It Passes Inspection

A female badger in peek condition looking over her newly excavated quarters.

So far the winter has been extraordinarily kind to the badger population.  Although it has been awfully miserable for a lot of people, flooded homes, water everywhere, the badger has seldom had a winter so good.  Foraging on soft ground has been easy and although we are now into the third week of January the odd autumn berry can still be seen.  Frosted ground this winter has been so noticeable by its absence.
The badgers now from the main sett are starting to disperse.  The female badger in this short film has moved some hundred yards from the sett and her new abode has been a week in the making. This is the place she has decided to cub down.  She has got another month to 5 weeks looking at her before she brings new badger life into the woodland.  But I feel sure we are going to see a lot more winter before we see her cubs.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ovWTnmvmsd4

A female badger inspecting her new sett ready to settle into and have her cubs.

Nature, The Earth's True Prize Fighter.

As I sit here watching the Roe deer from my window in a totally wild state, I am only too well aware that they are there because they want to be, just like the badgers, up at the badger sett and the fox that visits regularly. 

Nature left to its own devices provides an eco-balance within the countryside which is maintained through flood, through drought, through scorching summers and biting cold winters.  An equilibrium is sustained, although looking on as an observer it seems at times a very harsh existence, but the older one gets and the more one sees, nature always has it just about right. 

 Our own Owen Paterson, Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs would profit more from looking at nature rather than trying to destroy it. The business of massaging figures to suit whatever argument he happens to be into at the time is just not good politics.

There are six species of deer that live in the UK, however, the Roe deer and the Red deer are the two native species of Britain and as I sit here and watch this small herd of Roe deer, how they have evolved through changing farming practises, de-forestation you cannot help but think and admire how amazingly well nature enables them to adapt and the insulting remark from Owen Paterson on how the badgers have move the goal posts, nothing could be further from reality.  Yes, for our large mammals, the goal posts are being continually moved, but our icons keep managing to roll with the blows.  Their numbers have diminished but they are still here.  But when a government massages figures to try and justify the most shambolic, ill-judged, unscientifically backed persecution of one of our greatest icons the badger, the deflated feeling of disappointment overwhelms you.

The Roe deer, the Red deer, the badger, even the good old country fox should all be held up and applauded for they are the wealth of a democracy.  A beacon of light to show that it still possible to thrive in amongst an atmosphere of change and oppression.

The badger is an animal very close to my heart, like many other people I am sure, but I cannot help but draw the comparison to the river otter.  An animal over many years blamed for depleted fish stocks in our rivers.  A culprit for the decline in river and wetland bird numbers.  Just as false now as it was then.  But the otter in most wild regions of the UK is extinct simply because his face was the right face to blame at the time. 

Species decline has been a 19^th, 20^th and 21^st century problem but now the take up of speed in the declines is happening at an unprecedented level.  Even in my lifetime I have seen the river meadows which were once covered in lapwing or pee-wits or plovers, whichever name you want to call them go to near none existent numbers.  All our species of bees, butterflies, moths, insects and invertebrates. All these things too in decline. The water vole that was once so plentiful throughout the country has almost disappeared, but for me, the most alarming decline is the humble house sparrow.  You would see them everywhere.  They would follow the corn carts at harvest time, they would be around the gable end of every house.  Now to see a group of six is a head turning experience. 

Species depletion is a situation which we all find ourselves in worldwide. It should concern everyone, none more so than our own Owen Paterson. 

And as I gaze down from my bedroom window onto this small herd of Roe deer I cannot help but to be amazed at the awe inspiring tenacity of the most wondrous being on the planet, Mother Nature.  She is fighting on all fronts and although millions of years old, her beauty is so still heart stoppingly sensational.  She is hit down time and time again but still rallies to her feet.  Constantly taking on all comers, punching above her weight. The earth’s true prize fighter, whose prize when won is given to each and every one of us. Governments come and go worldwide but it is Mother Nature who is always there trying to put wrongs right and to pick up the tab for governments all over the globe with their ongoing short sightedness.

But as you look around worldwide that gorgeous face that is millions of years old is starting to show the odd wrinkle.  Each species extinction is a wrinkle that can never be made erased.

It is in every being’s interest to be as gracious and as caring of nature as she tries to be within the world that we all love.

Roe deer outside my bedroom window.  Roe deer and Red deer are the only two native species to the British Isles.

Badger Politics New Week, New Challenges.

