A hunt above the village,

For over a week now, the quietness of the days have been interrupted time and time again with the sounds of shotguns blasting pheasants out of the sky and at every turn on our walks, small flocks of nervous birds seem to be hiding away at field borders and on the bridleways.
After taking Albert to the vets for his xray and removal of the K wires in his femur, I loaded the car with the dogs and the five juvenile cockerels (the "sons" of Kate Winslett) and set off for the animal sanctuary in Greenfield. I had found the "boys" a good home in a large and leafy run, which seems the best bet for their future rather than for me to cram their skinny little bodies in the last remaining shelf in the freezer.
Rather surprisingly as we drove over the hill to Llanasa, we slipped into step with a whole array of horseboxes, hounds and hunt riders.
Watching a hunt in full "sail",is amazingly exciting and impressive and I look forward to the day when the conservatives finally reinstate the populist fox hunting laws.
Hunts in my experience are populated not by the stereotypical "toff" (whoever that is) but by no nonsense country people who run country businesses. The effort that has to applied by rider and animals in your average hunt is, I am sure, huge, and even though the outcome (ie the death of the fox) doesn't always sit right with me, the chance of escape is at least more balanced than say the odds taken by the fluttering pheasants before a large shoot.
Anyhow, in between transporting animals all day!
I have got nothing else done. But I did manage to pick Albert up before dusk. He had been sedated for his xray, which showed gross arthritic changes in his old fractured knee. The old wires had been removed but seemingly the prognosis for a proper recovery is questionable-(what ever that means!)
The orthopaedic vet wasn't available to to discuss her findings, so I had to be content with a less than detailed reading of the operation notes by the receptionist....I have arranged for the vet to call me at home to discuss her thoughts on the matter, but I suspect that in the future he may lose his leg
The plucky little chap, with his painful leg re shaved and stitched, woofed down several small portions of cat food when he got home and then fell asleep on the bed with his paws clasped tightly around my arm.