Foxglove November 19 2008

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. We would not run the dog in these heavy ruts when there were better fields ahead. The metal gate twanged but we hope the wind would hide the noise; I flicked on the lamp and we saw - rabbits!

Lamp off again straight away. Picking a likely bunny well out in the field, we moved around to have the wind in our faces, and when I judged we were close enough, on went the lamp. The rabbit started to run and the dog, well sighted, lunged on the slip. Released, he locked onto his quarry, quickly up to it for this is a very fast dog, and then began to match its turns while I kept the lamp beam on the rabbit ahead of the dog.

Other rabbits ran for safety, briefly silvered in the light and then lost into the darkness. It was a good run, for although the dog lost ground each time his rabbit turned, he made it up again in a few strides, and while the rabbit managed to reach the safety of the hedge, the dog had not been far behind.

He had stuck with the rabbit we had illuminated for him and not allowed himself to be distracted by the others running past. I kept the lamp on the hedge for a few moments, as sometimes rabbits will pop out again, but this one had made it home and was not going anywhere. Off with the lamp and the first big test of our training: would the dog come straight back or would he hunt on in the dark?

A pattering of feet and a panting told us the dog was on his way back, and I shone the lamp briefly on my feet to show him the way. His owner made a big fuss of him while we waited for his breathing to return to normal. I had seen another rabbit in a good place, and hoped it was still there.

No, nothing: it must have run in with the others. But a further sweep of the lamp showed a red reflection glinting off another rabbit's eye, and if we could get round between it and the hedge, we would have a run. The wind dropped suddenly, not helping, and our footsteps squelched as we tried to creep around the back of the rabbit. I trod on a fallen branchlet, which broke, and that did not aid our cause either. But as the wind picked up again and I flashed a beam along, I saw our rabbit was still there.

It leaped in the light and the dog sped forward, but the rabbit this time was not fast enough and after two spinning turns in the mud, the dog picked it up, losing his own footing as he did so. He slid on his side but did not let go, and now we had the next test: would he retrieve? He stood up, put the rabbit down to adjust his grip, and then came slowly, hesitantly towards us. All the way up to his owner he came, bringing his first rabbit on the lamp. It was a supreme moment.

Knowing when to stop is an art in many activities. We had achieved success. We would build on this another night. Not needing to be silent any more, we talked and praised and gave the dog pride all the way back to the car.