It wasn't difficult to find the fox, the stench of decay was quite overwhelming. Nearby in the 19th century the "old men" (quarry expression for men who had "gone before") had driven a heading into the fell in search of some mineral or other. They had thrown the spoil down the fell side and it was towards this that the fox was heading when it died. It hadn't moved far from the place where the bullet had smashed into its fore shoulder, tried to make it to the spoil heap where it could rest up, but death had beaten it and now it lay covered in flies.

Of the shooter there was no trace save a cartridge case or two on the fell side. In the foxhunting history section I talked about "the bailiff refusing to keep the hounds", well the modern bailiff in 10 Downing St had done the same thing and this was the outcome. There had always been shooting, but I'd never seen it on the high fell before.

The fox will always be the predator especially at cubbing time when its easier to take a lamb or two than spend the night looking for small animals or worms and beetles. The farmer 'wants rid' and really isn't in many cases bothered about the means. There is more cruelty in 'control driven underground' than one carried out in the full glare of the nation.

But it wasn't about the 'foxes' was it? Most of the antis didn't care, they hated the horses, red coats and the trappings of the chase. Didn't see much of them when the foot and mouth hit Lakeland, and the culls were taking place with the attendant horror stories, and the pyres with their thick acrid smoke and stench drifting across the landscape.

I covered the carcass up with stones and climbed up the spoil heap to the heading.