It is now law, we all know that, but those of us who will attempt to follow the hounds on foot and by car across the wide acres of Yorkshire and the rest of the country will not be at risk of arrest – there are not enough police officers in the land to clamp handcuffs on everyone who will be out in support of hunting.
Huntsmen, charged by their employers to lead the mounted field in pursuit of the hounds, and their assistants – the whippers-in – are obvious targets for police and anti-hunt protesters, as are the masters of the hunts, the figureheads, the men in red jackets charging along at the head of the action.
The various hunts who will be out tomorrow – virtually every pack of hounds in England and Wales – have kept their plans to themselves.
Most will follow a trail laid in advance by the huntsman. Some may take a risk, simply set off across ground that friendly farmers have indicated they can use and, lo and behold, the hounds will uncover a fox.
Having been bred for centuries so to do, they will then take off in pursuit with the hunt following on, trying in vain to call off the hounds.
I will be there tomorrow not because I want to see a fox killed. In fact, only twice in my life have I seen a fox: one was in my headlights crossing Kirkstall Road in the middle of Leeds just after midnight, the other lay dead at the side of the eastbound M62 beyond Goole. A prominent Yorkshire racehorse trainer, who will be out with his hunt rather than racing tomorrow, confessed the other day that he had been hunting for years and had yet to see a fox.
That, as those who proposed and carried through Parliament the Bill making hunting with hounds illegal would insist, is by the way.
For them, cruelty to animals is at the heart of the issue and the killing of mammals by hounds for the pleasure of humans is not something to be allowed in these enlightened days.
They scoff at claims that hunt employees will lose their livelihoods and the roof over their heads should the ban lead to the end of hunting; they decry suggestions that whole packs of hounds will have to be put down as it is impossible for them to be retrained as household pets.
They dismiss the trimmings of hunting – the red jackets, the call of the horn, the stirrup-cup – as frippery when, in fact, they are all part of age-old custom and practice. And they dismiss as misleading the concept of people from all classes dressing up, taking their horse into the countryside and riding at a gallop for enjoyment as they pursue an animal they have not seen.
What of we who merely stand and watch? Certainly the pre-hunt gathering is a marvellous sight: magnificent horses, superbly turned out, their riders pink and polite, all smiles before they gallop off. Hours later those same horses return heaving and awash with sweat, their riders caked in mud, once-pink cheeks now red with exertion.
We followers will have missed perhaps 90 per cent of the hunt. Although, on my first visit to a hunt – the Rockwood Harriers on a dank, mizzling Saturday morning last October – brought the unforgettable sight of the field charging headlong down one side of a wall high in the Pennines while, unknown to them, the hare they were chasing scampered down the field on the other side of the wall, bounded over a road and was gone. Hares, one old-timer said, always run in circles. No-one had told the hounds that.
Before that visit to the Rockwood, I had never been to a hunt, nor had any inclination to do so. My opinions on the activity were unformed and have come together only in the last few months as I have taken a greater interest. I may not be alone. There were thousands at the traditional Boxing Day meetings last year, many more than normal. Why? To see foxes harried and hunted? In all probability they and we would be stunned, maybe even reduced to tears, if we witnessed the ripping apart of a cornered fox by a baying pack. That is sometimes the result of a hunt and even the most fervent hunt supporter cannot escape the fact that it can lead to an agonising end for the quarry.
The arguments have been tossed to and fro for years, not least in letters to this newspaper, and the camps are clearly defined. Except, that is, for those of us who want hunting to continue but can see why the opposition is so vehement.
For me, hunting has little to do with cruelty. How could it when friends who are members of the British Association for Shooting and Conservation regularly call with the fruits of their day's entertainment: pigeon, a brace or two of pheasant, maybe a rabbit, occasionally even a hare? Only this week we enjoyed a marvellous home-made game pie.
The question of controlling the fox population should be, at least in this corner, a matter between the landowner – who gives the hunt permission to ride over his land – and the hunters, who pay for their day in the saddle.
Shooting, trapping and poisoning are other means of killing and bring with them their own shortcomings. It is a strange place in which we stand, those of us who wish to see hunting continue but who have no wish to partake in the grisly finale. It might be argued that we are cowards; that we hold firm to no principle; that we put enjoyment before responsibility.
We love the tradition, the pageantry of the hunt and we can see the value of the age-old compact between landowner and hunter; the hunt is a part of country life – which is why so many country people support hunting without actually taking to horse. Economics, of course, also have a bearing.
But in the end, whether that end comes after just a few months of hunt-watching, a lifetime of participation or years of opposition, it comes down to personal choice. And that may be why so many people will be out tomorrow in support of hunting and hunters.
Perhaps the key issue is not cruelty but a matter of freedom of choice. A demand for acceptance of the fact that different groups of people have different standards, that we cannot always be lumped together and told what is best for us. There is a feeling, especially in the country, that government interferes too much in the affairs of individuals.
There is a suspicion, also, that townies rule the land, that urbanites are in such a majority when it comes to elections that they can over-ride the traditions, ambitions and lifestyles of those whom they do not care to understand. Already the law against hunting with hounds is subject to intense scrutiny by hunt supporters and political waves are being unleashed which could have a profound effect on the General Election. The countryside will not be cowed into defeat. One thing is certain: tomorrow's demonstration of support for hunting will not be the end of the argument.

Following the York and Ainsty on a landmark day for hunting. Don't miss
Country Week tomorrow.