Chapter 1
I arrived home on Friday night, the end of a very wet week only to be greeted with an answerphone message from the Coopers.  The message wasn’t very clear but I had caught the word flood.  They had had a little flooding in their cottage last year which I thought I had put right in the spring, so fearing the worst I wasn’t in a real hurry to ring them back.  Nevertheless, after supper I returned their call. My concern however, was ill-founded as they had rang to tell me that the work I had done for them last spring in alleviating their cottage from any further flood damage had been accomplished and  had stopped them from being flooded yet again.  They were sitting at that moment in front of a roaring log fire and had never felt so safe and cosy.  Halleluiah, I thought.  The wettest week of the winter and the water had been kept at bay. 

 I remember their cottage from years ago and it never used to flood.  The thing with water courses, once blocked and restricted they can then start to create havoc in areas that were once trouble free.  Mrs Cooper then went on to say that Lord Foxton wanted to see me the following morning early.

“What’s that about?” I asked.

“Badgers” was the reply. 

Saturday morning at 8am, just getting light, I drove along to the Coopers’ cottage. Parked outside their cottage was the Range Rover of Lord Foxton’s.  As I knocked on the door I heard laughter and through the window I could see Mrs Cooper rise up from her armchair in front of the fire on her way to give me entrance.  She quickly whisked me into the sitting room where there was Mr Cooper, Lord and Lady Foxton and Alexandra.  But it was noticeable to me that on entering the room their faces which were a radiance of smiles appeared to go stony straight.  

“Cup of tea Allan?” asked Mrs Cooper. 

“Yes thank you.”  Lord and Lady Foxton along with Alexandra sat on the settee, Mr Cooper sat in his armchair. Mrs Cooper’s empty chair looked most inviting for a second in front of the glowing log fire.  An awkward silence followed, then Mrs Cooper came in and handed me the cup of tea.  She took her place in her armchair and gestured with her hand for me to sit down on an old leather pouffe which was positioned by the side of her chair.  No sooner had my behind touched the pouffe when the barrage from Lord Foxton began.

“What the hell did you think you were up to on Boxing Day?  All that smoke.  The afternoon’s hunting was totally ruined.”  I looked at the Coopers whose eyes didn’t leave the flames of the fire.  I noticed a smirk started to wrinkle the face of Alexandra.  

“Daddy’s friends had never had such a miserable time.”

“I am very sorry to hear that but it had absolutely nothing to do with me,” I fibbed, “but surely you haven’t got me round here just to talk about the Boxing Day hunt?”

“Badgers” replied Alexandra.  At last the Coopers eyes averted from the fire and all five people were staring, their eyes burning into me. 

“What about the badgers?”  I asked slightly uncomfortable.

“You promised us faithfully back in the late autumn that you would make the badger sett more concealed, more hidden.”

“Safe,” shouted Lord Foxton. “We were all up there yesterday and nothing has been done. You received our thoughts and plans on our Christmas card.” Which was true, I had, but the problems with all the rain and all the flooding programmes, I hadn’t given their badgers a thought.  The Coopers looked at me blankly. I tried to change the subject so I started to talk about the success of their now flood free cottage.  None of them wanted to hear it.  

Lady Foxton blurted out, “You said our badgers would have their cubs in the middle of February.”

“No I didn’t say that, I said that badgers have their cubs in the middle of February, I don’t know whether your badgers will or not.” What was encouraging me about this whole conversation more and more was that the Foxtons had no idea of the existence of our own badgers, Daddy Cool and his family.  The Coopers were the masters of espionage.  My fear of them letting it slip to the Foxtons was unjustified.  I could see that it was never going to happen. 

“Right,” said Lord Foxton getting up from the settee, “Let’s get up to the badger sett.”  We all put down our teacups and made our way to the Range Rover.  The Coopers climbed up into the back seat with Alexandra who seemed to be moving now amazingly well.  Lord Foxton at the wheel with Lady Foxton at his side in the front seat which left me sitting in the back with the two Labradors.  After a fifteen minute drive we arrived at Foxton Manor, then carried on through the grounds down towards the badger sett.  As we slowly rode along the headlands of the fields I thought back to the night when I had watched from the dug-out the Foxton family with the Coopers observing these badgers.

Soon we were clambering out the Range Rover looking over the stone wall onto their badger sett.  The leaves now were off the trees.  Everywhere was looking extremely wet, very bare, so stark and open.  I could immediately see their concern. 

