The music of the pack is it’s

 

 

CRY!

 

 

Nov 2000

 

 

 

“I have lived my life; I am nearly done;

I have played the game all round;

But I freely admit that the best of my fun,

I owe it to Horse and Hound.”

 

G H Whyte Melville

 

 

Let’s forget, just for one moment, the wet and the weather and the dreadful state of farming and the countryside. Let’s forget the politicians and the threats to our sport and concentrate on the fact that Now is the Hour and this is our season, the hunting season, with five months of sport ahead of us. As Whyte Melville’s poem continues:

 

“With a hopeful heart and a conscience clear,I can laugh in your face,Black Care! Though you’re hovering near, there’s no room for you here, On the back of my good grey mare.”

 

Let’s all surrender ourselves to enjoying the sport that we love by whatever method is chosen or enforced upon us: horse, car, bike, foot or just hearing others describing the goings on. All too soon it will be back to the realities of life, but a day’s hunting is a day’s hunting.

 

Various Hunts – and we have done in the past – publish long lists of “Do’s and Don’ts in the Hunting Field.” [One Hunt even suggests, to my personal horror, that smoking should be banned…] It is, perhaps, correct to be reminded of such things occasionally but in reality the whole process can be summed up by the simple phrase Good Manners.

 

It is good manners to be polite and cheerful; to thank people for their actions, time and patience. It is good manners to let the hunt staff and non hunting people through, and to thank those that you have held up. It is good manners to do as you are asked. It is good manners to avoid damage to crops and to repair damage to fences.

 

It is bad manners to block roads, to obstruct non hunting cars, to park on mown verges, to keep your engine running when hounds are near, to park your horsebox on the main road by Burton’s Wood, or blocking the Emral Drive, or on the Malpas to Threapwood road [oh yes; we’ve got your names & numbers!] Well, you get the message; one of the battles that we are fighting is that of public relations, and good manners cost nothing; give freely of them.

 

So let’s enjoy ourselves in our own individual ways; and what a lot there is to enjoy. As well as hunting there are the various social events, with London’s finest lawyers already preparing for the inevitable litigation arising from the Hunt Entertainment. As you will see inside, the human equivalent of Puppy Walking – the Pony Club –  has had a wonderful year and goes from strength to strength. 

 

I have, as they say, ‘hunted around a bit.’ I often feel that it should be a condition of subscription that all followers should be made to exchange a day’s hunting with a follower of a different pack. This would be doubly beneficial. It would allow others to come and enjoy our exceptional country and, more importantly, as you drove home from a day with the Wheatland, or the Tedworth, or – perhaps for someone who has committed a dreadful offence – the York & Ainsty, you would have time to pause and reflect on the excellence of our Country, our Farmers, our Masters, our Hounds and, of course, our Hunt Supporters Club.  As always

 

HAPPY HUNTING

 

 

FROM THE RETIRING CHAIRMAN

 

Well, the Hunt Supporters Club has done it again! During the period since the last Cry the areas have held Cross Country Rides – sadly Area III having to cancel theirs due to the never ceasing tears from heaven! But Areas I and II struggled on to run their rides, Area I on a very wet day and Area II on a lovely day with very wet ground underfoot. Many thanks to all the farmers who allowed them to continue with the running of these events.

 

Since last writing, you as a Hunt Supporter’s Club have given further assistance to the Hunt to help with the running costs of the incinerator. This is a huge cost and it is good that we are able to assist where we can.

 

By the time that you read this I will no longer be your Chairman and I can only hope that my successor enjoys the position as much as I have. The support I have received from all areas and committee members has been amazing. It really is not a difficult job because the areas run all their own functions and provide the funds in order for the Central Committee to be able to respond to requests from the Hunt when necessary.

 

Good Luck to our new Chairman Elizabeth Hanmer – the only advice that I can give is to remember what our title means – The Hunt Supporters Club is there to support the Hunt – and long may it continue!

 

Jeannie Chantler

 

AREA I (WREXHAM)

 

Area I have enjoyed a very successful fund raising year and hopefully enabled lots of riders to enjoy their hobby, one way or another!

