Warrenton Hunt: 125 Years through Leadership and Landowner Relations
125th anniversary joint meet for both the Warrenton and the Deep Run Hunts (VA). Front, l-r: Warrenton huntsman Matt van der Woude and Deep Run huntsman Richard Roberts / Douglas Lees photo
Celebration of any centennial is not just a major milestone, it is an achievement in survival. This season Warrenton Hunt marked 125 years of sporting tradition and, making this anniversary even more special, the future of this American pack of foxhounds looks rosy. Leadership and landowner relations are two key elements, according to Rick Laimbeer, who returned to the Mastership after a brief hiatus. He had only good things to say about Warrenton’s newly minted Joint-Masters Celeste Vella and Kim Nash, along with discussing how the board has been infused with fresh energy and vigor.
The Masters
“Celeste Vella and Kim Nash are both extremely bright and well-organized,” said Laimbeer. “Celeste is an attorney. She’s a very clear thinker, personable and well-liked, and a good rider. She has a daughter who is also an excellent young rider. They are vital to the whole junior connection. Celeste is also very talented in the business-sense and has an extremely artistic flair; she has great taste and does all the decorating for all of our functions.
The Horsemen of Wexford
Lillian Doyle, five-times ladies point-to-point champion, out with the Wexford from a meet at her father’s pub / Noel Mullins photo
What better place to end the season than with the Wexford Foxhounds at John Jude Doyle’s Cloch Ban Pub in Clonroche, County Wexford? Inside there is a picture on the wall of Bree Foxhounds Joint-Master Jay Bowe having a drink sitting on his horse beside the bar!
Doyle is a director of The Irish Horse Board and Horse Sport Ireland, and one can see why. He has an infectious enthusiasm about the Irish horse as a breeder, producer, and organiser of schools, shows, and gymkhanas. He has campaigned his Irish Draught mare Cloghbawn Cailin and her filly Cloghbawn Liaght on the show circuit. Doyle’s daughter Lillian won the Ladies Point-to-Point Jockey Championship five times. His uncle Jim Joyce bred Parkhill, evented by the late Col. Ronnie MacMahon, and his track greyhound Temple na Dubh won seven nights in succession in Shelbourne Park!
Master and huntsman Mary Kehoe is gifted as a handler of horses and hounds and has hunted the Wexford Foxhounds for nine seasons and the Bree Foxhounds for the last twenty-three seasons, hunting hounds four days a week. Her sister Muriel whips in to her. Their father Owen was Field Master of the Island and hunted the Bree. The other whippers-in are Michael Condon, a formidable rider, and former jockey Padraig English, who won three races on the great steeplechaser Danoli. All of them hunt across country on a simple mathematical principle: the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, and whatever obstacle is on that line is crossed regardless of complexity! But they can because they produce and ride only the very best hunt horses.
Night Hunt
His eyes popped open in the dim light cast by the banked fire. For a moment the bed felt strange and then he remembered—Angharad’s house—and there she slept, turned away from him, breathing slowly. He was wide awake and on the alert.
What woke me? The snow was deep on the ground, muffling any outside noises. No cars were here to disturb him, and he was still getting used to the absence of the sounds of human civilization. He cataloged what he could hear—the tick of the embers in the fireplace, the occasional creak of the floorboards as they adjusted to temperature changes, Angharad’s soft breaths.
Then it came again. Muffled barks of excitement. He looked over at his dogs by the fire. Sargent, the yellow feist, was motionless except for his chest rising and falling, but Hugo, the bluetick hound was quivering in his sleep, his paws twitching as he ran. He panted and yipped, his eyes closed. No wonder it woke me, he thought.
George had no trouble interpreting the real sound behind Hugo’s dream, the loud, deep bays as he followed a hot scent. That cry would ring off a hillside, but here it was, indoors, just a remnant to wake him in the night.
Thornton Hill Fort Valley Hounds Kick Off Virginia Race Season
In the Junior Field Masters Chase, Brett Jackson, MFH leads (l-r) Erin Swope on Jordan, Kelly Witte on Missy (small pony winner), and Emme Fullilove on Sparta (large pony winner). / Douglas Lees photo
Thornton Hill Fort Valley Hounds opened the Virginia point-to-point season on Saturday, March 2, 2013 at Thornton Hill Farm in Sperryville. The first race, the Field Masters Chase for horses and small and large ponies, was followed by four races over hurdles, two flat races, and three timber races.
Kelly Witte on Missy, last year’s leading small pony, came to the wire six lengths behind the large ponies and won her division. Last year’s large pony champion Jordan ran just behind the Field Master but lost his rider Erin Swope at the last fence, giving Sparta the win with Emme Fullilove aboard. Emme also won the division for horses on GR’s Prize, holding off Erin Swope’s Sweet Talking Guy in the stretch. Bay Cockburn saddled both winners.
