jeans. I filled her in
and within seconds the darning needle was down and she was on the phone to the
Coopers, telling them to keep away from the Badger sett until the problem with
the poachers and their crossbow had been sorted out. As Jackie put the phone down she then asked
if the police had been informed. I replied
that they had and that I would be going out for the next few evenings to see
what I could see. Jackie then made a few
sandwiches and put into my old dinner bag and I was soon out of the house heading
across the fields towards The Tiger.
As I sat in the hedgerow looking down back through the
valley from The Tiger, the beauty was awe inspiring. I could see a small herd of Roe deer in the
lush grass down towards the river, a couple of Barn Owls and everything was
tranquil and peaceful. But if I were to
see the poacher’s truck, how on earth would I deal with it? The time now was 2am and I decided that the
poachers were not going to show this night, so I headed home.
The following night, Friday night, it was lashing down
with rain, it had been raining all day.
After tea I made sure my mobile phone was fully charged when Jackie
turned round and asked, “Surely, you are not going out on a night like this?”
“This is just the sort of night if I was poaching deer, I
would be out in.” Jackie put half a pork pie into a bag. The time was 10:30pm
when I left the house, I then made my way down to the garden shed where I
picked up a can of petrol which I normally use for my mower. I shook it, it was half full. That should be more than enough. I then trudged
across the fields making my way to the Tiger. The rain was driving down and it
was being pushed across from West to East by quite a persistent bellowing blow
but the temperature on this May night was not cold.
As I walked towards the Tiger I was thinking more and
more of a vantage point from where I could see as much of the countryside and
the routes into it as I could. The spot that came to mind was Hangman’s
Stone. A place where many a Highway man
and thieves were hung in years gone by for their butcherous exploits.
As I sat on an old beech trunk by the side of the stone,
the rain was still cascading down from the skies. I patiently waited. Longing to see some lights or any sign that
told me that the poachers were in the vicinity.
I looked at my phone and the time was 1:20am. I was sopping wet through and I was now
beginning to think it was going to be another ‘no show’. As I raised up off the
trunk and picked up the half gallon of petrol, I saw some lights towards the North
side of the Tiger. I quickly hurried
around the bottom of the vast woodland to greet it. I was soon trotting towards it and much to my
delight the lights were coming down around the bottom of the wood towards
me. I went into the woodland underneath
a thick canopy of beech leaves. There I
stopped and watched the lights coming ever closer. The truck then stopped and the lights were
speedily extinguished. Four hundred
yards from where I was stood. I had to
get nearer quickly. As I walked through
the wood trying to make as little noise as possible it swiftly became apparent,
this filthy, wet night was going to help me a lot more than it was going to
help them. The rain was dripping off the
trees and the wind was whistling overhead.
I was now sixty yards from the vehicle and it was a green, double
cabbed, Toyota Hi-Lux. There were three
men, they were unloading large torches and then I watched as one of the men
leant into the back of the truck and retrieved two crossbows. I felt a treacherous tingle run down the back
of my neck as I saw him hand one to his colleague. They were all dressed in green camouflage
clothing. I stood there under the beech
cover and watched intently as they headed out from the Tiger towards the lush
green river meadows where I had seen the deer the night before. As I watched them go out of sight I walked
towards the green Hi-Lux truck picking up a large stone. I noticed there were false number plates stuck
over the original license plates. “That is why you are so seldom caught,” I
thought. I smashed the windscreen with
the stone, then I smashed the side windows and the back window of the truck and
made sure that the truck was completely empty of life. I doused the inside of the truck with petrol,
stood a few yards back and went to strike a match which went out as quick as it
was struck. I walked over to the truck
and pulled out a seat cover, which was stinking of petrol. I got a stick from the wood and rammed it
into the seat cover, turned it away from the prevailing wind and knelt over it
with a box of matches. Hair singingly
quick, the ignition was instant. I
turned and threw the stick with the cover on it into the truck. A ball of flame instantly evolved. “That will give you something to think about.” Then I hurriedly turned on my heels and I made
my way up through the Tiger forest to the North boundary. Once through the Tiger forest, I rang
Nimrod. I told him that I had bumped
into the poachers’ truck and I had experienced spontaneous combustion of a
green, double cabbed, Toyota Hi-Lux truck and if the police got to the bottom
of the Tiger forest with haste they would stand a damn good chance of catching
them.
Saturday morning, a visit from the Coopers, Nimrod and
Lord Foxton. All resulting in my
behaviour being described as antics from Attila the Hun. They just did not believe my explanation on
spontaneous combustion and for a few minutes I felt like Vladimir Putin, the
Russian President who was accused this week by our own Prince Charles of
behaving like Adolf Hitler. Never mind,
onwards and upwards, please watch my short film of my badgers being visited by
deer.
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