Vivien Bryce is a former civil servant who retired to Finland in mid-August of last year.

When I retired to Finland in mid-August of last year I was obliged to leave Hannibal, my Highland Ox, behind in Belgium. The rules for the movement of bovines are so strict that I was advised to wait until mid-winter, when no more flies were around to pose a danger of disease.

Anyway, Hannibal arrived. He is relatively small but very solid: about 400 kilos, with horns more than a metre across, point to point; these were wrapped in plastic to protect them during the journey.

All seemed well and I decided to keep him blocked in his stable for a few days. This was a big mistake because for the past six years he has lived like the monarch of the glen in the Belgian Ardennes. I had intended to sleep outside with him for the first night, but the temperature was so low that I might never have awoken. However, I checked him every hour until two in the morning and then went to sleep indoors.

I opened the curtains early the next morning and the light from the bedroom shone out onto Hannibal, who was looking in at me! I dressed hurriedly and went out to get him back into his barn. Although he followed, he refused to take the last few steps towards incarceration. He has always hated ropes so I had to rely on apples and soft words; however he cared nothing for these, having grazed himself full on blueberry bushes, heather and snow. He decided to continue investigating the forest.

I went inside and called a friend, who agreed that the police must be alerted. When they arrived, I was blocking Hannibal from going towards the road but couldn’t turn him round. Neither could the police, so they called the fire brigade. Very soon, around fifteen people were involved.

It took two hours to head him back through forest to his enclosure. Two hours of chasing, persuading, soothing calls – and they had such patience. Hannibal is not aggressive but he hid in bushes, broke through undergrowth and galloped every which way in an attempt to escape. The sight was spectacular as was the relief when he finally decided it was a fair cop and sauntered, exhausted, into the enclosure.

In spite of the cold, everyone was glowing with the running and adrenalin, and one of the men told me that he not had so much fun in ages; the others instantly agreed, laughing. They also told me to check that Hannibal had not hurt himself when pushing through broken branches. Some of them had taken photographs, and I think they will remember that day for a long time to come.

Police in other countries would very probably have shot Hannibal to avoid any possible damage, but not the Finns. Their enthusiasm in so whole-heartedly assuming such a crazy task, their teamwork and their kindness in their attempts at avoiding Hannibal’s hurting himself or being traumatised, that I shall forever have a very high opinion of Finnish police and firemen. Finland should really be extremely proud of such youngsters.