Andrews Bridge Opens Fall Season at the Slabpile
The foxhunter’s favorite view: between the ears / Rachel Wilkoski photo
Thursday morning, September third, just past 7:00 am, the sun was rising over high corn fields, alfalfa and late season tobacco fields, much of it soon to be harvested by teams of Belgian mules in Christiana, Pennsylvania. Off of Highland Road, arriving Andrews Bridge Foxhounds members were pulling their rigs onto the edge of a tobacco field. The farm ground was greasy from the prior night of rain and it was the slightest bit humid.
Entering Young Hounds
What follows is an excerpt from the author’s excellent book, Letters to a Young Huntsman.
Foxhounds of the Orange County Hounds (VA) / Douglas Lees photo
We would start roading (mounted hound exercise) around the middle of July. I really wanted the youngsters off couples by this time as a couple wrapped around a horse’s leg can be an ugly thing. Once puppies are used to going out with the horses, then it’s time to start introducing them to things like sheep, deer, cattle, etc.
This should be done as low key as possible; the worst thing you can do is make a big deal of it. If you have staff swinging whips and speaking loudly to the hounds, it’s only going to jazz them up. If you stay relaxed and cool, the hounds will pick up on that and remain cool themselves. Theses are things that they will see every day out hunting and everyone has to act accordingly.
Within the Confines of this Pasture, How the Universe Is Understood
Wendell Hawken / Matthew Klein photo
September pitch-black mornings I leave the lights off
so I can see to find my horse out in his field,
his flat black shape darker than the dark.
Rope and halter in one hand, ankle-deep in tall grass dew,
I walk to where he might be – beside his rock outcrop,
or rump up to his poplar.
The Fox’s Morning
The Fox’s Morning & Other Stories, W.H. DeCourcy Wright, edited by Ann L. McIntosh, illustrated by Peggy Kauffman, The Elkridge-Harford Hunt, Maryland, 2010, 106 pages, $33.00It is possible that the fox was not content with such a diet as nature has provided for him, but chose to invade the domain of man, and to filch from an ill-protected roost of chickens, a matronly hen, whose eggs had been helping to fill the basket of some thrifty farmer’s wife. Pleasure would be too mild a word to employ in describing the fox’s sensations resulting from a successful venture of this kind. Wild rapture would be more appropriate, with a dash of sneering derision and scornful mockery of humankind, whose efforts at poultry raising the wild animal finds so interesting. In any event, it is probable that he welcomes the pale light of dawn as a signal for him to relax.
Hark! Old Horse
Carla Hawkinson, MFH with her soulmate, Forty-One, her inspiration for the poem / Joy Bragg This poem was first published in the Summer 2008 issue of Covertside when I was editor of that magazine. It was re-published in 2013 (the year the old horse passed away) in Foxhunting Life. It’s time for a reprise, if only to remind our readers that there are some excellent contemporary sporting poets still among us, though precious few.
The horse, Forty-One, died at age twenty-seven. He hunted the better part of nineteen seasons for the author, who was MFH of the Tennessee Valley Hunt.
At Galway Races
William Butler Yeats“At Galway Races” was written in Coole Park, Lady Gregory’s house, in 1908 after the poet had spent a day at the Galway Race Meeting. That is over a century ago but the wish it expresses is the same as that expressed by the new Minister for the Arts in Ireland, Heather Humphries, in a recent radio interview. It is a wish that is shared by virtually all artists, literary and otherwise, however ‘elitist’ they’re supposed to be: “Art for everybody.” And it is one that Yeats expressed often in prose and poetry.
AT GALWAY RACES
Gone Away With Casanova Hunt
Huntsman Tommy Lee Jones and the foxhounds of the Casanova Hunt, now disbanded. / Richard Clay Photography
For the Casanova Hunt (VA), established in 1909 during the waning days of Theodore Roosevelt’s term as president, June 30, 2020 marks the end of the era. It’s a real heartbreaker. And a personal one.
It was an easy hack from the kennels at Weston to the Boarding House covert, so named half a century ago by Capt. Ian Benson, MFH and huntsman, because that covert harbored everything. It was often a quick cast and hounds were away.
Foxhounds in a Kennel
Foxhounds in a Kennel, Christine Merrill (American, Contemporary), oil on canvas, 42 x 60 inches, framed: 49 ½ x 67 ½ inches, contact gallery for more information.
This painting of foxhounds in kennel, almost monumental in scale, caught our eye. Offered by William Secord Gallery in New York City, the composition by a contemporary artist is reminiscent of many we’ve seen by traditionalists such as John Emms (1843−1912) in particular, but the execution veers dramatically from the style of the traditional Masters. We are also reminded of Emms’s work in the very scale of the framed painting: 49-1/2 x 67-1/2 inches; Emms often worked in this large format.
Chris Howells and His Hounds
One day some years ago while recuperating from whatever had me grounded at the moment, I decided to follow my home pack, the Blue Ridge foxhounds, by vehicle. Fortunately, Chris Howells had an open seat, so I climbed into his blue pickup truck.
I knew that whatever would be seen of the action that day from any vehicle would be seen from Chris’s truck first. Every road follower wants to ride with Chris. If there’s no room, they do their best to follow him. Chris knows the country and how the foxes run.
Chris hunted the Blue Ridge foxhounds from 1973 to 2001 during the Mastership of Judy Greenhalgh. Since his retirement from the saddle, Chris has been following hounds on the roads for another almost twenty years. He serves as the principal road whip and remains a valued and knowledgeable member of the staff.
The following article was first published in the November 1983 edition of “Horseplay” magazine. –Ed.
The early morning light shows a solitary figure on his way to the kennels, a terrier at his heels and a can of Pepsi in his hand. Christopher P. Howells, huntsman for the Blue Ridge Hunt in Boyce, Virginia, is about to start another busy day. Hounds greet him with an enthusiastic din, but turn quiet as he speaks to them in his soft English accent and sees to the feeding.
Field Master Val O’Connell: A Rum One to Follow
Meet Val O’Connell, Field Master, Scarteen Black and Tans. / Catherine Power photo
Val O’Connell’s is possibly one of the best known faces in organised Irish racing through his role in the Turf Club (now the Irish Horseracing Regulatory Board). Val serves as chief inspector of courses and clerk of the course for half a dozen southern meetings. Perhaps what is less well known is that Val is one the keenest hunting men in these islands.
He has been Field Master of the famed Scarteen Hounds in Co Limerick for almost twenty seasons. I am among those who have attempted to follow him across the country on his grey, and know what a formidable horseman he is. As Field Master, Val is following in the footsteps of the legendary PP Hogan who held the role for many years when Thady Ryan carried the horn. Longtime Scarteen whipper-in Tommy O’Dwyer became young Val’s mentor. “Give the hounds a chance, and never jump into a field until hounds have left it,” was Tommy’s advice, and Val follows it to the letter in his role as Field Master.