 

The gymkhana at Bryn-y-Pys, Overton on Dee was great fun this year.  The day was extremely hot, which makes a pleasant change, as it usually rains for this show! It was an extremely busy day but it really is lovely to see all the children taking part and enjoying themselves. This year we had lots of adults competing in the show jumping too, thanks to Gerald and Craig’s super courses.

 

The summer party at Parky Lodge Farm was a lovely social evening. It’s great to see so many people who we do not often see outside of hunting. The Fun Ride however was something else! The weather was a complete contrast to the Show in May; it began to rain approximately two weeks before and does not appear to have stopped yet. However the ride was lovely with lots of optional jumps and we hope that most riders enjoyed themselves. All that mud gave us a good taste of things to come with this season’s hunting – thank goodness for hot baths and washing machines!

 

The Area I Committee have worked really hard again this year as the profits from these three events show – we have raised just over £2,800. Special thanks go to the Rosselli family for the continued use of Bryn-y-Pys, Ann and Brian Jones for the use of their home for the summer party and the Wynnstay Estate and all the farmers who allow us on their land for the Fun Ride, even more so this year due to the extremely wet ground. We are indebted to these people; without them these events would be impossible.

 

“Thank you all very, very much.”

 

 

Linda Maurice

 

AREA II (WHITCHURCH)

 

As a result of keeping his nerve Charlie Barnett arranged yet another excellent cross country ride at the beginning of October. Mr and Mrs Brodie very kindly allowed us to start the ride from their farm and over 200 riders had a jolly good time enjoying our beautiful hunting country. A cheque for £300 has been sent to the Air Ambulance and £100 to the Red Cross.

 

We are holding another Quiz Night on November 23^rd at Welshampton Village Hall and await in trepidation as to what posers Deborah Hill-Trevor will face us with; we have asked for an easier run this time! A further date for your diary is the Farmers Hunt Ball to be held at Whitchurch on February 9^th 2000.

 

Elizabeth Hanmer

 

AREA III (MALPAS)

 

Our Donkey Derby was held on  July 15^th at Clutton Hall by kind permission once again of  Frank and Kath Tomlinson. A very good evening was had by all, it was encouraging to see so many aspiring young jockeys; there were so many of them that we had to have an extra race to accommodate them all. My thanks to everyone who helped to make this evening such a great success.

 

Unfortunately we were unable to run our Cross Country Ride scheduled for the 15^th October due to the pressures of the weather; we will all be wishing for better weather next year. Again my thanks to Henry and David for the efforts they put in only to be thwarted by rain.

 

Finally we are holding a Drinks Party on Thursday 7^th December at Lower Carden Hall by kind permission of Mr and Mrs E McAlpine. Further details of this will follow when they have been finalised.

 

Sue Davis

 

HUNTING REPORT

 

Autumn hunting this season has been very good. Scent conditions have generally been excellent and this combined with an excellent show of foxes has made for some extremely enjoyable - if a little damp - mornings. Amongst the most notable mornings were, firstly, from Lee Bridges when hounds flew round Smithymoor for almost two hours with hardly a check.

 

A very good morning was also had in the maize at Bangor Racecourse on Saturday 2^nd September. Hounds fairly flew around these large acreages of maize. The morning from Top Farm, Erbistock, on Saturday 19^th August was also a particularly good one. We had a sharp hunt round the Druries and then two good hound hunts in the Parlour Wood and Erbistock Gorse.

 

At the time of writing we have just had the Opening Meet. With conditions under foot very soft it is remarkable how generous our farmers are to us. A somewhat tricky day was enjoyed by those who were out.

 

I would ask everyone to be particularly mindful of the dreadful time that the farming community is currently enduring. We have an important role to play in standing firm behind them and hopefully offering a little light relief and entertainment. I hope that we all have a good season.

 

William Wakeham

 

 

WHO’S WHO?

 

The Kennels

 

Kennel Huntsman & 1^st Whipper-in:              Bert Loud

2^nd Whipper-in:                                                 Rod Jones Evans

Kennelman:                                                       David Irvin

 

The Stables

 

Stud Groom:                                                      Edward Carroll

Grooms:                                                             Sari Moreton

                                                                            Martina Kolarikova

 

Bert, of course, needs no introduction. After a crash course in equitation Rod has moved from kennelman to 2^nd Whip. A fluent Welsh speaker, he previously trained as a game-keeper at Reaseheath. David Irvin joins us from Yorkshire with his wife Sarah and young family.

