Brrrrrr!

• A bracing, heart-expanding Autumn evening; I stride briskly to the fields at dusk and sit motionless behind a stile for half an hour. In the distance, I can see scampering brown blobs but, near at hand, nothing stirs.
  

• I get up and walk down the fence line; a cold mist is rising off the fields; it is, I realise, damn cold.

• I shiver and - ninja-like, except for copious nose-blowing and snuff ingestion - continue to edge down the field.

• I shiver more and realise that I am actually on the brink of hypothermia. Striding vigorously about and admiring the Autumn is all well and good, sitting motionless on the ground in a field is another matter entirely.

• Rather than perish in a chilly field I elect to knock hunting on the head and go home to get warm.