I had hardly ventured forth into today's damp and chilly morning to walk up into the hills when I was confronted by....
....this newly-planted notice warning that the annual hunt across estate land had begun; and I had hardly passed the notice before....
....the hunters, all French, arrived.
They were very pleasant, and I felt like wishing them luck because, from our experience, at the moment there is very little in the way of game in these hills; there are certainly far fewer rabbits and roe deer.
I don't really object to hunting: how can I when....
....I used to be a keen fisherman - this is me fishing for rainbow trout in the beautiful Pungwe River in Zimbabwe - and I owned a .22 rifle when I lived in Rhodesia. Guns and hunting....
....run in the family - this is my great grandfather who was captain of the Scottish shooting team, and....
....the lady on the left is my mother's aunt Lil, seen here on a tiger shoot in India.
My views on hunting have changed as I've aged. While I might still go fishing if invited, I don't think I would now want to shoot anything, not unless there was very good reason for doing so.
Happily for the wildlife, and very much less so for the French visitors, I heard only one gunshot all morning.
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