Warwickshire fox hunters say the law banning the sport is "a shambles" as they
gather on the first day of the new season.
The riders breathed the aroma of hot wine, the hounds were hungry for a scent,
but what you could really smell in the air at yesterday’s opening meeting of
the Warwickshire Hunt was the exalted whiff of English contrariness.
By rights, this kind of scene should now be consigned to antique dinner plates
and episodes of Downton Abbey. The nation’s huntsmen and women should have
hung up their red jackets, retired their steeds and submitted meekly to the
dictates of the urban tyranny. Strangely, it hasn’t happened like that.
Seven years after the Labour government passed a contentious law intended to
abolish hunting with hounds, the country’s hunts – which no longer chase a
live animal, but merely a trail of artificial scent instead – are in the
best shape anyone can remember.
Part of the reason is that the law has proved almost comically difficult to
enforce. Beneath its stated object of outlawing the hunting of wild mammals
with dogs, near-total confusion reigns. In theory, you can hunt mice, but
not rats, rabbits but not hares, domestic cats but not wild ones. Birds of
prey, but not foxhounds, can be set upon foxes. Yet a bigger factor appears
to be that exquisitely delinquent streak in the British character that
reacts against the hectoring and bossiness of officialdom. As a result,
thousands of people who previously had little obvious interest in hunting
have taken it up.
“Our membership has doubled to around 1,000 since the law was passed,” says
Sam Butler, the Warwickshire’s ebullient Master. “The support we are getting
from the communities is incredible. Our range of activities is expanding all
the time. Even with the economy the way it is, when everyone’s watching
where their money goes, we are hunting at least as much as ever.”
Certainly, yesterday’s season’s opener, at the hamlet of Oxhill, south of
Stratford-upon-Avon, offered an image of reassuring well-being. On a damp,
chilly morning, a hearty contingent of villagers turned out to cheer the
hunt off. The local pub laid on breakfast and drinks. There were no
protesters, no police, nothing that in any way detracted from a scene that
has been a part of the English countryside for centuries.
And yet. Not all is happiness in the hearts of the hunters. The ban is still
on the books, and the Conservative’s pre-election enthusiasm for rapid
repeal appears to have fallen victim to cold political reality. David
Cameron, describing himself on the stump as “a country boy”, promised a free
vote on the issue, but his aides now indicate that it would be
“inappropriate” to promote such a cause when all serious focus is on the
economy.
Then there’s the problem – as there tends to be – of keeping the Lib Dems on board. The Conservatives’ coalition partners are generally no keener on fox-hunting than New Labour. The one thing everyone, from hunting types to animal rights activists agrees upon, is that the law is a shambles, and there is little momentum towards a resolution.
“It’s frustrating,” says Alice Barnard, chief executive of the Countryside Alliance, huddled over coffee in Oxhill’s picturesque pub. “We understand the government’s difficulties, and we are realistic about the politics. The hunts are operating within the law, and we’ll continue to do so, but the fact is that we are stuck with one of the most useless, illiberal, and wrong-headed pieces of legislation that has ever been passed. It hasn’t saved the life of a single fox.
“You can say: 'Well, the hunts are doing fine, so why change anything?’ But that’s not the point. As long as the Act is there it represents the idea that hunting is wrong, and that people who hunt are reprehensible, and engage in cruelty. It makes no recognition of the enormous importance of the hunts in rural communities, the good works they do, and the positive effects they have on the welfare of the countryside. Until hunting is out from under this law it will never feel right, and that is why we have to keep on fighting.
“Tony Blair wrote in his memoirs that the ban was one of his biggest regrets [“I had a complete lapse,” wrote the former PM, “I didn’t 'feel it’ either way. I didn’t feel how, for fox-hunters, this was part of their way of life. I didn’t feel how, for those wanting a ban, this was fundamentally about cruelty. Result? Disaster.”], and I do believe that David Cameron is sincere, and that we will get a repeal.”
Blair claims credit for engineering enough loopholes to allow hunting to continue after a fashion, but, in a sense, his efforts served only to make a difficult situation worse. Huntsmen now complain that the restrictions – primarily on killing the fox – have actually worsened the animals’ lot, while anti-hunting campaigners accuse the hunts of ignoring the law.
