The value of the foxhunter’s riding experience was well demonstrated on April 6 when Ward Union Staghounds hunt follower and amateur rider Nina Carberry won the 250,000 Euro ($350,000) 3 miles 5 furlong Irish Grand National on a horse named Organisedconfusion at Fairyhouse Racecourse in County Meath. She prevailed against top National Hunt jockeys, including Ruby Walsh and recently crowned sixteen-times British Champion Jockey A.P. McCoy.
Jeanne & Allen Forney / Karen Kandra Wenzel photoHow often do we get the opportunity to celebrate the seventieth birthday of a foxhunting legend while he (or she) is still an active and constant contributor to the sport? A large group of friends---Masters, huntsmen, and foxhunters--- representing most of the foxhunting clubs in central Maryland did exactly that on Sunday, April 10 at the Potomac Hunt in Barnesville, Maryland.
From ancient times to the recent past, most family histories were preserved by story-telling from generation to generation. Today, with families spread across continents, if not around the world, and no one living next to the old folks to even hear their stories, how are family histories to be preserved?
Karin Winegar has a solution. She provides a unique service which she calls "Histories for Horsepeople." Karin writes and produces privately published family or hunt histories meant as special gifts for family, friends, business associates, and/or members. She describes herself as "sort of a private family scribe."
I spent a grand week in Aiken, South Carolina recently and had a chance to hunt with George and Jeannie Thomas, MFHs of the Why Worry Hounds (See Hunt Report below). I stayed with my friend Art Richardson, ex-MFH of the Wayne-Du Page Hunt in Illinois. Art hunts with the Aiken packs and brings his two grand-daughters, Mackenzie and Virginia, to visit and hunt with him as often as possible. Life is good for us.
Well...for most of us. For Art’s son Michael, life could be better. Michael is a horseman and was a foxhunter in his younger years. At the age of twenty, Michael was involved in an automobile accident that left him paralyzed from the waist down. That’s not the current problem, though.
Clifford Hunt, a genuine old horseman and a passionate foxhunter, passed away on December 2, 2010 at age eighty-four. I can’t begin to tally the number of individuals whose lives this man changed. He was a teacher who created many dedicated foxhunters. He was a hosteller, and, with his wife and partner Laura, he provided visiting foxhunters with bed, meals, hirelings, and transport at his well-known Hunting Box in Boyce, Virginia for twenty-six years (1978–2004). Sportsmen came to The Hunting Box from Canada and all the northern states to experience foxhunting in Virginia. Many loved it so much they moved here.
Sporting photographer Jim Meads achieved a personal milestone and undoubtedly established a world record on December 5, 2010 when he photographed the Loudoun West Hunt near Leesburg, Virginia. This was the five hundredth unique hunt that Meads has photographed over the course of a career spanning sixty years.
Meads, who lives in Wales, follows hunts on foot and in vehicles and always seems to appear where the action is, even before the mounted followers arrive. His long legs and astounding endurance has allowed him to capture many of the greatest action shots of foxhunting ever recorded on film. He has photographed hunts in England, Ireland, Canada, and the U.S.
Amwell Valley huntsman Steve Farrin blew a flawless set of horn calls to best two-time winner John Tabachka and claim the 2010 North American Horn Blowing Championship. Contestants were asked to blow Moving Off, Gone Away, Gone to Ground, and Going Home. The judges proclaimed a tie after the first round, and Farrin and Tabachka were called back to blow one more call of their own choosing. Tabachka blew Going Home, demonstrating amazing control of the stretched out and slowly modulated volume, but Farrin won the night with his Gone Away.
Hounds were screaming, and the huntsman was cooking. A cattle guard loomed ahead—a coop to the left and a gate to the right. The huntsman veered left.
"Melvin," someone yelled, "the gate’s on the right!"
"Melvin just kept kicking on, right over the coop," recalled Joe Conner, shaking his head and grinning in wonder.
Conner, who has whipped-in to Melvin for years at Bath County (VA), didn’t resurrect that story out of a distant past. It had happened only weeks before Melvin Poe’s ninetieth birthday celebration.
A month or so earlier, I had recognized the same notes of awe and wonder as I stood chatting with Brian Smith, my farrier, about Melvin’s upcoming ninetieth birthday.