“You see, you see,” Lord Foxton snapped, “Nothing has been done.”

“We are already on the 11^th January. In six or seven weeks we could have some baby badgers,” retorted Lady Foxton. 

“I do hope so,” said Alexandra.  Just then, I noticed coming down the track Nimrod, Lord Foxton’s gamekeeper.  He was driving down in his Land Rover to join us.  I walked over to meet him.

“Morning Nimrod. I’m in a bit of trouble here.”

“Morning Al, what have you done now?”

“It’s what I haven’t done is the problem. If you could organise the delivery of four lorry loads of walling stone and over the next week or so see if you can get two  hundred  blackthorn and hawthorn saplings, I can then make a start on the concealment of this badger sett thus making it safe although, it isn’t going to be a five minute job, or cheap.”

We walked over to the Foxtons and I reminded them that the whole necessity of this was down solely to the party they have always supported. 

“With the remarks this week of the government’s inability or unwillingness to test badger carcases for TB and their explanation for this coming out in the guise that they work on the principle that all badges have the disease, these actions have created a climate of destruction for the British badger. They have opened the flood gates to such atrocities and cruelty being caused to the animal which I cannot bear to talk about.” 

Lord Foxton barked back, “The financing for all this is coming from the money that I would have donated to the Conservative Party.”

The Coopers, Nimrod, Lady Foxton and Alexandra all cheered.  A family that has supported the Conservative party for generations had now turned their support wholly to the badgers.  Let work commence.

A Water Course doing what nature intended, draining the land around.

Watching Films of Badgers and Fish

January 8^th and Christmas is but a memory.  There seems to be hardly a place in The Cotswolds that hasn’t escaped the floods.  It has affected everywhere to some extent. 

Over the Christmas period while the family was all together, we thought it would be fun to look over some our films that we had made. There were some of the badgers, the children when they were small and some great fishing ones which showed off the sunny days, the glorious river and some of the magnificent trout I had caught.  Nostalgia can be so very sobering.

Everyday things that we all take for granted until incidents happen that totally shatter our belief and trust in the powers that govern all of us, the greatest environmental disaster of all time, Fukushima.  Every single day 300 tonnes of radioactive water enters the Pacific Ocean.  The radioactive material that is being released will outlive everything living  on this planet, constantly building up in the food chain.  Nobody will ever know for sure how many poor souls will develop cancer and other health problems as a result of the Fukushima nuclear disaster.  It is a nuclear holocaust that is just too horrifying to believe. 

It is estimated that there is 1300 nuclear rods that need to be removed and disposed of.  According to Reuters the combined amount of Cesium-137 contained in the nuclear fuel rods is 14,000 times greater than that what was released when the US dropped the atomic bomb onto Hiroshima at the end of World War 2.  Other estimates put this far higher. 

Something is causing fish along the West Coast of Canada to bleed from their gills, bellies and eye balls, Fukushima cannot be ruled out. 

Cesium-137 from Fukushima has been found in fish as far away as California and the duration of the clean-up of Fukushima will probably be in excess of fifty years.

The true horror of this disaster is only just starting to be understood.  Our drive for cheaper energy is causing circumstances that Mother Nature just cannot deal with.  I am well aware that wind farms and solar farms are a blot on the landscape and their productive capacity at this moment in time is quite clumsy and laboured, but surely it is best for us to try and harness nature to nurture us rather than obliterate the very things, the simple, down to earth things that life will be intolerable to be without.

I know reading this you might think it is terribly dramatic but Fukushima will affect the whole Northern Hemisphere by the time we are finished with it so when our Ministers talk of H20 ripping up more countryside to gain a few minutes at the end of a journey just to waste those few minutes doing something that is often so banal, I think we should all look at the nature that is around each and every one of us.  Cherish our rivers and our ancient woodlands and all wildlife within it. 

Here is a short film of my badgers grooming each other back in September 2013.  Nature has surely got to be one of our major priorities.

