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He delighted in the fact that the main lodge, on the eastern shore of Loch Maree, was accessible only by boat, and that there were no roads to either of the outlying lodges - Carnmore (eight miles over the mountain) and Larachan-tivore (17 miles). Friends sent out to stalk for a week had to fend for themselves, without electricity or communications, but were supplied with fabulous wine. \"You'll find some bottles under the stairs,\" [Paul] would say. \"I hope they're all right.\" Who will ever forget drinking perfectly aged Chteau Cheval Blanc or Chteau Palmer by candlelight, with stags roaring in the dark outside the windows?

This painstakingly researched, well-written and beautifully illustrated book proceeds to take the reader on a guided tour, not only of Thomas Lord's famous ground, but also back through time, with the help of the Lord's archives. It is a fascinating study of the growth of an institution, from a village field (as it was) into a place of world renown. The International Cricket Council may have decided to leave the fold and set up headquarters in the Middle East, but for many Lord's is still the home of cricket.

[Duff Hart-Davis] fills his pages with Audubon's words, culled from journal entries and letters to his wife, Lucy, and full color reprints of some of Audubon's striking prints. In creating his works, Audubon would kill the birds and then use wire to prop them in a more natural position.

Over dinner Adam let on that when he approached the owner to arrange accommodation, he had encountered certain difficulties. Football hooligans have created such a bad impression in Spain that Javier Ruano was at first none too keen on the idea of receiving English tourists. What sort of people would we be? Would we get drunk, throw food, smash the furniture? In fact, we did get mildly tipsy, because the wine was so delicious, but the food was far too good to throw, and when Javier saw we were enjoying ourselves without rioting, he relaxed visibly. In the morning, on a warm-up walk of four or five miles round the farm, we got our first proper look at the age-old system of dehesa agriculture, in which cork and holm oaks are dotted about ancient pasture. Black-legged pigs were gorging themselves on the autumn harvest of acorns, and the trees provided shade for the pigs and herds of cattle. The trunks of recently stripped cork oaks - from which the bark is taken every nine years - were an amazing colour: bright, reddish-brown, almost purple. The general strangeness of the surroundings was emphasised by a little group of Visigothic tombs, carved out of solid rock: those herdsmen and graziers who dominated Spain from the fifth to the eighth centuries must have been tiny, for none of the cavities was more than five feet long. Early next day, on a crystalline morning, with the air filled by scents of pine, thyme and eucalyptus, we walked out of Portugal into Spain, and headed through rolling farmland towards the distant Sierra de Gata, which dominated the eastern skyline. The only disappointment was the lack of wildlife. We did see the occasional eagle and vulture soaring, and closer at hand azure-winged magpies flitted about the trees. Scuffed- up patches of earth showed where boar had rootled during the night. Yet in all our six days' walking we never set eyes on a wild animal.

Sir: The answer to Mr Duff Hart-Davis' article on ragwort poisoning horses (\"The catcher in the rye\", 18 September) can be found in The Flora of The British Isles by Clapham, Tutin and Warburg, which says ragwort is a weed of \"waysides and neglected or overgrazed pastures\".

Ypsilanti: Another coup, but of a greater vintage. When Ypsilanti won the Jubilee Handicap in 1903, it marked the first successful strike by the Druids' Lodge Confederacy, the hard-hitting gamblers who terrorised bookmakers in the first decade of the century and featured in this space 21 weeks ago. In modern money, Ypsilanti won them almost pounds 5m, having been backed from 25-1 to 7-2, which means that his backers must have staked the equivalent of at least pounds 200,000. This alone was quite an achievement, even allowing for the fact that bookies in those days were worthy of the name and not afraid to take a serious bet. The same gamble would be effectively impossible in today's ultra-suspicious betting market, since to have any chance of getting such a sum on at 25-1, you would need to visit every betting shop in the country (there are about 9,000) and stake a little over pounds 20 in each. Even then, a fair number would probably laugh in your face and offer you pounds 5 at 25-1 and the rest at SP. Yarborough: A hand at whist or bridge which does not contain any card higher than a nine. It takes its name from Lord Yarborough, who along with the fellow nobleman who gave us sandwiches was a familiar figure in the gambling clubs which sprang up throughout London in the latter part of the 18th century. Yarborough would offer anyone odds of 1,000- 1 against them being dealt such a hand, a price which was cheerfully snapped up by any punter with more greed than sense. Yarborough himself, though, had obviously done his homework, since the true odds against such an outcome are only a little shy of 2,000- 1. Which only goes to show that you should always be suspicious of an apparently generous price, even - or perhaps particularly - if the person who is laying it owns half of Norfolk.

Being fair, and I try to be, I haven't read the book yet. It won't be published until tomorrow. But it would be a surprise if Zac Goldsmith, Robin Page, Clarissa Dickson-Wright, Duff Hart-Davis, Daisy Waugh, Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, Roger Scruton, Max Hastings, Johnny Scott and Lucinda Lambton depart from the lines they usually take. Perhaps I should have waited to read what he has to say about \"rural life remaining true to itself in the face of huge political, economic and social pressures\" - Countryside Alliance blurb, not his - but the thought of Zac, Clarissa, Duff, Daisy, Hugh, Johnny, Lucinda and the most unlikeable Roger Scruton was too much. For example, the last time - and I sincerely hope it was - I heard Duff Hart Davis speak was at a wild-deer management conference. He has written books on the subject, including one called - oh yes it is - Monarchs of the Glen, and most of his speech was devoted to teaching stalking in schools and getting children to appreciate the finer points of gralloching. THERE is, of course, more to living in the countryside than farming, just as there is much more than fox-hunting, and Tony Andrews, director of the Scottish section of the Countryside Alliance, appreciates that. He has made several brave efforts since he took over 14 months ago to widen the Alliance's remit, including a conference on a sustainable rural future which was hi-jacked by Sir Iain Noble's reactionary views on ethnic minorities and incomers.

FAUNA BRITANNICA by Duff Hart-Davis (Weidenfeld, pounds 30) FAUNA BRITANNICA by Stefan Buczacki (Hamlyn, pounds 40) One of these, the coypu (from South America) arrived in 1929 to be farmed for their soft under-fur. They soon escaped into the wild, spread through East Anglia, and devoured garden vegetables, cereal crops, potatoes and sugar beet, undermined waterway banks with their burrows, and cost the pest-control people millions to eradicate them. THE TINY edible dormouse was introduced by the Romans, who kept them in special jars, fattening them up on nuts and roasting them as a treat. They eventually escaped to become a pest, raiding farm crops, invading houses, chewing through wood and electrics, drowning themselves in water tanks and polluting the entire system.