THE dictionary definition of compassion is 'pity, inclining one to spare or succour'. We, the British are a most compassionate race — especially regarding animals. Indeed, it is perhaps significant that the major societies dedicated to the prevention of cruelty to animals and birds — and their preservation — are 'royal', whilst that concerning child protection is, merely, 'national'. And, on the former front, charities and sanctuaries abound for such animals as donkeys, ponies, cats, dogs, otters and so forth, plus there are groups dedicated to the defence of the vulnerable like hedgehogs and dormice: there are the likes of 'the people's dispensary for sick animals', who do so much for wildlife and for pets whose owners are of limited means. There are committed men and women ever willing to deal with minor problems ranging from an injured pony on a Dartmoor road to a major oil spillage in which numerous seabirds face a painful death. Beyond pets and wildlife, farm animals in Britain also enjoy, generally speaking, welfare standards arguably the highest in the world, with those few farmers cruel or uncaring regarding their stock, usually ending up in court. In the past couple of decades much has been enshrined into law to abolish the cruelties of 'factory farming', to curtail the live export of animals to the continent, and other unacceptable practices; much credit here is due to pressure groups, and to responsible successive governments, of varying political persuasion. Unfortunately, whilst the bulk of this nation is imbued with compassion, there are sizeable numbers of prisoners of an emotion which can be destructive and unfair. The dictionary describes it as being 'swayed or dictated by shallow emotion'; sentimentality is the word described — and the nobility of compassion is so often undermined by it. What is it other than mindless sentiment which will cause numbers of people to fight for the life of a single badger, even if it means the slaughter of scores of fine bovines, many in the prime of life. I have my personal experience of this; my parents were farmers, and about 50 years ago tuberculosis was found amongst their cows; a small herd of about 20. Each milker had her own name — as was the custom with most herds locally, in that era of small farms. A vet came, found that 15 of the beasts were contaminated — and put them down. It was the only occasion ever I saw my father cry! These days with, generally, far larger herds, scores — sometimes hundreds — are slaughtered en-masse yet it would appear there are some folk who believe the life of a solitary badger is worth such carnage. And then — there are foxes. Few issues of recent times have generated debate — much of it bitter — than fox hunting. It came to a head at Westminster a decade or so ago when after something like 100 hours of debate over many months, much, it is said, concerned with blatant political point scoring rather than the welfare of 'Reynard', hunting with dogs was banned. I do not propose to go into fox hunting — a complex and emotive business to say the least — but I would make a brief comment on the nature of the fox. Granted, in many ways, a rather striking looking creature, with its bright colouring and bushy tail, it is in terms of character — a 'serial killer'. If it gets amongst hens it will kill and mutilate all it can get hold of, then take just one for food. They will attack and kill cats and other small pets — and there have been times, very recently in urban situations, when they have savaged small babies. Yet amongst so many folk they still get a 'good press' — still are look upon affectionately. In reality, the much maligned rat does far less harm than the 'cuddly' fox — yet who would 'man the barricades' in defence of this despised rodent; sentimentality — a curse is it not?