Horse & Hound
The Cheshire in Winter
I can get lost in a photo like this. There is so much to see and so much that is felt rather than seen. In the foreground are huntsman Ivan Dowling and whipper-in Stephanie Boyer, obviously communicating. Hounds, though bright and lively, are squinting to keep the snow out of their eyes. The horses and riders in the field behind, sharing the cameraderie of nature’s excess, are softened and silenced by the thickly falling snowflakes into what looks more like a painting than a photograph. Photographer Diana Rowland gives us a good one! Posted January 28, 2013
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Thoroughbreds: Kings of the Hunting Field
Nina Siepel on Steppenwolfer, out with the Cheshire hounds this year
Consider the happy life of Steppenwolfer (by Aptitude out of Wolfer): lots of treats; a big field with clover and buddies; and, from September to March, running around the countryside with a lot of other horses chasing a pack of hounds. A far distance from running third to Barbaro (by Dynaformer out of La Ville Rouge) in the Kentucky Derby and second in the Arkansas Derby in 2006.
Gelded and purchased by Gail and Dixon Thayer as a steeplechase prospect, his short steeplechase career wasn’t as stellar as hoped for. But he’s one happy puppy now. And Nina Siepel, who hunts him with Mr. Stewart’s Cheshire Foxhounds (PA), always wears a big grin, as if she still can’t really believe her good fortune. I’m not sure who is the luckier of the two.
Gone-Away-With-the-Wind Hunt Week
Belle Meade Hunt Week attracted a happy throng of visitors. / Bella Vita Fotografie photo
Masters and members of the Belle Meade Hunt in Thomson, Georgia celebrated their Hunt Week with an event-packed schedule for friends and guests from Monday, January 14 through Saturday, January 20, 2013. The week featured three days with the Belle Meade hounds and a day each with the Aiken Hounds and the Why Worry Hounds. Stirrup cups, hunt breakfasts, and optional trail rides were featured, and the week finished up in style with the annual Hunt Ball.
Here’s Robbie Gilmore’s report on the sport shown by the Belle Meade hounds during their first two days in the field:
Naturalist’s Notebook: The Coyote
Jim Duggan photoAs a followup to Mark Twain’s rollicking description of the coyote and Susan Walker’s report on the Longreen Foxhound’s recent coyote chase, here’s further information about that secretive animal that provides so many North American hunts with their sport. I’m unable to provide a source reference for this excellent bit of wood lore, but if any reader recognizes it and can identify the source, we will publish that information in a future issue.
The coyote, Canis latrans, with its many varieties, known also as brush wolf and prairie wolf, is widespread and well known.
I sometimes think that the most conspicuous coyote sign is his night song. Certainly a camp on the plains in the Southwest or in the western mountains is cozier when enhanced by the serenade of coyote in the moonlight. He who would follow the mammals in the wilds should know something of the significance of this. Unaccustomed ears, trained by traditional journalism, might interpret the coyote voice as something doleful, a sad requiem that makes one crowd closer to the campfire. Or a flippant tongue might speak of the "yapping" of the coyotes.
But if the coyote could reflect and speak he would say this is his song, simply that. However it may appear to human ears, to the coyote it satisfies the universal impulse for expression of emotion, simple as that may sometimes be among furred animals.
Drawing for a Fox, the Huntsman Catches a Wife
The newly engaged couple, Francesca Harding and Blue Ridge huntsman Guy Allman, return to the meet at the end of a surprising day. / Nancy Kleck photoBlue Ridge huntsman Guy Allman transformed last Saturday’s well-attended Junior Meet from just another great day in the field to far loftier levels. He chose a moment during his first draw to propose marriage to Francesca Harding. The lady said, “Yes,” and Allman presented her with a ring.
This was no spur-of-the-moment proposal I was to learn. The day’s affair was a premeditated, meticulously planned campaign of romance on the huntsman’s part that warmed even the hearts of the grizzled and jaundiced old-timers in the field.
Coyotes and Lasagne: The Noble Art in America
Coyote takes refuge after nine-and-a-half miles across country / Pam Gamble photo
The Longreen Foxhounds met at Eastover Plantation in Clarksdale, Mississippi on Saturday, January 5, 2012 under a light rain and gentle wind in thirty-eight degree temperatures. While most riders opted for raincoats, whipper-In Chip Carruthers boldly rode out in his scarlet.
