Foxglove

We had done a lot of preliminary training to get to this point, and had been waiting for the right conditions. Although the moon was waxing, heavy cloud cover was expected to conceal it, the ground was soft, and there were rabbits about.

With luck, they would have stayed in shelter during the wild weather, and so be hungry enough to come out and feed in the night. The young black dog was fit enough, for he would not be out for long.

He had caught a few daytime rabbits and so he knew how they could dodge and swerve, and he knew that they were legitimate quarry. His recall and retrieving were sound. Now everything could be put together: we might have success or we might not, but this would be a major learning experience for the dog and also for his young handler.

Arriving at our destination, we parked in a sheltered spot, but even so the wind was catching at the vehicle's doors. The dog stood hunched against the gusts, his smooth coat giving little protection. I would handle the lamp: the owner would handle the dog. We walked down the track to the first field, pocked and rutted from cattle, and picked our way along the hedge to the next.

For full feature see West Sussex Gazette November 19