Excerpts from Huntsmen of Our Time by Kenneth Ligertwood, Pelham Books, London, 1968 (Out of print, but used copies are available on the Internet)
This book, containing a collection of articles first published in Horse and Hound (UK), was brought to my attention by Dennis Downing, huntsman at the Blue Ridge Hunt (VA). Each story—forty-five in all—profile an outstanding English huntsman of the author’s time. Here are short excepts from three of the stories to give you a flavor of this delightful book.
Jack Howells, huntsman, North Northumberland
Jack must be one of the most able exponents in the art of hunting hounds. He not only used his powers of observation, but also his brains, as witness the story that he told me about the day when hounds were at fault on entering a ploughed field. He asked a ploughman if by chance he had seen the hunted fox, but the ploughman said he had seen nothing until hounds arrived. Jack picked up his hounds, and on cantering them to the far side of this large field, they immediately hit it off in a dead straight line from whence they had thrown up.
The fox had entered the field and had run down the plough furrow, unseen by the tractor man, who had in course of time ploughed in the line of the fox during his next round of the ploughing.
In this case no help had been forthcoming, but such “help” is not always the best. One day, with hounds running somewhat slowly on a rather stale line near Mindrum Mill, Jack was sent word through his whipper-in that hounds were running a hare. Later, the same information was delivered by the informant himself. Jack, having acknowledged this information—and at the same time having offered up prayers to Diana herself—persevered, and eventually worked up to his fox, killing him after an outstanding hound hunt.
Jack, with a twinkle in his eye, asked his Master if he would very kindly present the brush to “a certain gentleman,” and at the same time ask him “if he has ever seen a hare with one of these tied to his backside.”
Jack Littleworth, huntsman, Quorn
For a writer to ask the huntsman of the Quorn for “some good hunts” would seem to be asking for a précis of the Quorn seasons….
In their Saturday country, from Windmill Hill, hounds ran right across the Monday country to Welby Osiers, a ten-mile point and straight as a die with no check.
Only two horses finished this hunt….
During this day a remarkable thing happened to two members of the Quorn field.. Mr. Brack, the hunt accountant, was on a hireling, and Mr. Rudkin from Leicester, was on his own horse, when both men came to grief at the same fence.They soon remounted and continued the hunt….
On Mr. Rudkin’s return home after hunting, his groom said to him, “Well, what have you done with your horse?”
“This is it,” said Mr. Rudkin.
“This isn’t the horse you set out on anyway, Sir.”
“I know very well it is!”
However, as soon as Mr. Rudkin had dismounted he saw at once that it was not in fact his horse.
Mr. Brack, in his turn was very worried, as being on a hireling, he had absolutely no idea whose horse he was now riding! Surely, this was truly “the glorious uncertainty of the chase!”
Percy Durno, huntsman, Heythrop
One day only will suffice to illustrate the name Durno of the Heythrop; it was the day of the children’s Christmas meet. Hounds found at Adlestrop Hill, and running with a good cry, and rather too well for many of the children, checked near Rollright. Durno took one look at his field, then waited five minutes for “smaller legs” to catch up.
Then he cast his hounds and hit off the line, which by good fortune turned back the way they had come. “Spooning up” all those little ones left on the way, Durno finished the hunt with “all present and correct.”
What a splendid way in which to bring up all those in whose hands the future of hunting depends! But how typical of the man.