Hunt Reports

Kennel huntsman Nick Hopkins exercises the North Cotswold foxhounds through the village of Broadway. / Denya Massey Clarke photo

On holiday one spring day in 2008 my husband (non-horsey) and I were walking down High Street in Broadway, enjoying the charms of one of the most attractive towns in the Cotswolds. Suddenly I heard hounds.

I determined to find the source, while my husband is thinking, “Really? We’re on vacation, and she finds hounds? Out of the blue? Really?” I saw a lane called Kennel Lane, and there, one block off High Street, were the kennels of the North Cotswold Foxhounds!

I was enchanted by the hounds living right in town. It made them so accessible, yet they weren’t. The North Cotswold foxhounds are a beautifully bred, highly respected pack. I imagined seeing them out of their kennels on a hunting day, yet, since we travel regularly to the Cotswolds in May, that wouldn’t happen.

While planning our third trip to Broadway, I couldn’t resist. I knew that the Joint-Master of the North Cotswold, Mr. Nigel Peel*, was a contributor to Foxhunting Life—in fact a member of FHL’s Panel of Experts. I asked editor Norman Fine if it would be impolite to ask to see the kennels. He kindly offered to introduce me by email to Mr. Peel, who bred this beautiful pack, hunts them himself, and whose reputation as a breeder and judge of foxhounds is universally renowned.

Fast forward: the phone rings in our Cotswold ‘cottage.’ It’s Nick Hopkins, kennel huntsman for the North Cotswold Foxhounds, calling on Mr. Peel’s behalf to invite me to walk out with the hounds on the twentieth of May at 7:45 a.m. Of course, I say. Thank you. Oh, mentions Nick, we’ll have a bike for you. A what? A bike. Oh, ok.... We hang up.

83-year-old Jack Lambert clears a double stone wall with the Carlow Farmers Foxhounds on his purebred Irish Draught hunter. Lambert is a regular visitor to the Genessee Valley Hounds (NY).  / Noel Mullins photo

Only the most able riders, the foolhardy, or unsuspecting visitors go to the Carlow Farmers Foxhounds meet at John A’s Pub in Glynn. Only in parts of Galway and North Mayo have I ever seen such a succession of double stone walls that must be jumped clean because they don’t collapse. Many more cannot be jumped clean, but have to be banked. A clever and athletic horse is needed, and a rider who hangs on the reins is doomed!

 The author (right) with (l-r) Field Master Jean Derrick and Master and huntsman Epp Wilson at the final meet

Snow may have crippled Atlanta, but the few inches that fell in Thomson, Georgia during Belle Meade's second annual "Gone Away with the Wind" Hunt Week (January 26 to February 2, 2014) did little to dampen the great foxhunting and lavish southern hospitality. The first day we arrived was warm and sunny, a welcome respite from a frozen Maryland. I was returning for a second awesome adventure with Belle Meade Hunt and had encouraged two more of my fellow Marlborough Hunt members to come down. Jayne Koester and her amateur-radio enthusiast husband Fred enlivened their trip by talking to all the Ham radio operators near Interstate 95 as they drove south. Following them was Gwen Alred, a member of both Marlborough and Potomac Hunt clubs, who also decided getting out of a frigid Maryland was a good idea.

Monday at 3:00 pm, after warm greetings from our southern hosts and welcoming remarks from MFHs Epp Wilson, Charlie Lewis, and Gary Wilkes, we quickly trotted across the road from the kennels and moved across open cattle fields. I was riding first flight behind my good friend, Belle Meade Field Master Jean Derrick, and it felt wonderful to be cantering across soft ground in informal ratcatcher attire!

Beagle huntsman Dalton Reeves

“My name is Dalton Reeves, I’m eighty years old and a retired high school football coach and teacher, originally from South Carolina,” our huntsman said, introducing himself to his field of foot-followers—mainly foxhunting guests and members participating in Belle Meade’s “Gone Away with the Wind” Hunt Week—some of whom were out beagling for the first time.

