Foxhunting Life readers may not recognize their old friend, Pete, in this story. We generally find him drunk, misguided, and irresponsible. On this timely subject, however, the author allows him a sober and a somber moment.

Pete settled himself in the chair, took a pull from his pint, wiped the froth from his mouth and belched. Outside the pub it was pitch black and a wind drove hail against the windows, but inside a fire burned in the hearth and its warmth filled the room.

“Job’s buggered,” he said. “Hunting isn’t coming back.”

I looked at him. “Bonner, Barney, and the Countryside Alliance to name but a few would disagree,” I said.

Pete took another pull on his pint and sat considering. Finally he spoke.

“What would happen if it did?” he asked. “T’ hunt monitors will go back to being sabs. Never be like it was in our day.”