In All Fairness to Horse and Hound
Epp Wilson, MFH wrote this piece for members of the Belle Meade Hunt (GA). Foxhunting Life subscriber Howard Benson suggested that Epp’s recommendations deserve wider distribution. We agree. What follows is a sympathetic, timely, and heartfelt message as only Epp can deliver it!
Master and huntsman Epp Wilson and the Belle Meade hounds / Lauren Giannini photo
The hound-roading or exercise season is a good time to bring out green horses—or horses otherwise not used to hunting and hounds bolting out of the bushes and dashing at them from behind.
It is a lot easier for green horses to process surprises now, while we are just exercising hounds than it is when we are hunting, and their minds are already overwhelmed with the mental challenges of a coyote chase. Frequently the inexperienced horse is already at wit’s end during a coyote run, so, of course, he is more likely to kick a hound.
Cubhunting Starts
Illustration by Lionel Edwards The trees and the hedges both touched with a glory, The bracken all turning to gold,And grass in the mornings bejewelled and hoary, Are sights that are good to behold. September is with us, and soon we’ll be hearing, As mists roll away from the dawn,A note that is bandied from […]
Foxhunters on Horseback: Exploring Dartmoor
(Front to back) The author, Rosie Campbell, MFH, Live Oak huntsman Spencer Allen, his father Chris Allen, and two friends explore Dartmoor National Park, with Liberty Trail hosts Elaine and Robert Prior.
The first morning there was heavy mist across the moors, and visibility was limited. What I could see looked exactly like I imagined a scene from Hound of the Baskervilles or Jamaica Inn. Ghostly hedges revealed hidden farmyards, complete with thatched roof cottages and low barns.
We had come to Dartmoor National Park in Exeter, England to ride across the famous moors for a couple of days before continuing onto Devon and Cornwall. Rosie Campbell, MFH of Bull Run Hunt (VA), her husband Chris Allen and son-in-law Spencer Allen, and my husband Michael and I had driven down to Bovey Castle from London on Tuesday. It had been cool, with some showers, and by 4:00 pm we met in the lovely sitting room for a traditional Devon cream tea. Delicious and decadent. We had it only once! Buttery biscuits, topped with berry jam and then the cream, which really looks like butter, is so good.
Bovey Castle is a luxurious spa in the heart of Dartmoor and caters to hunting and fishing activities of all sorts. They have partnered with Liberty Trails, the equine brainchild of Elaine and Robert Prior, which offers riding holidays across these moors made famous by Sherlock Holmes and more recently, Stephen Spielberg’s movie, War Horse.
Hazards at Howard County
When the screw holding the paddock-booted foot straight on the leg of his prosthesis broke one day out hunting, his little daughter Wendy rode up alongside, pointed at the odd way his toe was turned toward the horse’s belly, and said, “Dad!” Bob, of course, corrected the situation by reversing the foot so it pointed […]
Staying at the Ringwell Kennels
Sassoon was excited to be hunting in the Ringwell country this season. On his very first hunt as a youngster with the local pack, he had spied, admired, and envied another young boy, Denis Milden, who had appeared to be so experienced. That boy was now the new Master and huntsman of the Ringwell. It was an overnight trip to that country for Sassoon, and he had been invited to stay at the kennels with his old acquaintance, the Master, as often as he wished. What follows is extracted and condensed from Memoirs of a Foxhunting Man, Part Seven, Chapter III. Click for our earlier sampling from Part Seven, Chapter II.
Staying at the Kennels was the most significant occasion my little world could offer me, and in order that he might share my sublunary advancement I took Cockbird with me. In reply to my reserved little note I received a cheery letter from Denis: he would be delighted to see me and gave detailed instructions about my bag being called for and taken out to the Kennels from Downfield.
Old English Hounds Thriving at Irish National Hound Show
Pair of Old English hounds. County Louth hound (foreground) shown by huntsman Alan Reilly / Noel Mullins photo
The Irish National Hound Show at Stradbally Hall, County Laois, Ireland keeps growing in both entries and spectators. This year the weather also played a positive role as hound enthusiasts were often three deep along the ringside, and a large number lingered and socialised long after the show was over.
