THE NAKED CITY – TALLY HO AND OFF THEY GO!
Oscar Wilde described it as “the unspeakable in pursuit of the inedible”. Traditional fox hunting involving horses, riders and packs of blood thirsty hounds is considered barbaric these days – but is it ready for a much needed renaissance?
Maybe it is, if you believe recent newspaper reports that a plague of foxes has beset the Eastern and Southern suburbs of Sydney, savaging chickens, terrorizing native fauna and generally freaking out the landed gentry. The move is now on for Councils and residents alike to confront this feral menace, recording their movements on a dedicated website called Foxscan and eventually driving them from the urban landscape.
Considering the success rate in controlling other feral critters like cats, the prospects of ridding the burbs of the elusive and innately cunning red fox seem rather dim. Foxes were first introduced into mainland Australia around the 1870s, some say as early as 1833 in Tasmania. They were brought here primarily by hunters, no doubt homesick for a bit of good old English bloodsport. Today we are lumped with numbers approaching seven million, and it’s not surprising they have migrated from the rural to the built up urban areas.
These days traditional fox hunts still take place in many parts of the world, but often a lure is substituted for the live animal. Live fox hunting has been banned in the UK since 2005, following years of protests, but still survives in parts of Australia, especially Victoria where hunt clubs supposedly dispose of about 650 foxes a year.
It might seem outrageous to some, but perhaps Sydney should consider a traditional fox hunt (possibly the last one ever), staged as a NSW ‘big event’ complete with the blessing of the State Government. Mike Baird has always dreamed of a formula one grand prix race across the Harbour Bridge, but why not a fox hunt instead?
The event would not only draw attention to the problem of feral foxes in suburban Sydney, but create a spectacle worthy of Cecil B DeMille. Hundreds of riders, horses and bloodhounds would take part, pursuing the hapless fox from North Sydney to Watsons Bay. The route would cut a swathe through the CBD, down through the Domain and into the mean streets of Woolloomooloo. Tally ho – away we go, up the Brougham street rat run into William Street and onwards towards Double Bay, trampling anything in its way.
Thousands would line the roadside, equally divided in their support for either the fox or the furious hunting posse of hounds and horses. No doubt there would be animal rights protestors, but their presence would only add to the spectacle with choppers hovering above to film this historic and appropriately symbolic occasion. Yes, it would be Australia’s way of saying “we are not going to let feral animals get the better of us, be they cats, camels or foxes – long live the potoroo and bugger the wild dog!”
Of course we would love to see the newly anointed Malcolm Turnbull, regardless of his equestrian ability, lead the charge of wily foxhunters, aristocratically resplendent in top hat and red coat. As the yapping, salivating pack of hounds closed in on the now exhausted fox, Turnbull could heroically intervene, snatching the trembling animal from the jaws of death and later having it compassionately euthanized.
The great fox hunt would come to a politically correct (albeit somewhat anti-climactic) end. No blood would be spilled and no animals would be harmed in the making of this epic, apart from the odd ibis trampled beyond recognition in the Domain. Hopefully the fox population of Sydney would then take the hint and return to the more rural areas to join their brethren cats, camels, water buffaloes and cane toads. In the meantime if you spot a sneaky fox in your hood, do your bit for the local fauna and let the authorities know at feralscan.org.au/foxscan/
By Coffin Ed, Jay Katz and Miss Death