  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=roFmahwh9h0

Two Badgers Grooming at My Badger Sett

Badgers and Panda Cars

When I was a kid Police cars were always known as Panda Cars. Kids being kids we had no pandas so we used to know them as badger cars.
When I look at this film of my badgers which was taken back in October, I think back to the Spring when I would watch Daddy Cool and Mother badger nurture and reprimand their tiny infants.  The Spring of 2013 was savage.  Cold for so long, food was as scarce for the badgers as I can ever remember.  The Mayfly for my beloved fishing was almost none existent due to the cold weather. When mother badger appeared with her cubs she was skin and bone.  She was struggling to supply her young ones with the nourishing milk that they needed and this was on a good territory.
Badger numbers were depleted countrywide by about 25%.  Then from the middle of May onwards, nature rallied.  It was a great summer, supplying the necessary sustenance for all species.
I watched Daddy Cool and his family gain condition.  It was joyful, and then along came the dreadful badger cull.  Badgers shot, the carcasses not even being tested for TB, however, the most damaging aspect to all of this, it effectively lifted the 'Protected Status' from the badger.  And now there is barely a day that goes by when you don't hear of some atrocity being dished out to the wildlife icon.  Badgers being skinned, badgers being hung, badgers having their paws cut off, badgers being caught in gin traps and snares, badgers being found with cross bow bolts in their bodies.  It is a nightmare I cannot believe that I am having to witness, and I feel sure David Cameron and his ministers could no more shoot a badger than I could.  It is a situation that has now got out of control.
The badger sow is now slowing down all over the country, she is now heavily pregnant and she is thinking of the future.
If we want badgers everywhere to have a future we must all be vigilant and on our guard at all times, especially through these dark winter months.
The deed I despise most is badger baiting. An exercise that can take hours.  Badgers die an agonising, horrendously slow death along with a number of dogs, because no one dog will ever get the better of one badger.  As one dog is depleted they put in another, then another, then another.  A badger will fight to protect its family to the end and the results is always carnage and death.
This practise is on the rise due to this absurd, unscientifically based ill-judged badger cull and if you happen to see activity around any known badger sett that you think is suspicious, ring the police, for the police along with the RSPCA are the strongest allies and best friends the badger will ever have.
The Lord Protector of our woodlands now needs all the protection he can get.
All those years ago, we didn't call the panda car, badger car for nothing.

Watch my short film on http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1VW62OwcONU

My Badgers Resting

Ministers, Look After the Environment and Let Badgers Look After Themselves.

I don’t think I can ever remember a wetter, windier Christmas. It is always very much a downer once Christmas is over.  I look forward to it for weeks and weeks.  The build-up of Christmas is so exciting with the Christmas shopping, the making of mince pies, the making of the Christmas cake right back in October, and the putting up of the Christmas lights, the tree and the decorations and then once here it is gone in a flash.  Having all my family around me at the most enjoyable time of the year is truly the Christmas present I value above all others. 

Although, it seems only yesterday that we were shopping for presents such as, dolls, dolls houses, action men and tanks, each Christmas is a constant reminder that time stops for no one. Happiness and contentment are two of life’s biggest prizes and are always the true things to strive for. 

As I look out of my window, down the valley towards the river, which now is starting to resemble a massive lake I think back to years gone by when the flooding of river meadows was an annual occurrence.  The talk then was not of global warming it was simply winter floods.  These river meadows would all ice over and we could skate from one end of the valley to the other.  All that we needed was weather like we are experiencing now followed by hard, sharp day after day frosts.  The fun was immeasurable.  However, the fun of yesteryear seems to have been replaced by total and unmitigated misery.  As I sit here listening to the rain battering down on the roof of my house watching the continual run off of the rain down the fields into the valley below I cannot help but think it is the planning departments, the engineering and the infrastructure where the lessons of this misery lay.  Out here in the Cotswold countryside, a wet day, a wet week, a wet month is pretty much the same as it was when I was a kid.  But each time you turn on the television or listen to the radio I see and hear agonising hardship.  Peoples’ houses and businesses flooded out, houses peculiarly perched in lakes of water.

 However, while watching last evening’s news, I was absolutely astonished by the governments’ response to this mayhem in their intention to cut 1500 jobs in the Environmental Agency Department.  Could it be, with the saving of these jobs, it will give Mr Owen Paterson more millions to waste on this country’s futile badger cull?  I bow to superior minds and a much forward thinking government but in this instance it leaves me almost speechless.  The 1500 jobs that are due to be cut are just the jobs needed to keep drains clear, waterways clear, rivers clear, flood defences that are continually breached need to be maintained on a regular basis.  The government need to be employing more in the Environmental Agency, certainly not less.  Our rivers largely are in the worst state that they have been in since 1940.  All water course ways are in conditions of total neglect. Planning permissions being granted on flood plains that were never meant for development.  We unquestionably need more housing in this country, there is no argument there but with it must come better drainage, and a much more adequate rain water run-off system that has been totally lacking over the last thirty years. 

