WARWICKSHIRE, England – The SUV raced along a winding England country road at dawn, five people perched in its masks dressed in head-to-toe black as the hills of the Warwickshire countryside swept past.
Squinting through the glistening windows of the rain, they spotted their target in the distance: hunters riding horses in the grounds of a grand 18th-century estate.
The distant howls of the barking dogs sounded, their cries getting closer and closer.
Suddenly, a pack of hounds of about 20 appeared at the end of the narrow path, followed by dozens of galloping horses, their riders dressed in navy blue coats and cream jodhpurs.
The cry “Go, go, go!” came from the car as the doors flew open and the people in the masks jumped out.
The chase begins: The hunter has become the hunted.
In the muddy fields of England’s rural heartland, a kind of cold war rages. Simply put, the conflict is between those who support fox hunting and those who are against it. But on a deeper level, the dispute reveals class divisions, conflicts between traditions and debates over town and country that still fracture British society.
Although hunting foxes – or any wild mammal – using dogs is outlawed in the UK in 2004“trail hunting,” in which hounds are said to be chasing an artificial scent, is allowed.
Anti-hunting activists say the exemption is a smokescreen and the dogs often kill an actual fox. a murder could be prosecuted if there was evidence that the hunters should have known that the hounds were chasing a living animal and did nothing to stop them. Hundreds of such cases have been reported in the past decade.
Hunters say that they hunt only on private land with farmers’ permission and that they do not kill live animals; they accuse activists of trespassing.
Those operating in the SUV that morning were part of a small group, commonly known as “hunting vandals”, who ventured to Warwickshire, a county in western England, with the intention of intended to disrupt fox hunting, a centuries-old bloody sport in which animals are tracked, chased, and then killed by trained hounds.
At least three times a week, rain or shine, activists chase galloping racers in SUVs and walk through forests and fields, both to film evidence of what the activists are doing. say illegal activity just to do whatever they can to hinder the real hunt.
Turning the tools of the hunters against them, the activists blew their own hunting whistles and whipped their whips in an attempt to confuse the hounds. They also used citronella sprays to mask the fox’s smell and used small amplifiers that emitted the sounds of hounds calling to disturb the pursuing pack. Each activist has a walkie-talkie.
On this occasion, activists targeted the Warwickshire Hunt, founded in 1791 and considered one of Britain’s most prestigious hunting groups.
As she trudged into the chase, Cathy Scott, a 20-year veteran of the group, said: “It’s a war, and it’s a war to be won.”
Activists have spent years harassing hunters. To confuse fox pursuits, they masterfully use their hunting horns and learn dozens of distinctive calls, including the “tallyho” that is shouted when they spot an animal.
Ms. Scott, 46, says: “To fight your enemies, you have to think like them.
Vandals are known to run the risk of serious injury when they rush into the path of sprinting horses to get between them and a fox. Ms. Scott said she was assaulted several times by supporters of the hunt, at least once so badly that she had to be hospitalized.
Death threats are common, she added. Several activists in other vandalism groups, which exist across the UK, reported that their vehicles had been damaged. hit the road. The mutilated foxes were dumped outside the house. Gasoline was poured through the mail slot.
Vandals say the risks are worth it if a fox can escape a gruesome death if hounds catch up with it.
“It was not a quick murder,” Ms Scott said. “It’s brutal. They were torn to pieces.”
To hunters, saboteurs are “rural terrorists” threatening a long tradition of pursuing a class-driven revenge.
“They simply don’t like us,” said Sam Butler, 65, president of Warwickshire Hunt.
“They don’t like what we represent,” he added. “It’s payback time for this, that, and that. Knock the toffs. Knock the Tories. Red-faced gentlemen in red coats riding horses, that sort of thing.”
He suggests that the vandals aren’t really motivated by concern for the fox. “This is always about political bias,” he said.
Hunting saboteurs – a term activists use – say they are wildlife lovers, driven to be wary of government indifference. Ms. Scott works in customer service. Another member, Dave Graham, 37 years old, works in online retail. The group’s driver, Martina Irwin, 56, runs a small bakery.
“We are just ordinary people with normal circumstances,” said Miss Irwin, pushing her frosted glasses up to the bridge of her nose. “The state won’t stop them, so we have to.”
For activists as well as hunters, this is also a propaganda war – a war for hearts and minds. Video cameras are everywhere, some used by activists, some carried by hunters.
As one of the hunters galloped past, she yelled at Mr. Graham: “You’re trespassing! Don’t film my kids!”
Unfazed, he used a handheld camcorder to zoom in on a group of hunters standing nearby on the windy hillside. Without a word, they turned the phone toward him, recording the tape recorder.
Video clips of the confrontation were uploaded to social media accounts with tens of thousands of followers.
“Cameras were the most effective tool after the ban,” said Mr. Graham, referring to the 2004 ban. Vandals turned over footage to law enforcement in the hope of prompting prosecutions. (Even videos can be controversial. Two years ago, Mr. Graham was found guilty of perverting the course of justice and received a suspended sentence for showing fake footage of a member of another manhunt. attack him to make it seem even though he has been attacked many times.)
Confrontations are mirror-like, with hunters tracking the vandals as they track down the hunters. There was also a familiarity: That morning, a member of the hunting team, not riding a horse but a quad bike, was broadcasting in the position of the activists.
“You’re trespassing, Cathy!” he shouted at Miss Scott.
“How did you know my name?” she shouted back.
“Everybody here knows your name, Cathy,” he replied. “You are so popular!”
Hunters often refer to activists as “towners,” accusing them of naivete about the importance of hunting to rural communities. Activists argue that fox hunting implies the blatant “mafia mentality” of Britain’s upper class.
Miss Irwin, the bakery owner, emphasizes that tension. “I grew up on a council estate,” she said. “Here, it’s about privilege. They have wealth. Everything they will need. They call us poor, but the countryside is a waste for the people who live here.”
The opposition Labor Party has vowed to scrap the “trail hunting” immunity if it wins the next general election. Another hunting group in the area, Atherstone Hunt, has been shut down, due in part to activist efforts.
“It shows what a small group of working-class people can do,” Ms. Scott said. “It really is a dying sport. There will come a time when this will go away.”
As it got dark, Miss Irwin got into the SUV and the vandals rushed in. “Are they good today?” she asked, referring to the hunters.
“No foxes today,” replied Mr. Graham.