Caught in the middle are the police. Rural constabularies point out that chasing around the countryside after huntsmen – even if they had the resources to do it – would be unlikely to produce useful evidence. The law is so riddled with contradictions that only a handful of prosecutions have been thought worth pursuing. Many traditional hunting areas, including Dorset, Devon and Cornwall, have seen no prosecutions at all.
“Of the ones that have succeeded, just six related to registered hunts,” says the blonde Mrs Barnard, 34, the CA’s first female head. “All the others have been of people who would have been acting illegally anyway, such as poachers.”
Outside the pub, Sam, a 54-year-old estate agent, is preparing to lead the hunt. It will follow a ready-laid scent trail across the kind of landscape Shakespeare would have recognised. If a real fox happens to cross the hounds’ path, the whipper-in must try to prevent them chasing it. If the beasts take no notice, well, that counts as an accident.
“It’s just a bad law,” says Sam. “It was passed out of ignorance and prejudice by people who knew nothing about the realities of hunting or rural life. What it has done is raise peoples’ passions, brought them closer together. It has focused attention on the important work the hunts do.
“Looking back you can see that we were right all along. Maybe we lost in Parliament, but we won the argument.”
Then there’s the problem – as there tends to be – of keeping the Lib Dems on board. The Conservatives’ coalition partners are generally no keener on fox-hunting than New Labour. The one thing everyone, from hunting types to animal rights activists agrees upon, is that the law is a shambles, and there is little momentum towards a resolution.
“It’s frustrating,” says Alice Barnard, chief executive of the Countryside Alliance, huddled over coffee in Oxhill’s picturesque pub. “We understand the government’s difficulties, and we are realistic about the politics. The hunts are operating within the law, and we’ll continue to do so, but the fact is that we are stuck with one of the most useless, illiberal, and wrong-headed pieces of legislation that has ever been passed. It hasn’t saved the life of a single fox.
“You can say: 'Well, the hunts are doing fine, so why change anything?’ But that’s not the point. As long as the Act is there it represents the idea that hunting is wrong, and that people who hunt are reprehensible, and engage in cruelty. It makes no recognition of the enormous importance of the hunts in rural communities, the good works they do, and the positive effects they have on the welfare of the countryside. Until hunting is out from under this law it will never feel right, and that is why we have to keep on fighting.
“Tony Blair wrote in his memoirs that the ban was one of his biggest regrets [“I had a complete lapse,” wrote the former PM, “I didn’t 'feel it’ either way. I didn’t feel how, for fox-hunters, this was part of their way of life. I didn’t feel how, for those wanting a ban, this was fundamentally about cruelty. Result? Disaster.”], and I do believe that David Cameron is sincere, and that we will get a repeal.”
Blair claims credit for engineering enough loopholes to allow hunting to continue after a fashion, but, in a sense, his efforts served only to make a difficult situation worse. Huntsmen now complain that the restrictions – primarily on killing the fox – have actually worsened the animals’ lot, while anti-hunting campaigners accuse the hunts of ignoring the law.
Caught in the middle are the police. Rural constabularies point out that chasing around the countryside after huntsmen – even if they had the resources to do it – would be unlikely to produce useful evidence. The law is so riddled with contradictions that only a handful of prosecutions have been thought worth pursuing. Many traditional hunting areas, including Dorset, Devon and Cornwall, have seen no prosecutions at all.
“Of the ones that have succeeded, just six related to registered hunts,” says the blonde Mrs Barnard, 34, the CA’s first female head. “All the others have been of people who would have been acting illegally anyway, such as poachers.”
Outside the pub, Sam, a 54-year-old estate agent, is preparing to lead the hunt. It will follow a ready-laid scent trail across the kind of landscape Shakespeare would have recognised. If a real fox happens to cross the hounds’ path, the whipper-in must try to prevent them chasing it. If the beasts take no notice, well, that counts as an accident.
“It’s just a bad law,” says Sam. “It was passed out of ignorance and prejudice by people who knew nothing about the realities of hunting or rural life. What it has done is raise peoples’ passions, brought them closer together. It has focused attention on the important work the hunts do.
“Looking back you can see that we were right all along. Maybe we lost in Parliament, but we won the argument.”
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