Behind Enemy Lines
Click photo for larger view Photographer Jim Duggan was perfectly positioned to catch this clever coyote stealthily sneaking behind the field of the Golden’s Bridge Hounds (NY) at Vaile Lane. Posted November 28, 2014
A Son Remembers Essex Fox Hounds’ Tribute to His Father
Columnist Russ Hannah, writing for NorthJersey.com, recalls the day the Essex Fox Hounds (NJ) paid tribute to Bert Hannah, his late father. Bert wasn’t a foxhunter, a landowner, or a captain of industry. He was, writes Russ, an “ordinary man who had once been a Minnesota lumberjack with a third-grade education, if that.”
Bert was a caretaker on a large estate near the Brady estate and Hamilton Farms. The latter represented five thousand acres, constituting the primary Essex hunting country. The former, Martha Brookes Hutcheson’s estate of 104 acres, where Bert Hannah served as caretaker, was closed to the hunt by the owner as the result of a fallen rider being seriously injured there years earlier.
Nevertheless, Bert Hannah was an animal person. He bred field trial beagles—one a 1963 National Champion, Longview Susie at left in news photo with two of her offspring. And he loved horses.
Bert was always friendly to the Essex riders, stopping to talk as they went by. Any injured or lost foxhound that passed Bert’s way was taken in by him, fed, and cared for before being returned to kennels.
See You at Second Horses
See You at Second Horses, Barclay Rives, Aterlerix Press, New York, 2014, Paperback, illustrated, 184 pages, $13.50, available at retail outlets including Horse Country Saddlery, Warrenton, VirginiaThe foxes! Oh, the foxes! When Barclay Rives undertook a marathon of foxhunting in 1999, when he went out with nine English hunts in ten days, it seemed like there was a fox popping out of every covert.
Rives, an honorary whipper-in for the Keswick and Bull Run Hunts (VA), writes about his English sporting adventure in See You at Second Horses, a delightful read that puts us galloping behind some great packs in the glory days before the infamous Hunting Act of 2004 banned hunting with hounds in the traditional manner in England and Wales.
Rives is an avid hunter who once hunted one hundred days a season, sometimes going out with Keswick in the morning and Bull Run in the afternoon. Saying he was gung-ho is an understatement. He jumped at the chance to join his friends Grosvenor and Rosie Merle-Smith to hunt with packs dating back to the 1700s: the Quorn (twice), the Cottesmore, the Fernie, and others, including a foot pack—the High Peak Harriers—after rabbits.
My First Opening Meet
One of the quiet moments in Carla Lake’s first Opening Meet
My first Opening Meet has been about a year in the making, and I can hardly believe I’m here. By here, I mean standing on top of a log, cursing my horse, who, instead of standing quietly for me to remount, has decided to leap over the log while I try to stay calm and not burst into tears.
It’s been a trying weekend so far.
My borrowed horse, Seven Up, is completely sick of me after I spent a total of six hours Friday night and Saturday morning grooming the living bejezus out of him. Up to this point, I never had to braid for any kind of equestrian event, so on Friday night I arrive at the barn around 6:30, brush and bathe him, and separate his mane into little sections.
Images of Opening Meet
Here’s a poetic kaleidoscope of Opening Meet images conjured up by Martha Drum the evening before, while braiding her horse and cleaning her tack.
Opening Meet! Hounds assemble
Veterans chitchat, newbies tremble
Chilly wind, sky clear blue
Scent on frost, turning dew
Youngest rider nods and yawns
Oldest recalls many such dawns
Gents and ladies grin and greet
Ponies yank to reach and eat
Scarlet coats, mounts in braids
Flasks, in case courage fades
Some in perfect kit adorned
Others serviceably well-worn
Green horse wheels and tries to buck
Old horse naps beside the truck
Old Chatham Rising
Newly appointed Old Chatham MFH Jef Murdock tells how it feels to hunt hounds for the very first time. / Nancy Kleck photoOn a recent Saturday the Old Chatham Hunt (NY) had a rare hunting day. Hounds ran their first coyote hard for an hour before huntsman and staff had to stop them from going into country where it was difficult to follow. Hounds then found another coyote and ran it through their wooded country in fine voice for another forty-five minutes to finish an excellent day of hunting. What’s remarkable about that? one might ask. Nothing, except that the huntsman had never hunted a pack of hounds before in his life until that day.