Global warming may be happening, it probably is, but the floods down in this valley I have seen many times before, long before global warming had ever been mentioned.

When our water companies were in the hands of the government the rivers and all water ways were looked after in a much superior fashion to what they are looked after today. As trees fell across rivers and brooks they were cleared but privatisation of all our major water companies have left our most vital resource in the hands of the stock market whose sole interest is the biggest annual dividend for the investor. This can be marvellous, I am sure, for an awful lot of businesses. I have nothing against capitalism per se, but when profits are put foremost on nature’s greatest gift, fresh water, something in whatever society has gone so painstakingly wrong. Many rivers that are fit to bursting in the winter months are brought down to, in some cases, a mere trickle in the summer months. Water extraction from our rivers is at an all-time high, and although we are the biggest beneficiary of that, nature is left very much impoverished.  It is yet another example of putting profits above our most delicate of nature’s eco systems. 

Short term, easy to get at policies is a criticism of not just this government, but of governments of the last thirty years.

My humble personal view on the whole of this wretched, miserable annual flooding fiasco is, it is as much man induced as it is natures’ so my advice to the Environmental Minister is, “look after the environment and let badgers look after themselves.”

The view from my kitchen window,

Make Smoke on a Boxing Day Hunt

My last update on this part of The Cotswolds described how we had left the woodland inhabitants their Winter Solstice banquet. This was in the guise of three wheelbarrowfuls of apples. The whole event was as enjoyable as always. The satisfaction for me is when you see the eagerness in which the gift is devoured, you know then they are taking steps to preserve their present condition that will take them ever nearer to the following spring. Who can forget the spring of 2013?  One of the coldest of the last 100 years.  Everything the wildlife depended on was late, ridiculously late and that was largely the reason why hedgehog numbers as well as door mice were so very down on previous years due to the fact, as they came out of hibernation their early spring diets were over a month late. A door mouse, just like the hedgehog needs to gain condition rapidly just after their hibernation if they are to survive.  Badger numbers were also down due to the cold spring.  The sow has her cubs’ middle of February.  The diet of worms and other such delights were still frozen into the ground.  A lot of cubs perished in their sett. 

But all that to one side, the summer of 2013 was one of the best for wildlife in all categories that we have seen for many a year. 

While we were distributing the apples I learnt from the Coopers that there was to be a large Boxing Day hunt in countryside that had not been hunted for many years, and an old fox, a family friend had become quite blasé with his toing and froing up and around Beech Wyn with the badgers.  He was known as Dini, his name of which had been passed down from his grandfather to his father and then to him.  This name had come about due to many a cunning act and stories of escape you would never believe, just like the great magician escape artiste, Houdini, hence the name. 

Christmas was coming at us at a pace.  Without doubt my favourite time of the year.  My family, like most families thoroughly enjoy Christmas and everything to do with it. 

The morning of the 22^nd December, after my camp out on the Winter Solstice with the badgers was busy, busy, busy.  The Coopers kicked the morning off with a telephone call asking how they could be of assistance in the protection of Dini, for they too knew him as well as I did.  I asked if they could pop round and meet me at Beech Wyn at 3 that afternoon.  That would then give me the hours in between to ring a few people and get evermore ready for Christmas with the family.  I then rang Nimrod, Lord Foxton’s gamekeeper who was a lifelong friend and also Conrad who was also a gamekeeper and one of my old school chums.  From Nimrod I wanted his snow chains and from Conrad I wanted his telescope as he had got increasingly more interested in the cosmos.  It must be a thing that comes with age as he showed very little interest in it when we were kids to my recollection.  I asked them to bring the items to the house for 12 noon. 

Jackie and the kids had gone to Cheltenham to do some more Christmas shopping, (my presents I think).

A couple of hours before 12 I drove up to my hedge laying programme where I picked up a land rover full of cordwood and branches.  I got four loads in total.  I put two loads down at the start of The Horn on the one side of the valley and the other two loads directly opposite two hundred yards apart, just as the gradient starts to rise. The Horn is a long valley that is wide one end and then narrows at the other. I then hastily got back to my house for 12 noon.   Nimrod and Conrad were both waiting.  As I got out of the land rover I was greeted with, “what on earth do you want snow chains for? Asked a puzzled Nimrod. “We’re not expecting any snow.”

“I could have understood it if it was armbands,” chuckled Conrad.