“I’m very happy to hear that I’m following an eighty-year-old huntsman,” I replied. “It means I’m not likely to get left too far behind, the prospect of which has been worrying me.”

“No worries,” Mr. Reeves assured me. “I’ve got two knee replacements and one new hip; I don’t travel too fast any more.”

That said, by the time Mr. Reeves brought the beagles in four hours later, I had been back to the deer camp meet three times to stick my boots into a fire blazing in an outdoor pit to thaw my toes. I also had a bite of breakfast and took a side trip with John McNeil, Sr. to the Rock House—thought to be the oldest house in the state of Georgia—previously a part of the McNeil property, over which the beagles were hunting, but now in the hands of the historical association. In between my retreats to comfort, I enjoyed along with the rest of the field several hours of hound music—some with voices that represented the beagle version of the booming “aroos” of the Penn-Marydel foxhound.

Epp Wilson, MFH and huntsman of the Belle Meade Hunt brings hounds to the first draw to kick off "Gone Away with the Wind" Hunt Week. Whippers-in Lucy Bell (left) and Natalie Gilmore flank the pack. / Lauren R. Giannini photo

“We have arranged to have ten coyotes on standby for your hunting pleasure today,” announced Joint-MFH Charlie Lewis as he welcomed guests to the opening meet of Belle Meade’s “Gone Away with the Wind” Hunt Week. It was Monday, January 27, 2014 in Thomson, Georgia. The footing was perfect and the sun was shining.

The following day it snowed, closing schools, paralyzing the Atlanta area, and prompting the governor to declare a state of emergency. The Belle Meade hosts were resilient, however, improvising substitute activities for members and guests for the very few events that had to be modified.

Hunt Week guests had come from the Blue Ridge Hunt (VA), Bull Run Hunt (VA), Golden’s Bridge Hounds (NY), Marlborough Hunt (MD), Millbrook Hunt (NY), Montreal Hunt (PQ), Moore County Hounds (NC), the Potomac Hunt (MD), Toronto and North York Hunt (ON), and the Whiskey Road Hounds (SC).

The Meet
The Belle Meade hounds typically meet at three o’clock in the afternoon. In the warmish environs of north Georgia, Senior Master and huntsman Epp Wilson likes to hunt as temperatures are dropping and scent is improving. Of course it often results in riders hacking back in the dark, and even jumping fences after sunset—an adventure in its own right for many followers!

Robert Taylor, MFH and huntsman of the Goshen Hounds, had a memorable hunt with hounds on New Year's Day.

Some days you simply wonder what the gods are thinking. Today, New Year’s Day, was a day that I simply could not hunt because of social obligations unrelated to the hunting world. No amount of explaining and squirming would have been adequate to allow me to meet with the Goshen Hounds (MD) today. Consequently, it was with some delight when I was finally able to quietly announce at about 2:00 pm that I thought I would "visit the kennels" for a short while.

When I arrived it was apparent the hounds were still in the field, so I drove to the usual draw down Middleton Lane and was greeted with the distant view of a whipper-in and the cheering of huntsman and Joint-Master Robert Taylor. I knew exactly where they were, but getting to them in my trusty Tahoe was a different matter. Undaunted, I proceeded on (in four wheel drive), but still could not quite make contact.

Several riders were coming in with tales of, "Wow! What a run! My horse is cooked!" In desperation, I gave up and headed to the kennels. Soon I was greeted with the sight of Robert and hounds coming in, and, oh, what tales they had to tell.

Colby Poe huffs and puffs on huntsman Ross Salter's hunting horn. Honorary whipper-in Denya Dee Leake tells the story.  / Michele Arnold photo

Ross Salter, first-season huntsman at Old Dominion Hounds (VA), and I came to the hunt three seasons ago. There were a few juniors in the field on a regular basis and always a good number on Junior Day. This year, however, the number of juniors on ordinary hunting days has increased dramatically, and Junior Day was a complete surprise to everyone.

