I shoot, I gut, I butcher. I raise animals and I'm OK with killing them. So it should come as no surprise that I like Hunting. And when I say Hunting with a capital H, and because I am, at least technically English, I mean Fox Hunting.

Fox Hunting is not a sport, but an integral part of the culture of the countryside where I'm from. Contrary to popular belief not everyone who rides in a hunt or supports it is rich, or a landowner, or votes Conservative. There are a lot of people poorer than me, some richer. A lot of people far less educated than me, many differently educated than me, some who make me feel stupid - and not just because of their attitudes. I've meet some wonderful, kind, empathic people through the Hunt, and some who are utter dick heads.

Because it is a cultural landmark of many, many people. The social-media sphere of the morally 'correct' would have everyone believe that everyone who supports Hunting is a murderer, an evil person who cares nothing for the land, the animals, the foxes. And yet they could not be more wrong.

Foxes are beautiful, glorious, cunning, irritating and essential creatures. But we took away their top predator, and they have no direct competition, and the weather is generally mild in our land. Foxes can decimate livestock: chickens, ducks, young lambs in the field, and there is only so much fences and gates can do. The hunting ban came into force 11 years ago, and since then drag hunts are the norm. People say we shouldn't bother anymore, but the hounds need to run, and the mere presence of Huntsmen, horses, and dogs in the fields wards off the fox and his wiles. After the hunt has come through, we won't see hide nor hair of a fox for weeks.

Today, I took our 14 months old Goblin boy to his very first Hunt meet. It was lovely, the horses shone, the Huntmaster smiled and waved, people cheered. A very VERY large and friendly foxhound came to sniff at Dashi, then the buggy, then rested his chin next to Goblin's face and my son stared and giggled at him. It was a beautiful moment, I wish I had pictures. I have every faith that big, unfamiliar, and fluffy dog would have posed no risk to my little boy at all. Dashi was rather in-awe of him.

Long may we continue to see the horses ride out in their splendour with the baying of the hounds. One day my son might ride with them.