“All in good time, have a little patience. Now then Conrad, show me how to use this thing in daylight,” I asked reaching for his telescope.  It looked rather a sophisticated piece of kit.  Conrad then went through the dos and don’ts and made me promise him that if I damaged it I would have to replace it.  I invited them both into the house and gave them each a glass of cider. After some more light banter the talk then soon got round to the forthcoming Boxing Day hunt.  “It’s going to be a big one,” explained Nimrod.  “They are all meeting at his Lordship’s and there are a lot of foot soldiers for the Tory party who have been working tirelessly these last couple of years to get the hunting ban overturned.”

“Is his Lord and Ladyship and Antonio hunting?”

“No, however they will be there to greet all the hunting folk with the customary glass of sherry, they are, after all, the hosts. Since Antonio’s hunting accident, none of them have hunted at all.” 

Then a surprised Conrad, five minutes late as normal asked. “What do you mean, show me how this goes in daylight? It’s a telescope used to look at the moon and the stars.”

“It’s a tool for viewing distance, that’s what I need it for.” I replied. 

As we finished off our cider I found myself looking at their shiny land rovers, both long wheel bases. “One more thing chaps, I would like you to do another favour for me.  Fill your land rovers full of leaves, really pack them in tight as I want a good load and drive off down to the entrance of The Horn, five hundred yards in you will see two heaps of wood opposite one another, two hundred yards apart, both of them just starting on the gradient of the bank.  Each put your load of leaves on the pile of wood, pack them tight and thick. 

“Allan, what is this all about?” asked Nimrod looking serious.

“Yes, Al, what are we getting ourselves into?” asked Conrad nervously.

“Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies,” I replied tapping my nose.

“That’s all well and good but this hunt is around our beat. We can’t be seen to be interfering with it in any way. This is our jobs at stake.”

“Look, it’s simple, you are both gamekeepers, you look after woodlands, fill your land rovers full of leaves and distribute your cargo at night, under darkness. You will be no part of it.”

“Yeah, right, just like when we were kids.  Whenever we got involved with you it was trouble. But we can’t afford any trouble with these, you’re messing with the big leagues now Allan.”

“Trust me and do as I ask.”

They both left. Not quite as smiley as when they first arrived I didn’t think but I never had the slightest doubt that my request wouldn’t be answered, for these were my friends from the old school when your word was your bond. 

Soon it was 3pm and it was the time for the meeting with the Coopers up at Beech Wyn.  By the time I got there it was raining and the wind was blowing, it was downright miserable.  The Coopers were already there stood by their invalidity buggy sheltering by the side of the girth of the big beech trunk shielding themselves from the rain and the wind looking pretty down mouthed which wasn’t solely due to the weather. “Our badgers,” she said, “I don’t want a load of hounds marauding around our badger sett.”

“None of us do.”  The leaves had long dropped from the trees and you could now see the vastness of The Tiger forest up through Beech Wyn. “Natalya would turn in her grave,” said Mrs Cooper “for it was never to be hunted.”  

Legend has it that the young banished princess who had made her home in The Cotswolds with the Abrahams had once been gifted an Arctic fox fur coat from the Tsar of Russia which she had spattered in red ink and protested in Red Square in Moscow and through the streets of St Petersburg to protect the Arctic fox and try and bring awareness as early as 1900 of the fragility of such wildlife. By the way, The name Red Square is nothing to do with the colour red or communism, it simply means beautiful, just like Natalya who was years ahead of her time. 

Although Beech Wyn was out of the jurisdiction of any hunt, it was private woodland, but stray hounds and huntsmen cross boundaries onto private land all the time and we just couldn’t risk anybody stumbling across our badger sett. Operation Mozart’s Magic Flute depended on the utmost secrecy.  “This is for you Mr Cooper, look after it, it isn’t mine, I know you will be able to use it,” I said handing him over the precious telescope of Conrad’s.

Although the weather at this stage was pouring with rain and the wind nearly gale force, Mrs Cooper, now with the handing over of the telescope knew there was a plan of intent and you could see her excitement building.   “What’s you plan Allan? The hunt is definitely taking in part of The Horn and The Tiger, and looking at Dini, although he looks well, he is getting on in years and once flushed out he won’t have a prayer.”