Hounds moved off at 10:00 am just as the rain was stopping. Blue skies opened over the first covert—the Cigar Woods. Hounds trotted the mile across the turn row from trailers to woods, with the field branching off to the west. Staff was already in position. Hounds have been known to erupt in full cry on coyote once inside woods and always in full cry by the southern end of this covert.
Not so this day. Cigar Woods, blank. Swamp Woods, blank. Hounds were picked up and hacked down Reinhart Rd to the Twin Woods. Blank. Now overcast with temperature rising slowly.
A Christmas Eve Hunt
Joe Bills / Monica Powell photoThis excellent hunting morning started early, as I arose at 5:00 am to check the forecast and discuss it with Carrollton Hounds MFH and huntsman Dulany Noble. Being "the weather guy" in the hunt, I checked radar and several different weather services as sleet had been predicted the night before. The precipitation had been shoved back so we decide to give it a go.
I drove out to the barn to prepare Joe, Jr. for the day’s hunt. Luckily my barn is within hacking distance from the fixture, so I got him ready and tacked up. We went up the driveway, down into the bottom, back up through the neighbor’s and up to Begg Road. We saw a family out walking with a small child and stopped to wish them a Merry Christmas. We paused to give the child her first encounter with a horse. Then on we went up the road. I enjoyed the view from the ridge, looking over the farms of Maryland’s Carroll County and seeing the houses decorated for the season. The skies grew steel grey as the morning progressed, portending the coming precipitation. The air was heavy and winds slight.
The East Galway Foxhounds at Taughmaconnell
Joe Cavanagh, MFH flies a stone wall / Noel Mullins photo
A Dublin-based journalist once wrote that the only way you would find the village of Taughmaconnell in County Roscommon was if you took a wrong turn! But this is far from the truth, and in fairness he later wrote that if one wanted a world free from distraction, then Taughmaconnell was the place!
The Coyote, An “Allegory of Want”
Here is the funniest, most perceptive, and penetrating description of the coyote that I have ever read! Excerpted from "Roughing It," a collection of Mark Twain's experiences while traveling through the Wild West by mule wagon between 1861 and 1867. From the Foxhunting Life archives.
Jim Duggan photo
Another night of alternate tranquility and turmoil. But morning came, by and by. It was another glad awakening to fresh breezes, vast expanses of level greensward, bright sunlight, and impressive solitude utterly without human beings or human habitations, and an atmosphere of such amazing properties that trees that seemed close at hand were more than three miles away.
We resumed undress uniform, climbed atop of the flying coach, dangled our legs over the side, shouted occasionally at our frantic mules, merely to see them lay their ears back and scamper faster, tied our hats on to keep our hair from blowing away, and leveled an outlook over the world-wide carpet about us for things new and strange to gaze at. Even at this day it thrills me through and through to think of the life, the gladness, and the wild sense of freedom that used to make the blood dance in my veins on those fine overland mornings!
Along about an hour after breakfast we saw the first prairie-dog villages, the first antelope, and the first wolf. If I remember rightly, this latter was the regular coyote (pronounced ky-o-te) of the farther deserts. And if it was, he was not a pretty creature or respectable either, for I got well acquainted with his race afterward, and can speak with confidence.
The Coyote: An Allegory of “Want”
Jim Duggan photo
Here is the funniest, most perceptive and penetrating description of the coyote that I have ever read! Excerpted from Roughing It, a collection of Mark Twain's experiences while prospecting and reporting in the Wild West between 1861 and 1867.
Another night of alternate tranquility and turmoil. But morning came, by and by. It was another glad awakening to fresh breezes, vast expanses of level greensward, bright sunlight, and impressive solitude utterly without human beings or human habitations, and an atmosphere of such amazing properties that trees that seemed close at hand were more than three miles away.
We resumed undress uniform, climbed atop of the flying coach, dangled our legs over the side, shouted occasionally at our frantic mules, merely to see them lay their ears back and scamper faster, tied our hats on to keep our hair from blowing away, and leveled an outlook over the world-wide carpet about us for things new and strange to gaze at. Even at this day it thrills me through and through to think of the life, the gladness, and the wild sense of freedom that used to make the blood dance in my veins on those fine overland mornings!
Along about an hour after breakfast we saw the first prairie-dog villages, the first antelope, and the first wolf. If I remember rightly, this latter was the regular coyote (pronounced ky-o-te) of the farther deserts. And if it was, he was not a pretty creature or respectable either, for I got well acquainted with his race afterward, and can speak with confidence.