Competition was keen in the foxhound ring where judge Nigel Peel, a well-known hunting correspondent himself (and a member of Foxhunting Life’s Panel of Experts), commented that the Old English hounds were some of the finest he has judged either in Ireland or in the UK, and the Modern English Hounds had real quality as well.
The Old English (or Traditionally-Bred) hounds and the Modern English hounds are judged separately in their own classes, but the winners of those classes come up against each other in the final championship classes for dogs and bi*ches.* On occasion the Old English hounds being bred today will prevail.
Hooking Kids With a Junior Hound Clinic
Juniors love to go hunting, but for them isn’t it mostly about the rider and his or her horse? How about the hounds? Couldn’t we set the foxhunting hook deeper by connecting interested juniors with hounds as well?
Huntsman and whipper-in, Andy and Erin Bozdan, spend a day with the Loudoun Fairfax juniors acquainting them with hounds. /
The Loudoun Fairfax Hunt (VA) is thinking about just that. They are hosting a Junior Hound Clinic this summer—a one-day affair, easy to put on. I’ve long been involved with hound programs for juniors and this is one idea that I hope appeals to other hunts.
Memoirs of a Foxhunting Man
Extracted and condensed from Memoirs of a Foxhunting Man, Part Seven, Chapter II.
British author and war poet, Siegfried Sassoon
October arrived; the drought broke with forty-eight hours’ quiet rain; and Dixon had a field day with the new clipping machine, of which it is enough to say that the stable-boy turned a handle and Dixon did the rest. He had decided to clip the horses’ legs this season; the Ringwell was a bad country for thorns, and these were, naturally less likely to be overlooked on clipped legs, which also were more sightly and dried quicker than hairy ones.
Resplendent in my new red coat, and almost too much admired by Aunt Evelyn and Miriam, I went off to the opening meet by the early train from Dumbridge to Downfield. Half an hour’s ride took me to the kennels, where I joined an impressive concourse, mounted, in vehicles, and on foot. The sun shone after a white frost, and everyone was anxious to have a look at the new Master. My new coat was only a single spot of color among many, but I felt a tremendous swell all the same. Familiar faces greeted me, and when we trotted away to draw Pacey’s Plantation, old Mr. Dearborn bumped along beside me in his faded red coat and blue and white spotted birds-eye cravat. “This horse ought to have one of you young chaps on his back!” he exclaimed. “Jumps too big for an old buffer like me; never known him to put a foot wrong, clever as a cat—(hold up, will you!)…his clever hunter having tripped badly on some stones.
My Hound Training Program:Well-Intentioned But Misguided
Marj Botsford would winter the hunt’s puppies again, but do it differently!A few years ago, the Ottawa Valley Hunt (ON) huntsman at the time, Mr. Adrian Quick, made a request for volunteer families interested in being sponsors for hound puppies over the winter. My husband and I volunteered to take on two puppies. We are animal lovers and were between canines at the time.
In late November, the puppies arrived—Hamish and Hawkesbury. They were about six months old. Being familiar with family dogs and not hounds, we asked Adrian if there was anything in particular that we should know about foxhounds. His advice was to feed them lots of proteins. We knew that hounds are working animals and not family pets so we prepared a stall in the barn for them. Feeding proteins was not a problem as my brother has a dairy farm and a side business selling beef; therefore we had access to all the organ meat the hounds needed.
Purrfec’ Granary
Back in the late 1950s, Deirdre and her friend Sarah, both just nineteen, came to America. The pair had left Britain, where post-war ration books were still in use. Sarah was to train horses and riders for Jamie Kreuz at Bryn Mawr Farms outside Philadelphia. Deirdre was to work for the Insurance Company of North America in Philadelphia and help Sarah on weekends. What follows is Part IV of their adventures, which have included Part I: “How to Bridle a Green Field Hunter,” Part II: “The Witch With Warts,” and Part III: Pink Gin: The Beer Swilling Timber Horse.
Illustration by Rosemary Coates
Sarah and I clearly remember Billy telling us about Purrfec’ Granary. Billy mucked out for us but he also had a way with words. This is how he described her infuriating ability to demolish stone walls and gallop off toward the rising sun.
“She lie down against a wall of stone—it’s a trick she learned—and she do gently poosh that darned wall clean over. Then off she go wid ’er tail over herself!”