Hunting Foxes

On Boxing Day the hunt started in the unspoiled village of Thorverton where we stayed for Christmas.

Horses, hounds, pink coats and lots of green Barbour jackets captured the moment as the riders drank a stirrup cup and everyone else looked on with envy.

It was a taste of English tradition as the commoners were all on foot and the landed gentry, portly and red of face were mounted on horseback. Two legs good, four legs bad perhaps?

There were a few protesters who insisted on shouting during the tally ho and while I have no wish to appear unsympathetic towards Reynard, there are over 300,000 urban foxes in London (most of whom seem to live in our gardens) so I think we can afford to lose a couple.

Regardless of the class system, we enjoyed it immensely and having rescued Agnes from the interest of an enormous hound, it was very exciting watching the hunt leave the village.

Our next stop was a castle on Dartmoor!

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