Foot and mouth disease affected practically everyone in this Country, but for those living on farms, but not farming, the problems were particularly difficult.

Not least of these problems was how to exercise dogs. Our dog Pompey was lucky compared with many others. She was allowed on those parts of the farm where stock was not grazing, provided she never went off the farm. It would have been easier if we could explain all this to her, but although not unintelligent she was puzzled. To see her delight when finally restrictions were lifted and she could run free on the Downs was a great joy that we shared.

However for about nine months we were restricted to the woodland areas of the farm. The effect for Pompey and me was that there were only about two or three routes that we plodded along every day. The one we both liked best involved climbing up through coppiced trees to the top of a rocky scar. At the summit there was a convenient outcrop of rock on which I could sit looking down a steeply sloping path to the river meadows. Pompey liked it because she could sit by me and look down the grassy path to an open space at the bottom where there were rabbits, sometimes squirrels and occasionally a badger to be seen. We used to sit there for a few minutes and I would doze while Pompey did what we call 'eyeball hunting'. Most of our dogs have done it when they get too old to go rushing after creatures that could easily out-run them or climb up trees.

I was sitting there one day when I became aware that someone was plodding up the grassy path towards me. Although the person was some way from me I would have expected Pompey to rush down to investigate, but apart from a gentle tail-wag she remained close. Oddly, I thought I could see the rabbits still playing about where the newcomer must have walked.

By now I could see more clearly that it was certainly male, dressed in slightly dated clothing. A pudding basin rural sort of hat, and ancient farm labourers smock, breeches and quite light leather shoes that turned up at the toes. Now I could see that his face was split into a huge grin, and his eyes peering between the crinkles created by the grin were extraordinarily compelling.

I guessed immediately who he was. "Mr Puck", of course, written by Rudyard Kipling in his stories contained in the book "Puck of Pookis Hill".

"You must be Mr Puck" I said, to which he replied "And you are Mr Dennis. Congratulations Mr Dennis on being selected to be allowed to see us". He went on to say, "I know it sounds very strange to you, but we have had this ability for very many years. We can make ourselves visible or invisible to humans. It is the only reason we have been able to survive and we use the power very carefully".

Naturally I was rather taken-aback by this extraordinary introduction. "But I thought you lived down in the South according to Rudyard Kipling" I said "I did" he replied "but there are now too many of you people down there and most of the Little People have moved north. There are some left there but they very rarely show themselves".

"But how do you do it" I asked. Mr Puck's smile seemed to increase if that were possible. "Now you mustn't expect me to give away our most cherished secret. I hope we are going to meet like this quite often, but there will be a lot of things I cannot tell you. I can say that a lot of time, discussion and thought has gone into the decision to allow me to show myself to you. Pompey has always been able to see me. To that comment Pompey's tail gave several confirmatory wags.

"But who makes this decision and on what grounds?" I asked. "Now that is a very large question and it would take all day to answer. It is not just us, the Little People, who are involved, but the animals, birds' even fish and bees all come into it. One thing you will find is that no other human will ever confess to being one of those to whom we sometimes appear. There is one thing I can say that may please you. In your case the opinion of the animals was so overwhelming that there was never any doubt about our decision. The animals all said that you talked to them and although you did not understand their talk or they yours it was very important that communication went on. You just ask your two cats and think back over the long series of quite intelligent dogs that preceded Pompey" here Pompey gave another wag of agreement.

Then quite suddenly he was gone - or possibly I woke up. I remember that I was very cold and stiff, although I could have sworn that I had only been there for a few minutes.

The next time I saw Mr Puck was on the worst day we had had so far in the long process of the fight against "the disease". There had been  the sound of shooting all day long and the dreadful smell of burning flesh had been blown over us with clouds of smoke coming from both sides.

When Pompey and I reached my rocky seat Mr Puck was sitting there. He smiled a greeting with his huge split-faced grin, but he too seemed affected by all that was going on.

"I thought you might need cheering up on a day like this," he said. "But I've been here long enough to be affected by it myself. Its almost as bad as the days of the plague, but the human fear then was of death itself, now its mostly of loss of money but not always. One of the reasons why I came here is because most country people around here love their animals. I try to spread a little warmth where there seems to be nothing but gloom and despair.

"Can you tell me how long it will go on for?" I asked. "No" he said "but my fairly long experience tells me that all these things do eventually go away".

After that day I had many long discussions with Mr Puck. I asked him if he ever went back to his old haunts in the south. He said he did but his visits were getting less and less frequent, so many of the places he had loved were now quite different and many of his friends had followed his example and moved to more remote places, mostly in the north. "There are just too many of you humans trying to live down there. Many of them are newcomers from far off countries. They often know all about our sort and we get on well enough with them, but it is the problem of putting too much in the pint pot".

On another occasion I was asking again about their extraordinary ability to make themselves invisible to us. "Of course it isn't easy and we all have to learn to do it. The teaching takes quite a long time. The reason why you usually think of us as fairies is because our children have to learn the art and to be taught when to use it. Of course, they should be invisible almost all the time but they are careless. There is the additional difficulty that it is less easy for children to be invisible than for adults".

I tried to find out how old he was and what his position was among the Little People. He was always rather cagey about both subjects. He had certainly been about long before the Romans came. Rudyard Kipling's story of the Centurian at Hadrian's Wall makes that clear. That story indicates that he was a powerful figure among his own people even then.

One day when it was clear that Foot and Mouth Disease was, very slowly, clearing away, Mr Puck came stumping up the path carrying a solid looking case. It was a very small example of the sort of case known as a "Steamer trunk". "I can't stop, Mr Dennis, I have to go away for a while" he said "The Little People up North have asked me to go there to help because the humans have the disease in their farms very badly. My people fear that there might be trouble. Your people round here have acted sensibly as I would have expected, but it is not quite the same among the Dales and hills where a lot of my friends ended up. I shall do what little I can to help smooth things over and try to avoid real trouble. We don't want you humans to get into the sort of trouble that has caused upsets in the past. I don't forget that the Wars of the Roses started up there. We seem to be able to help a little in those situations and we are well aware that we owe you just as much as you owe us". With that he picked up his bag and stumped away. Just before he vanished he called over his shoulder "I shall see you again when I get back".

Dennis Woodcock

January 2002