 

In the stables Edward Carroll has moved down from Ayrshire and Sari Moreton all the way from Cinders. Martina is from Suhostyn in the Czech Republic and is staying at Rosehill on a year’s exchange to learn English    - perhaps she might pick up a bit of Welsh as well.

 

FROM OUR METEROLOGICAL CORRESPONDENT

 

No one needs telling that this is the wettest autumn in living memory – even if you are a hundred years old! But how wet? We had 5.95 inches of rain in September. September 1976 was wetter at 6.7 inches (the wettest month in the last 40 years) and was followed by 4.7 inches in October whilst we had 4.6 inches in October this year. So 1976 did have more rain in those two months but there are two significant differences between 1976 and 2000.

 

In 1976 it had been an exceptionally dry summer; by the end of August we had only had 10 inches of rain while this year we had had 15 inches by this stage. Secondly the two wet months of September and October 1976 were followed by a very dry November and December (1.5 and 1.7 inches.) This year (by 11^th November as I write) we have already had over 3 ¼ inches of rain this month – over 29 inches so far this year

 

Richard Matson. (Observant readers of Cry might have noticed that, ever since Richard kindly started contributing articles on the weather, normally on the lines of “You think it is wet but it has been wetter”, the elements appear to have conspired to prove him wrong …..)

 

FOXHUNTING

In England, Ireland and North America

By

Hugh Robards M.F.H.

 

Many Hunt Supporters will remember Hugh turning hounds to Charlie Wilkin. Hugh was with the Wynnstay from 1967 to 1970 going on to hunt the County Limerick Foxhounds in Ireland from 1970 to 1997. He then moved to Pennsylvania to become master and huntsman of the Rolling Rock Hunt.

 

This autobiography – the life of a professional huntsman – is not unique since Jack Molyneux’s “Thirty Years a Hunt Servant” is a fascinating account of foxhunting from the professional’s viewpoint in the first half of the 20^th Century. Hugh’s account covers much of the second half.

 

Professional life began at 16 with the Eridge under the sometimes excessively firm hand of Brian Gupwell who of course went on to become the distinguished kennel huntsman of the Duke of Beaufort’s hounds. Hugh’s equivalent to University must have been while at the Heythrop for three seasons with Captain Wallace (Master) and Bill Lander (Kennel Huntsman.) With two men arguably the best in their field as tutors it is not surprising Hugh learnt so much and went on to be one of the best professionals of his era.

 

For a twenty year old going to work for one of hunting’s most demanding employers, for the Captain was a perfectionist in what he did and expected of others, Bill Lander was a perfect antidote – kindness and humour.

 

Then to the Wynnstay kennels at Ruabon. Hugh has many happy memories and amusing ones too; tales of incidents which many older readers of Cry will enjoy being reminded of. Hugh’s high regard for Charlie Wilkin is abundantly clear. Not everyone who worked with Wilkin found him easy but those who understood him, and where there was mutual respect and hard work, did recognise him as one of the great professional huntsmen of the last century. In the hunting field Hugh had a particularly good working relationship with Joe Salmon who was the amateur whip at that time. Charlie Wilkin, Joe and Hugh were a formidable team and showed very good sport.

 

Hugh’s next move was to go as kennel huntsman to the County Limerick Hunt where Lord Daresbury, grandfather of our senior master, had an outstanding kennel of hounds and was showing the best sport Ireland had seen in the post war years. This was the principal employment of his career. He saw the best and worst in masterships and hunt management and has given us a fascinating insight into so much of it.

 

The Rolling Rock were at a low ebb when Hugh crossed “The Pond” to take them on as joint master and huntsman. The success of his resurrection of this hunt is best summed up by a gentleman I met in October who told me that he was moving his horses from Limerick to Pennsylvania despite the fact that he works in Jeddah!

 

A very readable book, a book for the library and a book which will be regarded as a classic in the same manner that the work of Jack Molyneux is regarded. The only flaw in the book is its price; at £38 it is in danger of not being as widely read as it deserves to be.

