Now I have nothing whatsoever against those who go in for Fox Hunting. If they want to dress up in red coats, and chase all over the countryside with their hounds in the vain hope of hunting down a fox, then that's up to them. On the other hand, I do think it's a rather pointless activity however, as a good dose of gas down their barrows or a bullet up their collective backsides is a far better way of ridding the countryside of these creatures. But apparently that's bad sportsmanship. Have to give the fox a chance you see.

Now foxes, sensible creatures that they are, have over the years, sussed out this game and moved into our towns by craftily following the railway embankments. Indeed last time I was on Pitsea station one was happily standing on the platform. As if waiting for a train. Rather like the famous travelling pigeons of London's underground, who hop on at one station and off at the next. Once away from the railway, they have plenty of food available courtesy of your dustbins, and some ideal accommodation to be found under these garden sheds. According to the experts, your average suburban fox is a very healthy animal.

Indeed like suburban Badgers. People even put out food for them. Mind you if they kept chickens and foxie staged a chicken raid one night they would I have no doubt soon change their tune. But as is well known Chickens these days come wrapped in plastic, featherless and with their insides removed.

But to the self appointed fox protection league of assorted veggies. Hunting foxes is a big no no. Which is where they have a point. You cant eat a fox, and in my view, that's what hunting is all about. Not Sport but a way of obtaining food.

Wasn't always like this, for I can remember in my days of distant youth, helping to wire up a series of outbuildings on an Essex Farm for electricity. The owner was the local master of hounds, and kept a pack on the farm, using them in the season to go hunting deer. Which when killed and brought back were hung in the barns. Until being butchered to provide meat for his and a number of friends and villagers tables. Now that sort of hunting I can understand as you can at least eat Venison.

Indeed this double standard by both sides of the augment, was brought home the other day, when on a visit to Houghton Hall near Kings Lynn. I had to use a taxi to get from Station to Hall, where my driver and I found the estate full of deer. Talking to the groundsman on arrival it seems that each year a fair number get culled. "Oh shame cried my driver, poor little deer." "But you like Venison" asked the groundsman. "Oh yes, expensive though" said my Driver. Well said the groundsman, "where do you think all that venison comes from."

ENDS