The hounds are coming...

...and they're after Rich Cookson, who, covered in a variety of ghastly but dog-friendly scents, has offered himself up as prey for a day's drag-hunting in the New Forest. But does this non-fatal alternative to bloodsports still carry the same thrill of the chase?

I have rarely smelt this bad. My legs and hands are covered in a mixture of vegetable oil, artificial rabbit scent, dog biscuits, canine saliva and a chemical that smells uncannily like chicken tikka masala. It's also an unseasonably hot day, and running up this hill isn't making me smell any sweeter.

Dragging along behind me, on a piece of twine, is a sock that's been stuffed with pebbles and rags, and liberally doused with the oil, rabbit-juice and curry powder. Wherever I run, it leaves an invisible trial that, somewhere in the woods below, seven sharp-nosed hounds are following to track me down.

It may be distinctly low-tech, but this malodorous sock-on-a-string is at the heart of a country sport that could see a massive surge in popularity if the Government makes good its election promise to ban hunting with hounds. Drag-hunting is similar to conventional hunting in many respects, except that hunters and their hounds follow an artificial scent laid by a runner or a pony, rather than chasing live animals such as foxes or deer. On the face of it, this "cruelty-free" brand appears to offer a neat compromise between animal-welfare campaigners and hunting supporters - but many die-hard hunters simply don't see it that way.

There is one other important distinction, especially for me as today's quarry: I won't be mauled by a pack of hungry dogs and then shot, when they eventually track me down. At least, that's what they told me back at the car...

This particular hunt, based just outside Hampshire's New Forest, normally covers about nine miles in a day, usually run in three stages. But it's far too hot for that today, so I've been given a considerably shorter leg to cover. I stop at a prearranged point at the top of the hill and wait for the hounds to find me. Almost immediately they come into view at the bottom of the hill, racing up the track, noses to the ground. The huntsman's horn, echoing through the trees, urges them on. The dogs are upon me within minutes, excitedly licking the sock and nosing my pockets for dog biscuits; the riders arrive seconds later, their horses sweating in the heat.

Unlikely though it sounds, this chewed-up old sock is at the centre of an extraordinary and intriguing controversy that has split the New Forest's rural community. It has lead to furious public arguments, legal threats and an elaborate plan to kidnap dogs that ended in disaster. It involves a government minister, the RSPCA, the country's top hunting brass, William the Conqueror and - incongruously - the art critic Brian Sewell. It has cost one man £50,000, and goes right to the heart of the future of hunting in England and Wales.

In his bowler hat, black jacket, cream jodhpurs and gleaming riding boots, Michael Thomas, 60, looks every bit the hunting gent. His family has hunted in the New Forest for five generations, and he has been riding since he was a boy. His imposing house is a treasure trove of hunting memorabilia: antlers and deer hooves are mounted on the walls, alongside enormous oil paintings of hunting scenes; there are photographs from the several years he spent as chairman of the prestigious New Forest Buckhounds (NFB) hunt; and by the back door, more riding boots than you can shake a whip at.

The New Forest holds a special place in hunting history. Foxes and deer have been hunted here since William the Conqueror declared it a royal hunting ground in 1079. In the 1980s, it became a major battleground in the fight to ban hunting with dogs: anti-hunting campaigners targeted the NFB relentlessly and with great effect. When, in 1997, they captured some particularly gruesome footage of a young hunter jumping on the back of a buck and drowning it in a river, there was a public outcry, and shortly afterwards, the NFB announced that it would stop hunting - though it claimed the decision was a response to increasing urbanisation and pressures from tourism. Whatever the reason, it was a crucial moment in the 1,000-year history of hunting in the Forest.

"I thought the antis were a bloody nuisance," blusters Thomas. "I believed that hunting live quarry was my right and they shouldn't be interfering with my business. But the interest for all of us was always the horsemanship, working with hounds and the thrill of the chase, rather than the kill itself. Drag-hunting would provide all those things, and preserve all these years of tradition, so I immediately proposed that we should start one up."

But this was 1997: New Labour, which had promised to ban hunting with dogs for 18 years in opposition, had just come to power. The hunting community was feeling under threat and the political ramifications of a prestigious hunt closing under pressure from animal-rights campaigners, and then converting to drag-hunting were considerable. Thomas's idea was given a frosty welcome. The NFB's committee voted it down.

Undeterred, he tried to find backing from other local bodies. He found a major ally in drag-hunting's governing body, the Masters of Draghounds and Bloodhounds Association (MDBA), which told him "we would be only too pleased to provide as much help and assistance as required to enable you to set up, organise and run a drag hunt".

But others were less supportive: the Verderers Court, a powerful body that was set up in 1877 to protect the interests of commoners who have rights to graze stock on the New Forest, refused to give Thomas permission to drag-hunt on its land. The issue split the local community. Thomas started receiving anonymous phone calls in the middle of the night; then bricks through his window. "It was all proving rather difficult," he says.

The NFB began to get rid of its 30 or so hounds. Most were rehomed with other hunts in the UK and France, and by April 1999 just eight of the oldest dogs were left. "It was obvious to me that they were going to be shot, so I put forward a proposal that I take them on," says Thomas. "The committee voted and I lost it by one, which meant they had to be put down. It was unnecessary and very sad."