 

“Foxhunting” by Hugh Robards is available from Plymbridge Distributors (Tel: 01752 202 301, Fax: 01752 202 333.) Quote ISBN 1-58667-036-0

 

Richard Matson

 

PONY CLUB NEWS

 

We are the Champions! – Sir Watkin Williams Wynn’s Pony Club strike Gold, winning the National Championships at Sansaw Park. Members of the team had a memorable day on Tuesday 22^nd August when they became the Junior Pony Club Prince Phillip Games Champions of Great Britain.

 

The team of Louisa Milburn (10), Lynn Arden (10), Lucinda Dutton (10), Peter Conway (8), Georgia Corbett (9) with Camilla Dutton (8) as reserve were trained by Geoff Dutton and swept all before them to become National Champions, aided and abetted by a special diet of home made cakes provided by ‘Chef D’Equipe’ Bernie Dutton. This was a tremendous achievement and the culmination of many hours of training and competitions all over the country.

 

Elsewhere too the initials “W.W.W.” on the scoreboards were enough to strike dread into members of other Pony Clubs; not content with having one eventing team qualifying for the Championships at Sansaw we succeeded in sending two, both teams having finished on the same scores at the Area qualifying competition in July. This was the first time for six years that our eventing team has qualified for the Championships. Unfortunately a series of mishaps meant that neither team took any ribbons away but it was a wonderful experience for all concerned.

 

Dressage is not necessarily something that the Wynnstay are renowned for, but here again one of our teams qualified for the Championships, much to their own surprise! They certainly did not disgrace themselves at Sansaw either, despite coming up against some very tough opposition, being the third highest placed team to have no British Dressage members.

 

Thanks to indoor schools and well drained outside arenas training and competitions take place all the year round, particularly in the case of show jumping where Johnnie Okell’s tireless efforts have produced a string of successes at all levels.

 

And then of course there is the Tetrathlon; riding, running, swimming and shooting. It takes a very special type of person to bully and cajole Pony Club members into training and giving their all when running or swimming – not to mention having to have a brain the size of Einstein’s to understand the scoring system. Stand up Helen Dodd who has been team trainer for some years now and is certainly reaping the benefits of the long hours she spends throughout the year – there does not appear to be a ‘close season’ for tetrathlon. Yet another WWW team – the Senior Girls - qualified for the Championships held at Moreton Morrell and after a very close competition the team finished third behind the Irish Girl’s Team and the Middleton. This was also an International event and two of our members, Rachel Jones and Charlotte Hingley, were selected to represent the UK and now have the much coveted Union Jack badges on their shirts.

 

From a competition point of view this has been an exceptional year and perhaps the most encouraging aspect is the great depth of talent that there is within our Pony Club, with many younger children coming forward to take up the mantle from those that have gone on to greater things. This is thanks entirely to the enormous amount of time and effort that so many volunteers put in. Scarcely a day of the year goes by without some form of training or competition. Many of the stalwarts of our Pony Club have been members themselves and this is the very essence of what it is all about.

 

Whilst competitions provide enormous fun, frustration and occasional euphoria, the Pony Club is much more than a sausage machine for future Olympiads. Many members are content to be taught to ride and to look after their pony. Some may only appear at Camp and the occasional rally, others just want to hunt or show jump or gymkhana. It is an integral part of our community and is inextricably entwined with the Hunt. The syllabus of the Pony Club was based on the care of a pony or horse before, during and after hunting and of course the principles still ring true today, although many Pony Clubs are now no longer affiliated to Hunts.

 

We are extremely lucky that such a strong link exists and to have such a depth of support for the Pony Club; it can truly be said that our members follow the injunctions of Sir Henry Newbolt in Vitae Lampada:-

 

“This is the word that year by year,

While in her place the School is set,

Every one of her sons must hear,

And none that hears it dare forget.

This they all with a joyful mind

Bear through life like a torch in flame,

And falling fling to the host behind –

‘Play up! Play up! And play the game!”