At the end of last season, Old Chatham members made some difficult and controversial organizational changes in an effort to improve their sport. A new huntsman—Tommy Hopkins—was named, and a new Master—Jef Murdock—was appointed. Hopkins had been whipping-in for years and was familiar with the hounds, but Murdock, though he’d been following hounds as a field member for years, was better known for his skiing acumen—he owns the popular Butternut ski area in the Berkshire Mountains of Massachusetts—than for his prowess with foxhounds.
Consensus at Green Creek: A Barnburner!
Huntsman Tot Goodwin and the Green Creek Hounds / Erik Olsen photo
It’s always fun to hear a day’s hunting described by different members of the hunt. Years ago I would ask Mrs. A how the day had been, and she would assure me, “They ran and screamed all day.” When Mr. B was queried, he said, “They had a bit of a flurry.” When Mr. C was asked the same question, “They didn’t do a thing.” This past Thursday, however, everyone at Green Creek Hounds (Carolinas) agreed it was a barnburner!
Hounds met at Coxe Road where a few of the young entry thought the deer they saw were worth a go. Puppies were reprimanded, and they hacked obediently through the woods to East Green Creek Road. It was a cool, misty morning with great scenting conditions. This is known as coyote country. Tot sent the pack into covert and allowed them to trail for ten or fifteen minutes, and then they opened. All hounds were on (thirty couple), and the cry was ear-splitting.
Country Captain
With the formal hunting season upon us, it’s time to add new hunt breakfast recipes to our collection! The following recipe, sent to us by Bill Getchell, comes with an interesting history and a connection to a famous American foxhunting general and Master of Foxhounds. We have a wonderful resource of recipes (point your cursor to the Social dropdown menu), and we invite your additions.
Country Captain has been a staple of southern cooking since the first half of the nineteenth century. Originating in India, the name may be a corruption of Country “Capon.” Legend has it that a British sea captain in the spice trade brought it to the United States through the ports of Savannah and Charleston.
Mary (“Miss Mamie”) Bullard of Columbus, Georgia revived the recipe for her frequent guest, Franklin D. Roosevelt, and later served it up for Army officers passing through nearby Fort Benning, including the Master of the Cobbler Hunt, General George S. Patton. In the early days of World War II, Patton sent a message to the Bullards: “If you can’t give me a party and have Country Captain, meet me at the train with a bucket of it.” In Patton’s honor the U.S. Army added it to the Meal, Ready-to-Eat (“MREs”) rations in 2000.
See You at Second Horses
This hunt report—a short but informative excerpt from Chapter 3 of Barclay Rive’s new book, See You at Second Horses—harks back fifteen years to when Barclay accompanied Rosie and Grosvenor Merle-Smith to England. The book recounts their hunting adventures during that trip and is available from Horse Country Saddlery, Warrenton, Virginia.
At the time, Grosvenor was Master and huntsman of the Bull Run Hunt (VA), and Barclay whipped-in to him. Barclay also whipped-in to the Keswick Hunt (VA)—sometimes to both hunts on the same day when Keswick met in the morning and Bull Run in the afternoon!
The author on Bruno at the Fernie meet at Billesdon / Rosie Merle-Smith photo
Julie and Colin brought our horses down the ramp out of the box. We had our first experience of what became a familiar routine: stepping up the ramp and using it as a mounting block for the horse led up beside it. I usually had to shorten my stirrups. Colin had to hold on to the horse’s head until I was done, because they were ready to go as soon as they felt weight in the saddle. Julie gave me instructions as I mounted a big bay.
“This is Bruno. He prefers a longer rein to a shorter one. He hunts with the Fernie every Saturday, so he knows his job.” This was her diplomatic way of telling me to stay off of the horse’s mouth and let him take care of me. I thought Bruno looked like he should be pulling a cart, but I was ignorant. He was a brilliant field hunter. An excellent teacher, Bruno was what American horse dealers call a packer, meaning he could pack me around as if I were a sack of grain. He was calm at checks, but ready to run and jump when the need arose. Sporting author Michael Clayton in Endangered Species reports that English foxhunters say the ideal hunting horse should have “the head of a duchess and the arse of a cook.” Bruno had plenty of muscle behind, and while his head was hardly elegant, he possessed beautiful brains.
Grosvenor, Rosie and I headed down the road where hounds had gone. Julie called to us, “See you at Second Horses.”
Three Convicted of Foxhunting in England
Persuaded by evidence furnished to the court by investigators from the League Against Cruel Sports (LACS), an English judge found three men from one of that country’s foremost hunts guilty of illegally hunting the fox. Joint-Master Timothy Windham Basil Smalley, MFH; huntsman Ian McKie; and kennel huntsman Andrew Proe of the College Valley North Northumberland […]