“I know that,” I replied.  I then started to explain to them what I wanted them both to do on the morning of the 26^th December.  “The hunt is meeting at Lord Foxton’s at 11am and by the time they have all had their glass of sherry it will be 11:30am before they are on their way. I don’t know at this stage what time they will get to The Horn and I want you to ride up on your buggy to Deer Furlong, that is nearly two mile away from The Horn but that’s the way they will come.  But to start with I will drop off a hessian sack on the boundary of Beech Wyn that stinks of Dini’s territory markings that I want you to pick up and drag behind your buggy just to add a little more confusion into the mix. Once you are a mile away from Beech Wyn trail the sack from behind your buggy to Deer Furlong.  Scent that appears from nowhere and leads nowhere drives hounds mad. Once at Deer Furlong set up the telescope and phone me the minute you see the first hound or rider.”

“But what’s the plan? This is all very well Allan, but what is your plan?”  Mr Cooper was getting quite frustrated. 

“The plan is from the War of the Atlantic.  As the British destroyers protected the convoys that were coming to our aid from America in 1941, when the lethal U-boats were prowling The Atlantic looking to send any ship to the bottom of the sea that moved,  the order went out ‘Make smoke.’ They tried to make themselves invisible across the lucrative hunting grounds of The Atlantic and that quite simply is my plan, but we need the right weather,” which was out of my control. 

We went over the plan another two or three times, hugged each other. They then left on their invalidity buggy and they were soon on their way back to their warm, dry cottage.  I got home just as Jackie and the kids arrived back from the shopping in Cheltenham. 

Christmas Eve was as magical to me as every Christmas before.  The smiling faces of my children in anticipation of what their presents might be, my wife singing along to the Christmas hits of yesteryear, mainly the 70’s and 80’s  while preparing the food for the best dinner of the year, Christmas dinner.  The Christmas Eve Carol service galvanised the Christmas spirit.  Christmas Eve effortlessly slipped into Christmas day and a fantastic day was had by all. 

Bedtime had come and two very tired kids and an exhausted mum made their way up the wooden hill to bed.  I had one last job to do.  I left the house, got in my land rover and drove down to Beech Wyn.  I backed the land rover up to the wall of Beech Wyn and chucked a road kill pheasant into the back of it for bait.  I let the tailgate down on my land rover and sprung the steel mesh flap ready to greet Dini, I felt sure that he would come because at least twice a week along the winter months I would leave some road kill, wildlife road victim for him to get his teeth into.  I waited 100 yards from the land rover, the time was probably half past one in the morning.  And whack! I heard the trap spring.  As I got to the back of the land rover Dini was there, pheasant in mouth looking quite unperturbed.  “You are going to have to stay in there for a bit now boy.”  I then drove home with my new passenger.

Boxing Day morning duly arrived and the weather was absolutely perfect.  Foggy and still.  Perfect for a hunting scent but far from perfect for a hunting view. The Coopers were going to find it difficult to give me much warning unless this fog lifted.  I went outside checking on Dini who seemed to be quite comfortable in his new lodgings. I refilled his water bowl which he had turned over in the night.  He had reduced the pheasant to a few handfuls of feathers and was looking really quite content.   I then went in for breakfast where the rest of the family was tucking into theirs. I gulped down my last mouthful of tea and went back out and started to attach Nimrod’s snow chains to the wheels of my land rover.  “What on earth are you doing that for?  We’re not expecting any snow,” asked Jackie and my two children.

“No, there’s not going to be any snow, but I might need a bit more extra grip a little later on.”

“Where are you going? What are you doing?” asked Jackie.

“I’ve just got a little job down at the badger sett.”

“You’re not interfering with the hunt are you Allan?”

“Of course not, I’ve got a bit of burning up to do from my hedge laying project.  I will be back for lunch.”  I drove away from home.  Dini had not been seen by Jackie or the kids so hopefully they did not suspect a thing. I made my way down to The Horn and there I started to doctor the heaps of wood which were now covered in leaves.  Nimrod and Conrad had done a first class job.  This was ideal.  I started to scoop my way into the middle of the timber through the leaves where I placed half an old duvet which I had brought from home.  I soaked the duvet with half a gallon of diesel and repeated the same procedure on the opposite heap of wood.  The two halves of duvet were marinating nicely in the diesel in the middle of these two piles of timber.  The plan was primed, I looked at Dini.  “Don’t worry old friend, I have got a feeling that this is going to get rougher before it gets smoother.” He just looked out at me, I could just see the end of his pink tongue between his upper and lower front teeth.  “That’s got to mean something,” I thought, but for the life of me I didn’t know what.  The time now was twenty five to twelve.  My phone rang, “yes,” I quickly answered.  It was Nimrod,

“The hunt has just left Lord Foxton’s and Allan, it is a big one.”