 

 

THE FLESH ROUND

 

In 1973/74 I whipped-in to the Zetland Foxhounds in Yorkshire. My weekly wage was £16.37p – what was then the basic agricultural rate. There were, however, Perks. Until the onset of the B.S.E. crisis, perks were a fundamental cornerstone of hunt service, and were based on the principle of re-cycling. In livestock farming casualties are inevitable and, to the farmer, virtually worthless. To the hunt, fallen livestock were an inexpensive method of feeding the hounds, the only expense being the cost of collection and preparation. To the hunt staff, the by-products were a valuable addition to their wage packets.

 

The huntsman had the skins, the kennelman the bones and I had the fat. Surrounding the various organs a good sized cow or ewe are great dollops of suet, and these were retrieved and placed in a drum to await the arrival of the renderer. I never dared ask what the fat was used for, and have viewed deep fat fryers in fish and chip shops with suspicion ever since. The bones went off to be ground up for bonemeal and glue, and the skins went off to the leather tanneries. The hounds were fed an ideal diet and, above all, we got paid for our perks. I averaged £3 a week from my fat – an addition of nearly 20% to my weekly wage – and lambing time was an added bonanza.

 

The flesh round was also a chance to talk to farmers, pick up gossip and hear grievances. Sometimes things went slightly astray; one day I had to pick up dead ewes from two brothers who farmed neighbouring farms very tidily. At the first brother’s I noticed that the ewe had been sheared post mortem. This used to infuriate our huntsman because such a skin was virtually worthless. Moving on to the brother’s farm I remarked in passing that it was no wonder his brother was so wealthy; the tight old bugger even sheared his dead sheep. Noticing him blush, it suddenly dawned on me that such thrifty habits may run in families and so it proved…….

 

The skins were collected every fortnight by a splendid character with a large smelly lorry. He would set off from his base in the Midlands early every Monday morning, one week heading on a Northern circuit and the following week a Southern one. He would visit five or six Hunt Kennels every day and only return home on Friday afternoon. As a result he had all the hunting gossip hot off the press and his arrival at the kennels was greeted with all the enthusiasm of a housing estate when the ice cream van calls.

 

Until the advent of synthetic chemicals there was another perk from the kennels; hound excrement. This was barrelled up and sent to Bradford where it was used to make the dye for dyeing corduroy trousers, which probably explains why the colour of corduroy trousers now is not the colour it was then. The thought of sharing a guards van to Bradford with a warm barrel of you-know-what can hardly have been inviting.

 

Perks were a fundamental part of the hunting economy and many a good hunt servant would choose to remain with a smaller, less fashionable pack if it had a good flesh round.  Likewise some high quality packs would struggle to find top class staff if the flesh round was poor. In lean times some hunts tried to bolster their finances by appropriating the perks for the benefit of the hunt, only to discover that there was little benefit to be gained they soon realised that no hunt servant is going to spend backbreaking hours skinning surplus stock for someone else’s benefit.

 

The B.S.E crisis has completely changed this picture. Now, far from being paid for bones and offal, we have to pay – and pay heavily - to dispose of it. In non-hunting areas farmers are now faced with disposal charges for dead stock in addition to the financial loss that the death has incurred. Commercial charges for collection are currently in the region of £70 for a cow or horse and £6 for a calf. The Hunt provides a free service to the 1,500 farms in our 750 square miles of country. In a typical year the numbers of dead stock collected by the Hunt are in the region of 240 Cows, 2,400 Calves and 36 Horses – a theoretical saving to farmers of nearly £34,000.

 

To carry out this important and valuable service the Hunt employs and houses an extra full time employee, has a large flesh lorry and an incinerator to burn all surplus matter. The lorry covers about 24,000 miles a year at a running cost of some £8,600. The incinerator – which has to be licensed to meet environmental standards – has cost some £10,000 and has running costs in the region of a further £10,000 per year.

 

We could buy an awful lot of Pedigree Chum, Spillers Shapes and Bonios for the amount that fallen stock collection costs. However as a Hunt we are only too aware of the deepening agricultural depression and the need for farmers to cut costs wherever possible. We are also extremely grateful to farmers for being allowed to hunt over their land. A conscious decision has been made to continue to provide a free casualty collection service to our farmers as long as we possibly can. This has resulted in a significant financial burden but is at least a small way of assisting the farming community in these troubled times.

 

As Hunt Supporters you have been extremely generous in assisting with these charges.