The Silver Horn
Colonel John Weatherford, MFH / Illustration by Eleanor Iselin MasonGordon Grand is one of my favorite sporting authors, and his short story, “The Silver Horn,” is one of my favorite foxhunting stories. The reader is transported, in the early part of the twentieth century, to “that venerable hotel on Albemarle Street” in London, which we may readily assume is Brown’s Hotel. Colonel John Weatherford, MFH is relating Florence’s story as she told it to him upon their chance meeting in the hotel dining room after breakfast. I have extracted just the kernel of the story to reproduce here.
Returning from the theater and supper [Florence] had drifted off into a sound sleep, from which she was gently and fancifully awakened without sensing the cause. Her watch showed three o’clock. The roar and rumble of London had faded to its lowest murmur. A midsummer moon filtered through and illuminated the street below. What was it that had so illusively awakened the sleeper? Again she listened. The faint mellow note of a hunting horn drifted up from Piccadilly.
The Silver Horn
Colonel John Weatherford, MFH by Eleanor Iselin MasonGordon Grand is one of my favorite sporting authors, and his short story, “The Silver Horn,” is one of my favorite foxhunting stories. The reader is transported, in the early part of the twentieth century, to “that venerable hotel on Albemarle Street” in London, which we may readily assume is Brown’s Hotel. Colonel John Weatherford, MFH is relating Florence’s story as she told it to him upon their chance meeting in the hotel dining room after breakfast. I have extracted just the kernel of the story to reproduce here.
Returning from the theater and supper [Florence] had drifted off into a sound sleep, from which she was gently and fancifully awakened without sensing the cause. Her watch showed three o’clock. The roar and rumble of London had faded to its lowest murmur. A midsummer moon filtered through and illuminated the street below. What was it that had so illusively awakened the sleeper? Again she listened. The faint mellow note of a hunting horn drifted up from Piccadilly.
The Silver Horn
Colonel John Weatherford, MFH / Illustration by Eleanor Iselin MasonThis week’s Bonus article, free to all, no subscription necessary. Gordon Grand is one of my favorite sporting authors, and his short story, “The Silver Horn,” is one of my favorite foxhunting stories. The reader is transported, in the early part of the twentieth century, to “that venerable hotel on Albemarle Street” in London, which we may readily assume is Brown’s Hotel. Colonel John Weatherford, MFH is relating Florence’s story as she told it to him upon their chance meeting in the hotel dining room after breakfast. I have extracted just the kernel of the story to reproduce here.
Returning from the theater and supper [Florence] had drifted off into a sound sleep, from which she was gently and fancifully awakened without sensing the cause. Her watch showed three o’clock. The roar and rumble of London had faded to its lowest murmur. A midsummer moon filtered through and illuminated the street below. What was it that had so illusively awakened the sleeper? Again she listened. The faint mellow note of a hunting horn drifted up from Piccadilly.
Guilt by Association
We recently ran an article by Anne Hambleton titled “Thoroughbreds: Kings of the Hunting Field.” The article received many enthusiastic Comments and was posted by readers through the social media. Yet despite all the enthusiasm and warm feelings the article generated for this majestic breed, one Thoroughbred retirement organization may have lost the support of an important donor.
Anne wrote about some famous race horses—Steppenwolfer, McDynamo, Lonesome Glory, Private Attack, Buck Jakes—who found second homes in the hunting field. Those horses loved foxhunting, and their riders, sitting atop a fleet, supremely athletic, and bottomless horse that moves like a cloud would have it no other way. Anne made a case for the breed, and she also encouraged foxhunters to look at some of the wonderful candidates available at the many Thoroughbred rescue organizations.
One major retirement organization mentioned the Foxhunting Life article on their Facebook page and proudly told of some of the racetrack retirees they have successfully re-homed for second careers as field hunters. They received several positive responses, then heard from a long-time major donor who left a negative comment about foxhunting being a cruel sport and threatened to stop donating to the organization. Guilt by association.
University Students Promote Foxhunting
A group of students—foxhunting enthusiasts—at Greater Exeter University in the UK decided to introduce their non-hunting friends to the sport. They elected an MFH, appointed one of their members to be the fox, and fixed the time and place of the meet at one side of the campus. Any student with a bicycle was encouraged […]
I’m Outta Here
Jane Ramsey from the Lewisville Hunt sent us this photo of a flying fox in a beautiful Pennsylvania landscape. It was snapped by her friend David Amos who hunts on foot with his camera.