The fox is a fine, healthy thing of beauty — why would we rip her to shreds?
The red fox / sionnach / Vulpes vulpes is highly adaptable and can be found in various habitats, including urban areas
I woke up with a heavy sense of despondency this morning, the kind that manifests both physically and mentally. A deep sadness coursed through me, weighing down my mind and my limbs alike.
My legs felt like tree trunks, my arms like great branches. My mind was a dense, cloudy porridge, burdensome and stuck. Outside, wind-driven rain lashed the windows. I could hear it pelting against the glass. A peek under the curtains revealed a dreary world beneath an all-encompassing dark grey winter sky. It reflected exactly how I felt. But I knew this was no good. So I dragged myself into the day, hoping I would find some way to ease it all.
The recent overwhelming defeat of the bill to ban the more particularly abhorrent forms of fox hunting was a real blow, to me, and to many others.
But it was the scale of the loss that genuinely shocked me. 24 votes in favour. 124 against.
However, I strongly suspect that these figures do not fully reflect the real truth, as party members were required to follow party whips to keep views in line. This made the defeat appear far more decisive than it may have been had members been allowed to vote freely, as many believe a democratic process should allow.
Why have a vote at all if members are not free to follow their own judgement?
A recent Ireland Thinks poll found that 72% of people believe fox hunting as a sport should be banned in Ireland. The result of the vote, then, does not appear to reflect public opinion.
Why was there such a stark contrast? Why were party leaders unwilling to allow free votes? This raises difficult questions about whose interests are prioritised in decisions like this.
It also made me ponder all day as to why they were so adamant that this bill does not make it through. The argument for so called 'vermin control' is redundant as hunts are an elaborate event with peacocking riders, and a drawn-out cruel death to the fox. If it truly were about fox control, it would be fast, efficient and cost-effective.
This is something more — why go to such efforts to kill a fox? These people must enjoy it and they must benefit from it.
A 1998 UCD report concluded that mounted fox hunting contributed €80 million to the Irish economy. That figure is likely far higher today when inflation is taken into account. Money circulates through hunt subscriptions, the sale of horses and services, and through local economies via hotels, tack shops, feed merchants, and more.
What many people find particularly troubling, especially given that 72% support an outright ban, is that taxpayer money continues to be directed to hunts through Horse Racing Ireland grants, amounting to millions over the last decade alone. This means public funds are being used to support an activity that a large majority of the public opposes, often without being fully aware that their taxes are contributing to it. To me, this feels deeply disrespectful and undemocratic.
And these kinds of actions are not happening in isolation. This same government has, in my experience, taken much from people in other ways too.
I write these words as I sit in an a cold, damp, overpriced rental home, with a roof that has leaked each winter for the past three years, a back door that is rotting and lets both water and wind in beneath it, black mould that creeps along the ceilings and walls, and an absentee landlord I have never met. A landlord who only ever messages me to increase the rent each year. A landlord who has shown no interest in spending money to maintain the house to basic living standards.
Yet I am expected to be grateful, because finding anywhere else would mean paying far more, all while trying to save for a home, a goal that may never be within reach for me or many of my peers. I am living through the housing crisis they have helped create, feeling its weight daily, like so many others.
I did everything 'right'. I worked from the day I could earn money. I studied hard, worked hard, saved my money. And still I now face a future where my family and I may be without a home. Why is this the case? Because the same Government has introduced legislation allowing landlords to raise rents on new tenancies to market value from March 1, 2026 — a change widely expected to contribute to a surge in evictions in the lead-up. This is the same Government presiding over record homelessness, record house prices, and record rents.
Let us also not forget that from 2026, Ireland will be the only country in Europe with an active nitrates derogation, a policy many environmentalists view as effectively allowing further pollution of waterways in pursuit of increased agricultural output. This is an enormous weight to carry in a country with an already abysmal record for nature, one of the worst in Europe. So, as someone who loves nature, and as someone who needs a place to live, the defeat of this fox hunting bill was a blow too many. This is the weight I woke with.
It sat with me all day, a loss that drained the life out of everything. What kind of world are we really living in? Human-inflicted suffering is everywhere, in our own lives and in the lives of others, delivered relentlessly through daily media. It feels as though the darkness is at a peak, sometimes too vast to comprehend. I try to enact the changes I believe are right, but at times I feel like a small gnome shouting into a gusting, raging storm, clinging on desperately for grip. I swallowed it down, took a deep breath, and did my best to carry on through the day.
