Just a few months later in March 2016 - aware we needed to spend more time with Inside Out, not easy as a small team that spans the length and breadth of the country– a last hurrah was suggested at the Belvoir Hunt’s final meet of the season.
Shortly after the huntsman rode out from the west side of the wood with the pack of hounds and I began to film. I then heard a quad bike. Now anyone who knows a thing or two about hunting will know that quad bikes usually signal the mysterious ‘terrier men’.
In traditional fox hunting a hunt would employ one or more terrier men, whose role it was to block fox earths and badger setts before a hunt - to prevent foxes from taking refuge below ground - and to deal with foxes that went to ground during the day’s hunting.
Since the Hunting Act came in, nobody has given a plausible reason as to why hunts continue to employ them, but they are commonly seen – even when hunts claim to be ‘trail’ hunting.
The terrier men’s quad started passing us, with two large boxes front and rear and two riders. They’d almost passed when they stopped sharply – they had recognised Darryl. “You’ve got a nerve showing up here”, said the older man, getting off the quad.
Blood dripping
“You know who I am?”, answered Darryl. We weren’t unduly concerned: there were two of them and two of us. We obviously don’t like to be spotted but sometimes these things happen, and we’ll always attempt to diffuse any situation that unfolds.
Darryl was amicable but the two terrier men were confrontational. “Go get the boys, Tom”, said the older man to his younger colleague. At that point - perhaps, in hindsight - we should have made a swift exit, but we were over a mile from the car and on foot and those who follow hunts are used to such threats so we weren’t too concerned.
The man named Tom took off on the quad while the older man stayed with us. A couple of minutes later he returned followed by a 4x4 with four masked men inside. They attacked Darryl and pushed him over the edge of the escarpment.
The original two terrier men held me and wrestled my camera from my hand. The younger one punched me in the head, while the older one restrained me and then he too pushed me over the escarpment.
The next thing I was aware of was silence – I called to Darryl but no response. I sat up and felt blood dripping down my face. My head was throbbing. Where was Darryl? I couldn’t see him. I called again and nothing.
Beyond repair
I walked across to where I thought he might have landed and saw him lying across some scree, hidden by undergrowth. Thankfully he was conscious. “Are you alright?”, I called. He wasn’t. He had pain in his neck and he couldn’t move his legs.
The next hour involved multiple phone calls for an ambulance, the police, our manager and finally the BBC reporter who was at the hunt. The location was remote.
The police arrived first, they responded quickly and we heard multiple sirens screaming around the area looking for the attackers. It was getting dark and cold by the time Darryl was hoisted into a specialist all-terrain, paramedic’s vehicle.
By the next day the dramatic rescue – filmed by the BBC – had made the national press and the two terrier men had been arrested. My stolen camera was returned by the men’s defence solicitor a few days later but was damaged beyond repair - including the memory card.
Darryl’s camera, which had been in his pocket throughout the incident, had continued to record audio – this went on to form a major part of the evidence against the men.