 

 

THE CAMPAIGN FOR HUNTING

 

Anybody fortunate enough to be able to make it through the floods to Chester Racecourse on the evening of Monday 6^th November was rewarded with an excellent and inspiring speech from Richard Burge, Chief Executive of the Countryside Alliance, and special thanks must go to Guy Middleton, Libba Gascoigne and their team for arranging – and re-arranging – the evening which had had to be postponed once as a result of the fuel crisis and which was again in the balance owing to the floods.

 

It was especially pleasing to welcome many non-hunting supporters of the Countryside Alliance who had come along to pledge the support of their particular sport to the campaign for hunting; most particularly John Swift, Chief Executive of the British Association for Shooting and Conservation and well known to many hunt followers. The Countryside Alliance, BASC and other countryside organisations are now working very closely to ensure a united front against the common enemy.

 

This was a particular feature of Richard Burge’s talk; the threat to other country sports in addition to hunting and the importance of all working together to ensure the maximum deployment of our considerable resources, not only for the protection of our sport but for the preservation of the countryside as a whole.

 

The methods employed to achieve this will involve everyone. At the political level considerable work continues to be done on the legal and human rights aspects of a ban on hunting, and in particular Lord Watson’s Bill in Scotland is facing scrutiny both as a result of it’s extremely poor drafting and the possibility of criminal irregularities that may have taken place during this drafting.

 

On a more personal level, Richard Burge commented on the fact that hunting people thought nothing of getting up at two in the morning to demonstrate in London, yet were loath to put pen to paper to write a simple letter to their MP or AM or the media.

 

And then, as always, there is the money. Many people have been extremely generous in donating to the Campaign and many were extremely generous on that evening. If you have not yet subscribed to this year’s Campaign please contact Richard Matson on 01948 663 239.

 

In England and Wales the political scene is likely to hot up enormously over the next few months. It is widely expected that a Bill to abolish hunting will be announced in the Queen’s Speech – anticipated to be on Wednesday 6^th December. This will be a Government sponsored Bill, not a Private Member’s one [they have already tried that if you remember.] This means that time will be made available for the Bill to pass through all its necessary stages and could become law before the start of next season.

 

The situation is then further muddied by the timing of the next General Election which has to take place by May 2002 but is widely expected to be called for May 2001. If this is the case then we will win a reprieve as it is extremely unlikely that the necessary legislation will have been passed by then. Have no doubt, however, that this will only be a temporary reprieve and, should Labour be re-elected, a ban on hunting will be regarded as a matter of priority.

 

And so, to demonstrate once again the voice of the Countryside, we are returning in greater numbers than ever to London on Sunday 18^th March. If  everyone who went last time brings two others who did not we will have our million on the streets and prove to the Government that they have to Listen to Us.

 

One of the areas that gives the general public concern about hunting is openness and accountability. With an essentially urban population – or more accurately in our case a rural population with an increasingly urban element – much of their concerns are based on basic ignorance of the facts surrounding hunting. There are several ways in which this problem is being tackled, with various television programmes such as ‘Clarissa and the Countryman’ either now being shown or in the pipeline. Even the Archers has started mentioning hunting again after a long period of avoiding the issue.

 

If you wish to comment on any BBC programmes – and praise is extremely welcome as well as criticism – ring 08700 100 222. The BBC rely a great deal on positive feedback when planning future programmes.

 

In order to enable the public to easily obtain more information about their local Hunt and also have a secure and personal point of contact all hunts will have their own interactive websites live by the end of 2001; a sort of electronic Bailey’s. Yes, you might even be able to read Cry on the web by this time next year. These websites will include maps,  meet cards, personality profiles [now there’s a thought] and other general details in relation to all UK Hunts. After all, we have nothing to hide.

 

 

THE HUNT SUPPORTERS CLUB

 

Patron: Sir Watkin Williams-Wynn, Bt.                           President: Mrs D.W. Hutchinson Smith

 

Vice Presidents: A.R. Hewitt Esq.; J Chantler Esq.; P. Robinson Esq.; Mrs G. Lea, J.P.;

Mrs J. Taylor; J.C. Barnett Esq. Mrs J. Chantler.

 

Chairman:            Mrs G Hanmer  01948 710 634

Hon. Secretary:   Miss K Slater  01829 250 217

Treasurer:            P Lawrence Esq.

