Kathryyn Truepenny wrote:
It’s that time of year again, when the poor fox runs for it’s life from the hungry hounds… all in the name of sport.
Foxes are free to come and go in our garden, and I feed them discreetly most nights. One has mange at the moment, so I’m treating it with a homeopathic remedy, as advised by Fox Project.
Anyway, dismayed that fox hunting still takes place, despite the ban, I wrote this anti-fox hunting poem some time ago, and hope you like it.
Through you and your supporters, the fox has a voice, and many thanks for all you do.
With best wishes,
Red is for them in their showy, red jackets.
Mounting their horses with inflamed egos
And blood-stained thoughts.
I only have to think of them and I see red.
The bugle sounds,
Release the hounds.
White is their colour.
Not pure, virgin white, but pale, deathly white.
Barks of excitement, tails wagging,
Milky, white teeth that rip life from flesh.
Their noses smell fear,
A fox is near.
Grey is for the saboteurs.
That solid, steely, grey of determination.
Waiting patiently in neutral,
Grey shadows of bush and bark
To hinder and thwart
This bloody sport.
The fox’s colour is brown, reddish brown;
The colour of decaying blood.
Running frantically from hoof and hound,
Across acres of woodland as fast as it can…
So much for the ban!
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