Meathman's Diary: A disturbing walk on the sacred Hill

It was a day off for me, a day to relax, the last day of January.

So I did as I often do - I went for a walk on the Hill of Tara. The former home of the high Kings of Ireland is a beautiful place for a stroll. A place where you can get a sense of the beauty of nature. The views over Meath and beyond never fail to captivate, winter or summer. For many it's a very significant spiritual place. A holy place.

As I walked on my own through the small wood located at the edge of the the Hill I was somewhat startled to hear, up in the distance, the sound of hounds; their shrill barks echoing through the leafless trees. There was a hunt in progress. That was confirmed for me when I then heard the even shriller sound of the huntsman's bugle.

I could see the lead huntsman in his red coat on his gleaming, majestic looking horse at the edge of the wood. A noble-looking figure in his red coat on an unpleasant assignment, at least to me. In the neighbouring field the rest of the hunt waited on their horses in their black jackets.

Sure enough it wasn't long until I was met, going in the opposite direction, by a hound bounding along the the little track that cuts through the wood within he Hill's boundary. It wasn't interested in me. It sped past on a its mission. A big, muscular, super fast animal. A killing machine on the move. He was quickly followed by another hound, then another.

They had clearly picked up the scent of a of fox. I walked on further and came to a series of burrows I had passed many times before - and which I shortly afterwards discovered was the fox's home.

As I stood there the fox suddenly appeared out of the undergrowth. He was looking to get back into one of the burrows; a refuge from the gathering storm.

For a about two or three seconds it stood at the covered entrance. We looked at each other. Both of us transfixed. It was a beautiful animal. Amazingly, it didn't look flustured or panicked. It had clearly shaken off the hounds and cut back up the wood - but it wasn't long before the hounds picked up the scent again.

Realising there was perhaps no refuge to be had in his burrow the fox took off. It played the last card it had left. It broke cover and went at full tilt into a nearby field, outside the boundaries of the Hill. The rest of the hunt was soon in pursuit. The hounds chased after it. The dogs barked, the bugle sounded. There were shouts and roars.

The chase, came to an end at the far corner of the neighbouring field when the huntspeople in black stood around on their horses. The sound of the hounds was stilled. Did the hunt concluded, as many do, with the fox getting cornered, pulled apart by the hounds? Death in the afternoon or did it get away?

I can't say for certain but it was a profoundly disturbing, unpleasant experience, especially in a place of beauty many regard as a deeply spiritual site. A place where kings once called their home.