Fox’s Tribute To the Old Grey Hunter
To commemorate the ten years since the death of Jim Hunter, the long serving and much loved Secretary of the Fitzwilliam, we have reproduced a fox’s tribute to him which was written specially for his Funeral Service. We hope you enjoy reading this piece and it would be nice to think that it could really be true.
It is a chilly December day and earlier the hounds met at Laurel Farm, Great Gidding. Until now I have been left undisturbed, but I have just been woken from my afternoon nap. I can see you all sitting on the corner of Brawn’s Gorse; I was born here, you know. My mother was local and my father travelled up from the black peat of the fens. Suddenly I hear a twig crack, a rustle of thorn and a hound speaks. I’d better hasten to the south western corner by Poor Man’s Close, a route I know well. I creep away up the ditch but am spied by a watchful lady from Lutton and within seconds her holloa leaves the assembled company in no doubt that I have gone. The huntsman blows his hounds away on the good scent that I have left behind.
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