Things That Go Bum In The Night..................

[Traditionalist]

Thinking back about the incident with the owl, reminded me of another rather sobering experience on the North York Moors at black of night.

For some years I had been quite friendly with a couple of the water bailiffs on the Esk, and got to know them fairly well. At the time under discussion, there was a considerable problem with poachers. They invariably avoided the main river, but came along in various motor vehicles on dark nights, and netted out the feeder becks. Some huge hauls of salmon and seatrout were made in this way, and the thieves were quite unscrupulous, indeed, often "armed and dangerous", as they say.

Several of the regular anglers/members, on a particular stretch, a number of whom lived in the same village, were asked if they would care to take part in a "poacher patrol", as one particular feeder beck, quite close to a road, was teeming with fish, and we were due for a period of very dark nights. Quite a few of the anglers agreed, as did I, and we all arrived at the chief bailiffs house at about eight o?clock in the evening, were carefully instructed as to our various posts and duties, warned several times as to the dangers involved, not to take any risks, to follow instructions to the letter, and the pressing need for stealth, issued with powerful torches, heavy sticks, flasks of tea and sandwiches, and then dropped off at various points along the stream, to lurk hidden and quiet in the bushes, at our appointed posts, and await developments.

For what seemed like eternity, nothing untoward occurred, and then I was almost frightened to death, as one of the guys crept up to my post just after midnight, and almost out of breath, gaspingly whispered something. So shocked was I, and at that precise moment regretting somewhat not having had the foresight to bring any toilet  paper along, that I had to ask him twice before I understood what he was trying to tell me.

Apparently one of the lads had heard a large gang of poachers pulling up in a truck or something similar, the truck had immediately doused its lights, and the bailiff, upon being informed of this, had immediately sent out runners to gather in his forces, his intention being to surround the gang, and surprise them, in the hope of avoiding a fight, and at the same time catching them red-handed with their nets.

About twenty of us gathered,  remarkably quickly, well organised and quiet, at the base of a small hill, topped by a hedge adjoining the road.

The tension was palpable, and doubtless many a pulse was beating a damn sight faster than normal. We could not see each other in the pitch blackness, but we could "feel" our neighbours, and almost smell the excitement laced with fear, everybody was keyed up to a very high pitch.

Our instructions were issued quickly and clearly, on seeing a single flash of light from the bailiff?s lamp, we were to rush up the hill, circumvent the hedge, form a half circle, and turn on our powerful torches to blind the poachers, start shouting, or blowing our whistles if we had them, and at the same time keeping our sticks ready for any which might try to make a break for it. Two of the bailiffs were armed with shotguns, and it was hoped that this would suffice to ensure our safety should it indeed come to a pitched battle.

Once again we waited in tense silence,  hardly daring to breathe, and then at last, shockingly sudden, and frightening in its intensity,  a single flash of light briefly split the blackness before us. Half blinded by this, we rushed up the hill, ran around the hedge and turned on our powerful torches, raised our sticks, and at the same time began yelling at the tops of our voices.

A shotgun blast split the pitch black, and up to that point completely peaceful night, with a sheet of flame, and a roaring echoing report that sounded like the last trump, and then pandemonium broke loose.

Doubtless there is not a man among us who will ever forget the sight which met our eyes to his dying day. We were rewarded for our Herculean efforts, by the incredible and mortifying vision, of approximately twenty, very pale raised naked female posteriors, engaged in the act of urinating beside the hedge.

Sheer unadulterated panic broke out!  Several of the women, presumably frightened beyond all comprehension, jumped into the hedge, while attempting, mostly unsuccessfully, to pull up their knickers, several rolled through the hedge and down the hill, still holding grimly and rather incongruously, onto their clothing.  Quite a few wet themselves as they jumped up, several jumped up, and then immediately fell down again, as their various articles of clothing impeded their flight, and nearly all of them started screaming like a horde of furious banshees, although at least two fainted on the spot, and just sagged to the ground.  Strangely enough, nobody had the presence of mind to turn off the lights, although we all stopped shouting almost immediately. The cacophony from the terrified women was simply indescribable, and lasted for an age.

After a while, I have no idea how long, it was probably quite a short time, but it did not seem so at the time,  the noise began to fade somewhat, and then, just at this moment, storming up the road behind us, brandishing a tyre lever, and yelling like a maniac, came the astonishingly courageous, if somewhat foolhardy coach driver, who had pulled off the road, and doused his lights, in order  to allow his bus-load of lady passengers a toilet break, on the way home from a day trip to the seaside, and had not the faintest idea of what the hell was going on.

In the confusion and excitement,  another shotgun blast lit the scene behind us, the scene before us being already clearer than a football game under floodlights. At the risk of considerable danger to life and limb, a bailiff and a couple of the lads managed to stop and disarm the completely berserk driver, before he could bash anybody's head in with the implement, and several sharp blasts on the bailiffs police whistle seemed to calm things down a bit, and the lads either turned off their torches one by one, or at least directed them elsewhere.

Almost an hour was required to restore some sort of order, find a couple of the women who had run off into the darkness, and issue the necessary reassurances to the unfortunate women and the driver, and explain the whole thing.  In the meantime a police car and an ambulance had arrived, summoned apparently by someone from a village not far away, who had been informed of the "poacher patrol", and had heard the gunshots and screaming, and immediately called the police.

Several of the women were in a state of shock, and one of those who had fainted was carted off to hospital in the ambulance, as she had not recovered consciousness. Most of them were uncomfortable and distressed as well, being as it were,  rather "damp", if not worse, and of course unable to change clothes or anything like that, and some had nasty scratches from jumping through the hedge and falling down the hill.  No serious injuries were discovered.

We did what we could, offering tea and sandwiches, of which we had plenty, and the ambulance driver gave out a small stack of blankets before he left with his passenger.

Eventually the situation calmed down, and soon after that,  the coach set off with its load of extremely chastened passengers minus one, leaving behind a completely embarrassed and disenchanted group of "poacher patrollers", who finally made their weary way back to the village, disbanded with very little comment, and went their separate ways.

As far as I know, none of the volunteers excepting myself ever took part in another "poacher patrol", although the bailiffs would of course be bound to.  About ten years ago, when I visited England, and the village near where all this occurred, I met a couple of the lads in the local pub, although some have in the meantime died, and others have moved away, there are still a couple left.

Although the village was abuzz for a long time after the incident, none of the names of those who actually took part was ever made known, although I have it on impeccable authority, that on several occasions when the affair was discussed in the pub, that some  people left very hurriedly when references to "The Great Piss Patrol",  and similar unfortunate epithets were bandied about.

The moral?   Oh I don?t really know, pick one you fancy. Perhaps, "Blessed is he who expecteth nothing, for rarely will he be disappointed", or "look before you leap", are as good as any.

TL
MC

[haresear]

I very nearly wet myself reading that Mike. Hilarious :lol:

Alex

[aliferste]

Fantastic !