Determined to stop what he saw as needless killings, Thomas and a handful of supporters hatched a plan to kidnap the hounds. "Someone would take the huntsman down to the local pub and give him plenty to drink, while we went to the kennels and took the hounds," he says. Unfortunately, there was a major flaw in their plan. "We were at the hunt ball when we discussed this and we'd all had a lot to drink. Everyone immediately knew what we were up to." A few days later, the hounds were taken out and shot.

Members of the committee said that the hounds were unfit for rehoming and insisted that putting them down was the kindest thing to do. But animal welfare charities were outraged and MPs angrily attacked the decision in Parliament. "That was the dividing line between me and the hunting fraternity," says Thomas. "I became really determined to start a drag hunt and make it work. It was the only thing I focused on, at some cost to my own friendships among the hunting community."

He set about finding new hounds. "I knew that some hunts would be able to give me a few surplus hounds for rehoming and retraining," he says. Officials at the RSPCA heard about his plans to rehome hunting dogs and offered their support. By the end of the year, he had enough hounds to start a small hunt, and he applied to the Forestry Commission (FC), the government department responsible for the New Forest, for a hunting licence. "I thought I'd have no problem at all since the Government claimed to be very strongly against live-quarry hunting," he says. But the FC's response was terse: "There will be no licenses issued for drag-hunting on Forestry Commission lands... In the light of that decision there would seem to be little point in continuing our correspondence on paper or face to face [sic]," a short letter said.

Thomas decided to apply some political pressure, and when the Labour Party announced that it was holding its 1999 conference just a few miles away in Bournemouth, he invited Elliott Morley, the director-general of the RSPCA, and members of the Commons Animal Welfare Committee to a reception in his garden. But if he thought that such backing would help his case, he was mistaken. "On the day, I had a fox-hunter outside my gate photographing every single person who came onto my property - exactly the kind of tactics they object to the antis using." And just days later, the MBDA - the body that had promised Thomas "as much help and assistance as required" - called him to a disciplinary hearing. "The timing of the event, and its political implications are not acceptable," a letter explained. "It has for many years been the executive committee policy to keep the RSPCA at arms' length from our sport." Another letter from the MBDA stated that the hearing would examine whether Thomas' association with the RSPCA was "prejudicial to the wellbeing of the sport of drag-hunting". Thomas says: "Quite frankly, I was amazed."

The hearing was eventually dropped after Thomas hired a barrister to fight his case. And with his new political backing, he again wrote to the Forestry Commission to ask for a license. The FC replied that Thomas needed to conduct trials to assess the impact of drag-hunting on the New Forest. Reluctantly, he did so, running four trials in the first year, but that wasn't enough. The FC asked him to do more the following year. Again, he agreed. The first trial was fine, but the second, he says, was sabotaged. "There were a lot of foresters out on their ponies, using mobile phones, and as we were on the first leg of the trial, I saw to my horror one forester crack his whip and stampede some cattle right through our hunt. When you're going on a horse at 30 miles an hour, that kind of thing is potentially very dangerous. Later, a herd of red deer also stampeded towards the hunt. Now, that's unheard of: usually, if you see any deer in the forest they just melt away." Thomas was furious: "The trial was chaotic and I simply couldn't continue under conditions like that." The New Forest Draghunt, it seemed, had stalled.

Back in the woods, today's hunting is at an end. One of the hounds, aptly named Mayhem, is mauling the sock, while the others shelter under pine trees from the midday sun. "I've been trying to set this thing up for more than five years now," says Thomas as looks down over the plains below us shimmering in the heat. "It costs me about £10,000 a year to keep going: £5,000 for the food and vet bills; £5,000 for the labour of the guy who comes to look after the hounds every day. That's £50,000 so far."

Since the trials collapsed, Thomas and his supporters have managed to find some private land where they can meet to go drag-hunting. He's also secured some celebrity patrons - a strange alliance that includes Joanna Lumley, Sir Patrick Moore, Ann Widdecombe and Brian Sewell. These small (there are just five riders here today) and low-profile meets are, however, a far cry from what Thomas originally imagined, though he's still hopeful that one day he'll be able to hunt in the New Forest again. The FC says it can't grant him a license until the trials are finished, but a spokesman adds: "The door is still open; the jury is still out. We haven't made a commitment one way or the other. We would consider any new application on its merits, and make a decision at the time."

But while the hunting debate grinds on in parliament, Thomas is simply going to wait. "Because of all the politics, I've decided to stay off the New Forest for now. We still hope to reach agreement with the Verderers Court and the Forestry Commission, but until parliament decides on hunting, it's simply all too political."

It is impossible to confidently predict what will eventually happen to the proposed ban on hunting, and Thomas refuses to be drawn on the rights and wrongs of it. But one thing's certain: if it goes through, he and his allies in this corner of rural Britain will be quietly celebrating. It's ironic, but perhaps a hunting ban is now the very thing that can secure the success of Thomas's hunt.