鈥淗eres to you John, may this be the first of many鈥
the group raise their hip flasks.
鈥淭o your first鈥 they toast as one.
鈥淚 can still remember my first鈥 begins Andrew
the hunts master鈥. 鈥淓aster 鈥68 it was,
an early Easter that year for the snow was still capping
the Black Hills and the frost hadn鈥檛 fully left the
ground鈥 the glazed eyes revealing the return of the
fond memory.
鈥淭hat鈥檚 36 years now, and you know it was like
yesterday, you never lose that feeling, the thrill it鈥檚
always there, everytime you see the head rise and the chase,
it鈥檚 better than sex John, isn鈥檛 it?,
鈥淵eah 鈥︹︹. Amm 鈥.鈥,
says John shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another.
鈥淩ight John, well you know it鈥檚 customary for
a speech after a first blood鈥, interrupts Andrew clapping
and rubbing his hands before another slug from his silver
plated hip flask.
鈥淭hat鈥檚 right John tell us all about it鈥,
demands Simon, vociferously backed by the group.
鈥淲ell 鈥 what can I say鈥 big Bessy here鈥,
he begins nervously 鈥渢he best mare I鈥檝e ever
sat on, she makes it easy, hard ground soft ground doesn鈥檛
matter, Bessy can handle any condition, you always feel
safe on Bessy鈥.
鈥淣ever mind Bessy what about Basil, it鈥檚 the
vermin we want to hear about鈥, interrupts Roger. 鈥淵eah
John, when did you see him鈥 鈥淒id he make it
back to his hole鈥 鈥淐鈥檓on John lets hear
it鈥 encourages the rest of the group.
鈥淩ight, well to start, the first fox I saw was a
she and she did make it back to her hole but her accompanying
cub, never. Bessy had just cleared old Jones鈥 dyke
when the two of them rose from the thicket and ran. Bessy
saw them as clear as myself as they turned sharp right,
I didn鈥檛 have to move an inch, Bessy made it without
instruction, using her well honed instinct and reflexes
she began the chase. The mother used every trick she had
to try and lose us, instinctively knowing her cub would
never make their den. Sharp left then right she knew all
the moves, but not for one second did I think I would be
thrown or that Bessy might lose her footing, I鈥檒l
tell you, Bessy could turn, at full gallop, on a frozen
pond. The mother put herself between her cub and Bessy but
the wee cub, inexperienced and ignorant in the art of survival
practically stopped to watch. The mother knew she could
do no more and retreated to her den in the hope that the
cub might somehow make it, but being confused and young
it seemed to loose direction. At this stage the hounds were
coming through Jones' dyke. The mother was watching from
the den, keening like a banshee when the pack arrived, led
by Sparky who hit the cub at full pelt causing the pair
to roll through the reeds, locked deeply together at the
throat. As the rest of the pack descended on the spectacle
one took a leg and another had its brush as they fought
in opposite directions. Sparky, like a good pack dog, never
let go of the throat, the reeds and grass turned crimson,
fur was flung into the air. The cub, hidden among the pack,
cried, a high pitched cry, like a human baby. God or some
higher power must have shown mercy for the crying stopped.
It was over. As I sat on Bessy who noisily chumped on grass
and as the dogs yelped with satisfaction, I could hear,
in the distance, the mothers keening as it rose to the cold
blue sky 鈥︹︹︹︹︹︹︹.
that鈥檚 my first鈥,
鈥淒on鈥檛 worry about the vixen John, now we know
where the den is Sparky鈥檒l soon flush her out鈥,
ignorantly offers Andrew.
John stares.
