Reflections
I woke up in the night sound of the rain hammering the window.
It was coming down really heavy and I could hear it bouncing off the roof and running down the drain. I left the lights off because everyone else was asleep, I went down stairs and flicked the kettle on.
The heating was off and it was pretty cold so the warmth of my tea mug was most welcomed. I walked to the kitchen window and looked out onto the wasteground at the back of my house.
I must've been there the best part of an hour and while I stared into the night, flitting between counting the beads of rain on the glass and wiping away the condensation caused by my steaming tea mug.
I stood and thought about what the future holds for us. What will happen to the hunter in 2005? I started to get angry about the last few months so poured myself a large tumbler of scotch.
I thought about my first time out with the dogs and the first shot with the rifle...
I thought about my kids being born and how I will teach them of our ways and our beliefs.
I thought about all the people I've met up with from here and from Moochers. My true great friends. Those who walk our path and who are now criminals in their own land.
I thought about the centuries of tradition and the thousands who have walked the path and the thousands more that will.
I thought about all the laughs when we were all at Parliament Square and the utter dejection when our 'leaders' delt us a severe blow. Good times and bad times.
Is all this going to end?
I took a large gulp of the good stuff and I thought some more...
I thought about the poaching wars that raged across England from the mid seventeeth century.
I thought about the Game Laws of the late 1600's when the gamekeepers were given the legal power to enter and search houses for sporting dogs, rifles and nets. I thought about the draconian sentences dished out to the hunter.
I thought about how it effects us now. The original law was brought in to serve the rich landowners. It was class based. It served a minority that didn't agree with those they tried stop. Sound familiar?
Again we fight for our rights to continue as we always have but our enemies are now in a different guise. Instead of the gamekeeper with his powers of search we have the RSPCA. The new gamekeeper of the New Labour land owners. It's happening again and they say it's in the name of 'civilisation.' The jackboots are the same but it's a different police force.
I thought long and hard about my days and nights in the countryside. At peace with my surroundings. At night the hooting of the owl. The rough bark of the dog fox. In the early morning the powerful heron ready to reach his spot for breakfast. The kestrel hovering over the hedgerow. The buzzard circling high above.
These beautiful creatures to be beheld as the are. In their natural state, in their natural territory.
Hunters.
I hope one day I will be worthy to take my place among them.
I tipped what was left of my tea down the sink and looked futher out onto the wasteground. The light was starting to improve as the night became day.
Charlie appeared from behind an oil drum. His coat was soaked but he was alert looking over his shoulder for a perceived threat. He had a rat in his mouth and was looking for a quiet spot...
I had to smile at this stage. The hunter looking over his shoulder fearing he's about to become the hunted. I learnt alot that night.
Keep the faith Brothers and Sisters.
Charlie came again tonight. Looking for his quiet spot.
The rains have eased but the cold wind was as harsh as ever.
I glanced at the clock tonight. Several times I awoke from my sleep disturbed by strange dreams so eventually I rose from my bed, careful not to wake the wee ones as I crept down the stares. The noise of the kettle was soothing as the water boiled for my tea. The lights were off and I quickly settled.
I glanced out of the window over to the oil drum just in time to see Charlie sniffing around, ratless, looking to hide from the elements.
I've logged on here after watching him for about an hour. I drank my tea, poured my scotch, and just stared out of the window.
Charlie settled easier than I did tonight. He curled up inside his drum, only his nose visible under the sodium glow of the streetlight. I envy him in a way because he cannot comprehend his future. He knows only to sleep, to mate and to hunt.
Charlie has no concept of anything other than the moment. I imagine he sleeps peacefully undisturbed by the changing world. He finds his oil drum today... maybe his cardboard box tomorrow, who knows, hopefully a nice warm earth for later, if nature is fair to him this year.
He remained motionless. Lay out of harms way. It would have been easy to grab the rifle. Easier still to let out the dog. I could've done anything to disturb his peaceful slumber but instead I raised my glass and toasted him.
One hunter to another.
Written By Chris Jones