Beneath the old bones of the Derbyshire hills, I wandered once more to that great gathering — the Chatsworth Country Fair.
Since its inception in the early eighties, when lurchers first stood proud among falcons, sheepdogs, and the whisper-quick ferret, the fair has flown the true colours of country sport.
A meeting of kindred spirits — where the moochers gather. The ferret men, the lampers, the dogmen — considered by some as ne’er-do-wells. Where every scar tells a tale, and every hound’s eye still holds the old fire.
Lurchers ran. Ferrets danced. And those who know, watched.