 

Editor of Cry: David Higham, Rose Farm, Coddington, Tattenhall, Chester CH3 9EN 01829 782 420

 

Area I (Wrexham)

 

Chairman: S. Lloyd Esq. 01978 780 368

Secretary: Mrs Linda Maurice, Cinders Fm, Overton Rd, Ruabon, Wrexham LL146HL 01978 822 424

 

Area II (Whitchurch)

 

Chairman: S.N.R. Brunt Esq. 01948 710 678

Secretary: Mrs G Hanmer, The Stables, Bettisfield Park, Hanmer, Salop SY13 2JZ  01948 710 634

 

Area III (Malpas)

 

Chairman:  Mrs J Davies 01829 250 212

Secretary: Mrs Trudi Teasdale-Brown, 12 Heronbrook, Whitchurch, SY13 1BE     01948 662 0356

 

BE WITH THEM I WILL

 

Probably not more than 5 per cent of all the foxhunters in the kingdom aspire to take their own line across country; probably 40 per cent would be incapable of following hounds for more than half a mile without someone in front to show them the way.

 

Taking your own line is not a question of courage, but of hunting sense, luck and, above all, an “eye for the country”; indeed it requires a great deal more courage to jump fences as one of the field than it does to jump them in front as huntsman.

 

Probably this is because, when in front, you take the fence where your judgement tells you it is safe to take it and because you are not hampered by other horses; but even if one person has been over in front of you, unless you are very strong willed, you imagine that he, or she, has jumped the fence in the only possible place; though your judgement tells you to take it more to the left you back the leader’s experience, rather than your own judgement; that alone makes you instinctively wonder whether it is all right. Besides, unless the going is like a billiard table, each horse makes it so much the deeper, so much the higher, for your horse; again, unless you are riding three hundred guineas worth, your horse probably becomes more and more excited as each one goes over in front of him.

 

Therefore, if you want to have a confident, and safe, and enjoyable, ride across country, try to take your own line.

 

Each time you queue up you lose time; if you are at the tail end of a big field and have to wait for 100 to 500 people to go over five or six narrow fences in front of you, you will soon find that every hunt is, to you, run at racing pace even though hounds are only walking after their fox; the trouble is that for half the time you are standing still. But if you are in front, you can go at exactly the same pace as the hounds go, or only so much faster as may be necessary to go round a patch of country across which they are able to go straight. In front, you will find that nine times out of ten – no, ninety nine times out of a hundred, your horse, old, gone in the wind, unsound as he may be, “slow as a can horse” though you have always found him, provided he can and will jump, is as fast as he need be to keep you with hounds.

 

Ride the first four fields of every hunt as though hounds were about to run one hundred miles straight on end in a little under 60 minutes; then you will get your place and if they really do run you will not have to make up lost ground. On the other hand if it is one of those ‘rotten bad scenting days’ you can, as soon as you discover the fact, pull up and take the easiest line.

 

Do not be taken in if hounds run slowly for the first few fields. As soon as their noses get tuned in they may settle down to race. But if they check within the first half-mile, you can take your time.

 

And if they are running slowly, do take your time. Go through the gates, even though you may add 50% on to the total distance you have to ride. You have ample time to make the addition, and still get the answer right; you are not tiring your horse by making him jump unnecessary fences; you are not trying the farmer’s temper by jumping and encouraging other idiots behind you to jump and break his fences unnecessarily; you are not trying the Master’s temper by trying the farmer’s. The time to show the rest of the field you are not by nature a gate-man is when hounds run fast.

 

With a big field out, be prepared to jump some terrifying fences in the first mile; you may have to in order to get and keep your place in front; once you have got it you will usually have ample time to open gates and pick the easiest places.

 

If you are not in front, still keep your eyes and your ears on the hounds. Not more than 10% of foxhunters keep either there, so the chances are highly in favour of your following someone who does not; watch the leading horsemen if you cannot see the hounds; when you see them swing, swing yourself, and take the chord of the circle rather than the arc which is what the fools in front will always take.

