I cycled across the expanse of flat low-lying land, which stretches without a field hedge to be seen, between the lane gates at Beck Dairy and Badge Lodge. Ahead of me, the cluster of buildings of Glebe Farm and the start of a steep climb, which leads the eye to the commanding position of Brixham’s great Saxon church at the top, the largest building north of the Alps when first constructed under the Mercian kings.

I came upon first one in isolation, then two together, then clusters of horse boxes and trailers. Then I heard the tell-tale and evocative country sound of the fox hunting horn. Hounds emerged on to the lane ahead of me, followed by the red-coated Huntsman and Whipper-in. Then the hunt as a whole followed, trotting along the lane for a short while, before bursting into the field on my left, released to gallop behind the howling-barking hound pack in pursuit of their quarry. This is Pytchley Hunt Country, and what I saw that day was as traditional a country scene as anyone has witnessed in the last two to three hundred years hereabouts.

I cycled on through Brixham, Scaldwell and Old, to find sanctuary by a field gate on Mill Lane, near Kite’s Hall Farm for my picnic lunch. From the moment I unpacked the saddlebag, I was entertained by a swirling flock of linnets, whilst my bird-call app informed me that fieldfare and redwings were about too, sadly not to be seen from my sunken gateway, yet comforting to know that they were nearby all the same. They will be around for two or three months yet, and I will be back to see them.

© John Dunn.

You may also like to see my YouTube Channel, called Highways and Byways.

https://www.youtube.com/@drjohndunn2898