ITS VIVID red fur flashes across the road; in the near distance a hunting horn sounds.

The fox passing us takes a glance before slipping under a gate and disappearing into the next field.

Soon a pack of hounds barking and panting in hot pursuit will descend upon it.

In their wake will come the remaining diehard riders of the Four Burrow Hunt still on the chase, a tumult of equine and canine muscle and sinew closing in for the kill.

Only the dogs do not appear and neither do the huntsmen – even though they are not far away.

For although they are out hunting their 'sport' is, to put it mildly, a little less lively.

In the five years since it was banned members have had to content themselves chasing artificial trails, more of which later.

It is 8.30am on a glorious October Saturday and the early morning sun has yet to warm the earth. As the trailers pull into position in a small leaf-strewn car park on the edge of woods near Ladock, a hive of activity busies itself.

The riders sitting atop their chestnuts, greys, tans and bays are a jolly bunch, greeting each other with hearty hellos.

Their ages – like their sizes – vary enormously. The youngest is seven, the eldest, Trevor Burley, a semi-retired farmer from St Allen, 66 – now on his 57th season.

And somewhere in all this am I. Such is the contentious nature of hunting – even now – that for once I will declare an interest. Or rather a lack of it. Pre-ban it never entered my radar, post-ban ditto.

If it wasn't for a mild journalistic interest I would probably still be at home nursing a hangover, staring listlessly at a bowl of congealing Bran Flakes.

Instead I am watching this spectacle unfold. And whatever the rights or wrongs it is a brilliant countryside spectacle.

The Four Burrow – which covers a vast area from the west of Padstow to east of Camborne and has around 100 riders, plus more as car members – meets three times a week during the season, which begins on the first Saturday of November.

For now they are "cubbing", training the puppies and first time horses – as well as some of the riders themselves.

My guide for the day is Harold Semmens, a farmer and former hunter who these days follows in his old Land Rover.

Foxes, he explains, have no natural enemies. They are omnivores, who eat mice and voles as well as slugs. They also have a fondness for chickens and, he says, young lambs.

Mr Semmens continues: "They get mange, which is a parasitic illness. They get itchy and it makes them lose their hair and their skin goes scaly, it's a horrible disease.

"Hunting used to get the old and lame foxes, they're the ones that go for the chickens.

"But since the ban their numbers are controlled by shooting them. And with the guns you have now you can take out a lot of them in a day.

"And if you only wound it instead of killing it outright they will contract gangrene."

While indeed this makes sense, it is an argument that is being heavily pushed by the hunting lobby.

However, they play down the recent attack by a fox on a baby asleep in its cot in London, it being a freak event far beyond a fox's normal behaviour.

Joint master Paul Hancock gives his explanation as to why the ban will eventually be overturned: "The people of England do not like seeing another group being bullied."

And Tony Blumenau, another joint master of the hunt, explained its enduring appeal: "It's good fun and, as an equestrian sport, it's good exercise."

If the outright anger at the ban has largely subsided, there remains a lament in their voices when they speak of it. But the resentment remains towards former PM Tony Blair who, they believe, offered up the ban as a sop to Labour backbenchers to head off a major rebellion over Iraq.

Mr Burley, meanwhile, said the hunt has been through many threats in the past: "It's survived two world wars, the railways and the motorways. You look at the motorways, they're all through someone's hunt country.

"We don't have any motorways in Cornwall but there is the A30, which is very busy.

"Hunts have been adapting to change for the past 100 years. We're a very resilient community.

"This is a bit artificial when you have hunted properly but you've got to make the best of a bad job."

The job – today – involves a trail leader heading off, riding crop in hand, leaving a scent for the hounds to chase. The scent is fox urine – a foul smelling substance.

The masters head off with the hounds in search of the trail. And we wait ...

In fact, we have to wait and wait ... finding the trail, it seems, isn't all that easy, even with 200 years of history behind them.

Then there is a rumour that the trail has been found. Everyone heads to another field. There's lots of galloping hither and thither but no, it's not true.

We wait in the field, the horses, the cars, the walking spectators. And then they are off again, disappearing into dense woodland owned by the Duchy.

Someone explains this is all about training.

For the followers it is as much a hunt to find the hunt as for the hunters to find the trail. There is much driving down narrow country roads, the occasional glimpse of a rider between the trees.

Essential

Ahead of them is Keith Long, a mobile slaughterman, who, on a Honda Trail motorbike, opens the gates. Jumping is no longer an essential part of this pursuit.

Although they would be loathe to admit it the ban has brought some positives for the sport.

Numbers have remained constant – indeed perhaps even given a lift by the publicity. And taking the 'blood' out of the sport has attracted a tiny number of new followers, who would previously have been against it.

Gone ,too, are the hunt saboteurs who, claim the supporters, would loosen wheel nuts of trailers, throw away the keys of followers' cars and beat up members.

And the League Against Cruel Sports continues fighting the cause, arguing the hunts are responsible for spreading Phytophthora ramorum – the disease which is taking its toll on the South West's woods.

The hunt has also become more relaxed and keen to engage the public, perhaps as a result of the receding threat from hunt saboteurs but, more likely, an understanding that if the law is to be successfully repealed they will have to rely as much on public opinion than on one, largely supportive, Government.

In short they have become PR-friendly by necessity if not desire.

They are keen to do away with the elitist tag that has been levelled at the sport by its detractors. They reel off the jobs of their members. Farmers, council workers, teachers, student farriers, butchers and retail workers.

And up to a point it is fair enough, they are indeed an open, friendly bunch, there was no trace of snobbery and the only looking down was literal, from atop a horse.

But make no mistake, it is not some cheap hobby. Aside from the cost of keeping the horses themselves and the tack, there are the annual fees of £450 and a dress code to maintain: a smart hacking jacket – known as a rat catcher – the fawn jodhpurs, black riding boots, shirt and tie and, of course, a riding helmet.

Even among the hunting fraternity, eBay – the auction website – has become the outlet of choice.

But if it is elitist it is no more so than that of the average Premiership season ticket holder. And no one complains about snobbery in the stands.

They also have their own language. Not dogs but hounds, actually English foxhounds, which come in a brace and they talk, not bark or yap. The puppies are called cubs. Even the foxes get their own name, becoming Marys or Charlies.

For their part the Four Burrow Hunt is attempting to positively encourage membership. Its website is informative, explaining in a relaxed manner the etiquette and rules.

They hold regular events to raise money for – among other things – the Cornwall Air Ambulance and it's as much a social event as a sporting one.

So, what to make of it? The bracing morning cold has given way to a warm autumnal day, as the final hunters pack up. And I head for home.

Mark Twain once said: "Golf is a good walk spoilt." And it's tempting to add that so is hunting. Without a guide I'd have been lost but, with enjoyable company, it was an interesting experience.

But I'm left wondering what the odds are of seeing a fox like that crossing our paths.