“Thanks Nimrod,” soon all was silent.  Periodically I could hear the hounds making tongue but they were still a long way away.  The wait was getting quite laborious and tiring.  Now Dini was starting to get fractious.  He was creating quite a lot of noise in the back of the land rover.  “They’re getting closer,” I thought.  Dini could hear them and he could sense them.  He was now starting to act like a caged animal.  His calmness had been replaced with an anxiety and as I watched him he was very slightly trembling.  “They are near, come on Mr and Mrs Cooper,” and then my phone rang.  A scream on the other end, “Make smoke, make smoke, they’re on us,” yelled the Coopers.  I quickly picked up the small can of petrol and doused the diesel marinated old duvet.  I threw in a match, whoosh! Was the noise.  It had ignited instantly.  I ran over to the other marinated duvet and did the same.  Whoosh! Went the other one.  I pushed all the leaves back over the timber.  Now the fires were both belching smoke.  Thick bonfire smoke.  My phone went again.  With dirty hands I fumbled to slide my soiled fingers across the face of the phone.  “Get out of there, get out of there,” screamed Conrad, “There’s another lot coming down from the opposite end of The Horn.”

“Thanks,” and with that I jumped into the land rover.  This was my worst nightmare.  Any fox in The Horn did not have a chance.  This was a pincer movement.  I looked up to the far bank of The Tiger.  It was a large Cotswold stone Obelisk also known as a Folly which had been put up by Natalya Abrahams after her husband’s death and she had called it ‘The Eye of The Tiger’, because from that point, the view of The Cotswolds seemed endless.  They say it was her favourite place on earth next to her beloved Russia.

I drove down The Horn turning my land rover towards the Obelisk, ‘The Eye of The Tiger’.  As I started to climb in my mirror I could see the shaking head of Dini.  As we ascended further I looked to my right and left.  The Horn was now full of smoke, absolutely thick.  This slope I was trying to scale was sheer.  This was absolute madness. Jackie and the kids would have had kittens if they had known what I was up to. Jackie had been with me years ago when we had climbed the great Plynlimon the highest point in the Cambrian Mountains in Mid Wales in a land rover. But I had climbed The Tiger once before in a land rover which no local had ever believed and it’s eerie beyond belief. 

I was half way up in low range and in second gear and the squally rain now started to fall. The wheels were still finding grip.  Then my worse fear, I came almost to a standstill.  I then turned the steering wheel left then right feeling for the tiniest of grip.  Holding my nerve I sat there moving ever steadily upwards. For a second or two I could have sworn I saw through the gloom on the precipice Natalya wearing her red ink spattered white Arctic Fox fur beckoning me ever closer.  Then the land rover started to slip back.  The bank was now wet, however, I was committed, I could not stop.  Then I did the biggest of no no’s in a four wheel drive vehicle. I turned on an angle, looking for that precious bite. This was as near to turning over as you can ever be.  Diff lock on full and with this dangerous angle the land rover found the edge of some bite.  I felt Dini was almost rocking to help gain us traction.  Then from almost nowhere, grip was found.  I straightened the land rover up towards ‘The Eye of The Tiger’.  The nearer I got to the top the more severe the slope but the dryer it became.  The land rover was now positively relishing the test, and with each half-slip wheel the victory was now looking assured to the land rover.  I came up over the top, I stopped and looked down, and the valley was still enveloped in thick smoke.  I could hear a distant horn. I got out my phone and saw that I had two missed calls, both from the Coopers.  Then my phone rang whilst I was holding it.  Again it was the Coopers.  “Where are you, where are you?  We can’t see a thing.  The Horn is thick with smoke but the whole hunt and the hounds are down in amongst it somewhere.  Please say you are not in The Horn. Are you safe?”

“I am very safe. I am delivering a present to Natalya. Thanks for everything you have done today. Now make your way home.” I looked down into a smoke filled Horn.  Visibility was down to about 15 meters. I opened the back of the land rover and Dini leapt out at a break neck speed and jumped up on to the Cotswold stone memorial. It was as if Dini had learnt all about Natalya also. 

As I left I couldn’t help but smile, Natalya would have been overjoyed.  If there was ever a day’s hunt that was ruined, it was this one.

Bonfire of leaves creates an impregnable screen masking vision almost completely.