In Scotland, just before Burns' night, took part in my very first Haggis Hunt out on the moors. Man, those furry little fellahs sure can run, fluffy wee tartan tails bobbing up and down. But if your pack of Haggis hounds are well trained, they'll separate one from the bunch and head it into a thistle patch. That slows him down just enough for your piper to get close and start tuning up his bagpipes. At which point the poor wee haggis just gives up and comes out with his front paws in the air. Nature in the raw, huh?
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