After dark, I went for a walk along the seafront in Cobh. The sea has a way of winning my mind back from the worst of it, and that was just the call.
On my return, I walked up the hill from the water’s edge along a narrow one-way road I have walked since childhood, heavy with fond memories. A leafy suburb bordered by an archway of tall trees, meeting overhead. Large wooden doors break the wall to my right, and behind them lie generous gardens. And that is where I saw her.
She darted across the road, lit by the yellow glow of the old sodium vapour lamps cutting through the darkness. She was in no rush. She jumped onto the wall and walked towards me, shimmying along the upright capping stones in a low, deliberate crouch, head on. It lasted no more than 30 seconds, but it felt like minutes.
The sight of her fiery red coat and bright, bushy, white-tipped tail sent a surge of warm adrenaline through me. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. She stopped and looked me directly in the eye. No panic or unease. Just a steady, prolonged gaze. She was a fine, healthy thing of beauty. Her coat shone, dense and full. Her amber eyes glowed, cleanly set in a ring of black. A creature of utter perfection.
Joy spilled out of me in a whispered hush of celebration: “oh my god, wowww”.
I had never seen one at this particular spot before, and with everything weighing on my mind, it felt like a very definite message. From her. From Mother Nature. Just when I needed it — when the build-up of burdens felt close to crushing my spirit.
In that all-too-brief moment of watching her, my thoughts flickered between wonder and disbelief.
How could anyone allow such majestic beings be chased and violently killed for 'sport'? How could so many of our elected representatives, including those responsible for nature policy, continue to condone this activity?
I once had the misfortune of encountering a hunt on lands near me while I was conducting a bird survey in rural North Cork. The sound of the blood-lusting hounds baying and the horns of the huntsmen was deeply unsettling. I hurriedly began to pack my things, unable to bear witness to what might follow. As I left, I passed recently arrived onlookers, cars erratically parked in ditches and gateways with binoculars around their necks, visibly excited by what was unfolding. The enthusiasm on their faces left a lasting impression on me.
I will never understand those who take part in this, or who support it. To inflict such suffering on an animal feels to me profoundly wrong, an unfathomable act. I could never do it, no matter the incentive, nor would I want to.
Despite these memories, it was the sight of that beautiful vixen, looking me right in the eye, that stayed with me through the night. A creature that would never do me any harm. A being forced to move through shadows in what should be her own home. Our native canine, still living with the legacy of a cruel tradition introduced under English colonial rule but now continued by our own.
This practice first took hold in my own county of Cork, with the establishment of the Duhallow Hunt in 1745 — and it's a legacy that should have been left in that century.
There is a bitter irony in this. During the War of Independence, hunts were disrupted by Sinn Féin as acts of resistance against British rule. Yet today, the very same party has voted to allow the practice to continue.
To all of you who voted this down: you do not represent me.
And I believe many say the same. We cannot and will not let this be the end. This is what we are fighting for. For that fox. For the right of native wildlife to exist without terror, without cruelty masquerading as tradition. Some may see the defeat of this bill as a victory. They may laugh and sneer now, but they cannot keep the good fight down forever. It will return, and more and more people will join.
There is a rising cry for a return of nature in Ireland. I have seen it firsthand through a year of sold out talks, filled with people eager to hear stories and sounds of the Irish natural world. This is something our politicians should be acutely aware of. For many of you, votes, power, and career advancement appear to be paramount. Let this be a reminder that nature, too, demands representation.
A very large proportion of us want and need a healthy, nature-filled Ireland, and many of us are willing to dedicate our lives to making this happen. We’re not going away.
Most people want the good, simple things in life. A healthy, thriving planet. A place to live that will not drain us for the entirety of our lives.
Clean, clear water instead of polluted rivers.
Rich, diverse, nature-filled spaces where we can walk in peace, without fear of speeding traffic.
We want birdsong that tells our nervous systems the land around us is safe and alive.
We want a world where animals and people are treated with dignity and respect, not as commodities to be exploited for money and gain.
The only people who do not want these things are those who have lost sight of empathy. Those who can never have enough, who will step on anyone or anything in pursuit of endless gain, while the rest of us suffer the consequences.
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