Gosh. On my hacks at my old yard, we regularly encountered Highland bagpipes, junkies, twelve-year olds drinking Buckfast, burnt-out cars, abandoned sofas, and once, a couple having sex in a car. But it all seems so boring compared to your stories.
That said, there was the time we rode past a falconer carrying his hawk on his wrist. Horse wasn't fazed at all, but the hawk lost its sh**t when it saw us and was flapping frantically on its handler's arm, throwing itself against the tresses. That part of S. Lanarkshire is really not where I'd expect to see falconry. I wouldn't have minded a better look at the bird, because it was pretty damn cool, but I got the sense that its owner wanted us to not be there as quickly as possible.