We met at Copperfield Farm, between the village of Hume and the village of Orlean. The staff walked to the top of the hill with hounds and waited for the juniors to join us. They started coming up the hill, and they just kept coming and coming. We had juniors that were nearly adults, juniors that were just old enough to ride away from their parents, and some that were being led by their parents! In total we had fifty-two juniors surrounding the hounds.

Including the juniors we had a field of one hundred and nineteen riders. In all of Old Dominion’s history I do not believe that they have seen so many juniors in one place on perfectly behaved horses and ponies. The Masters, Gus Forbush, Dr. Scott Dove, and Douglas Wise-Stuart, each assigned certain kids to each staff member and to become Field Master. Each of us staff members had two kids with us at the beginning, and we slowly brought more kids up as the day went on.

So Why All the Juniors?

George Briscoe, MH of the Tara Harriers for 71 years, greets Charlie Noell of Ardbraccan House, County Meath, and the Elkridge-Harford Hunt (MD). / Noel Mullins photo

If there were a title of Grand Master of Hounds in our hunting world, George Briscoe would certainly fit the bill. This season George Briscoe hosted his seventy-fifth consecutive opening lawn meet of his beloved Tara Harriers at Craystown, County Meath. The occasion marked his seventy-first season as Joint-Master, making his period as Master and for a time huntsman a world record. Especially when you consider that the majority of the hunt followers were not even born when he succeeded his father in the Mastership in 1942 at age twenty-one.

George is one of nature’s gentlemen, with a broad welcoming smile, a kind word for everybody, and unbounded passions for hunting, the farming community, and the Tara Harriers. He never misses an opportunity to remind followers of the illustrious history of the Tara Harriers. His sitting-room window looks out onto the Hill of Tara, the royal seat of the High Kings of Ireland—probably the most important ancient site in Ireland, the history of which goes back as early as 5,000 BC. George has penned two books on the life of a country gentleman which is a record of life around the big house, hunting, shooting, and fishing, as well as a few racy references just for good measure!

George was a great friend of Betty Bird and her husband Charlie, who was Joint-Master of the Meath Foxhounds from 1956-59 when George was hunt chairman. Later he hunted with the Bird’s home pack, Mr. Stewart’s Cheshire Foxhounds in Pennsylvania, USA. Interestingly one of George’s neighbours, Anne Kelly, left Ireland to work with Betty Bird producing horses for showing and hunting and settled in Pennsylvania. She married racehorse trainer Michael Moran whose mother Betty owned the Aintree Grand National winner, Papillion.  Anne is now a Joint-Master of Mr. Stewart’s Cheshire Foxhounds.

 Andrews Bridge first-year huntsman Adam Townsend praises hounds for their work. Mounted rider is whipper-in Charlie Fleischmann.

Adam Townsend joined the Andrews Bridge Foxhounds (PA) this past April as its first professional huntsman in many years. Adam came to us from the Elkridge-Harford Hunt (MD) where he served as first whipper-in for the last three seasons. Since his arrival he has been working diligently with our pack of Black & Tan Penn-Marydels. Each day’s hunting has shown excellent sport but on Monday, October 28, 2013, Adam's efforts were rewarded with a red letter day.

Pony Field meets coyote / Gretchen Pelham photo

I was standing on the line with my helmet off, pointing into the woods after the coyote. The lead hound, Ariat (a black and tan Penn-Marydel), came up the little rise and opened when she hit the line true. The rest of the pack was with her and off they went. Only a few seconds later, huntsman Ryan Johnsey flew past us over the coop next to our gate.

I was leading what I dubbed the Pony Field at our cub hunt at Tennessee Valley Hunt’s Big Valley fixture. I had only two other members in my field, but all three of us were on ponies. One of the girls was a junior, and the other had turned eighteen only a few months earlier.

I decided to stay out of the woods and follow the lake’s edge since the coyote had been circling around the whole day. My junior asked, “Is the coyote circling because this is his home territory? Because if he was just passing through then he would have run straight out of country, right?” Wow. The girls have been listening to me jabber on about hunting!