 

D.W.E. BROCK

 

And, to get you over the first few terrifying fences, here is our ‘Hunting Vitinary’s’ special remedy:-“Singing Johnnie:” 1 Cup of honey in a cider flagon, filled with blackcurrants and then topped up with whisky. Leave for six months.

 

Highly recommended by Jim who says that it gives you ‘warmth and courage’ - not that he has ever lacked for either.

 

WYYNSTAY FARMING FAMILY WIN PRESTIGIOUS DAIRY AWARD

 

That Dairy Farmers in the Wynnstay country are amongst the best in the world has never been in doubt, but this has now been confirmed by the presentation of the Pharmacia & Upjohn Quality Milk Award to Agden father and daughter team Raymond and Claire Lowe. This came as a particular surprise to Raymond who was unaware that Claire had entered their farm into the competition until just before the judges arrived.

 

Claire in particular has been an enthusiastic Hunt follower since childhood and has recently graduated from Harper Adams. This was obviously a case of putting theory into practise and the judges commented in particular on their herd’s exemplary cow cleanliness, milking hygiene and immaculate milking parlour and described the veterinary and medicine record keeping books as probably the best they had ever seen. The judges were also impressed by the use of well maintained stone-free tracks to reduce lameness and the Lowe’s obvious close working relationship with Hampton vet Euan Bryson. Many congratulations.

 

THE PONY CLUB MEET AT THE HOLLIES – BY THE PATERSON FAMILY

 

I haven’t ridden for a while and my pony, Tolsa, was jiggling. We set off and I felt a bit nervous. My Mum got bucked off in the first field and I stopped at the first fence but I did it the second time. The second fence was a sort of parallel and I jumped that quite well. My brother Felix went into a bog after that fence because he missed the road. There were lots more fences and one of them we jumped three times. After a while I lost a shoe so we had to go home. My brother Ned went on the quad bike and he stayed out after we went home. Altogether we had a good day. Evie  (8)

 

We got to the meet and then we went to find Mudguard. Unluckily enough I wasn’t aloud a glass of port! We found Mudguard and then we zoomed off on Herbie, Mudguards quad bike. We went up to a hill which gave us a great view but it also froze us solid! After a while the field charged past us and someone fell off. It was just like seeing a cavalry charging past. A nice man came up and filmed us, he asked us questions about hunting and he asked us to drive past the camera. After this we went on to the next cover but we got a bit lost so as soon as we found out where they were it was nearly over. So we went to the Carden Arms to round off the day. Ned (11)

 

Around 9.30 I am heaved into the saddle. Having not ridden for 3 weeks, apprehension is an understatement. My horse, a coloured mare who I have hunted for two years (this is her third season) however has no such doubts. The meet was short and soon I am being pulled across a field to stop at the other end. What followed was a jumble of post and rails or tigertraps, all being successfully negotiated and confidence started to flow. Around 12.00 the first real break arrived. A quick check of all four shoes. OK. But my sister’s has come loose and is nowhere to be seen, an early homecoming beckons. Two hours later I am in a nice warm bath reflecting on the day’s jumps and why was I nervous anyway…? Felix (14)

 

If you thought that spin-doctoring and dodgy advertisements were invented by this Government:-

 

“You will be mounted on the finest horses in the world with superb clothing and the richest accoutrements;

Your pay and privileges are equal to two guineas a week;

You are everywhere respected;

You are admired by the Fair, which, together with the chance of getting switched to a buxom widow, or of brushing with a rich heiress, renders the situation truly enviable and desirable.

Young men out of employment or uncomfortable:-

‘There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads to fortune’. - Nick in instantly and enlist.”

 

Recruitment Poster for the 16^th Light Dragoons - 1759

 

Old huntsmen never quite lose the habit of peering over the left shoulder. Is it memories of the Master’s languishing eye? No Sir, it is not. Is it because a couple of hounds are missing? It’ll learn ‘em to catch up. Is it for a Christmas Box? Certainly not. No. A huntsman is haunted – forever haunted – by the menacing thunder of the galloping field.

 

Frederick Watson: Hunting Pie

 

With the exception of the Hunt staff, changing to a second horse should be an entirely private affair, comparable to getting undressed or having a bath, and should be treated in that manner, out of public view and off the public highway.

Prafectus Hunting Observations

 

REYNARD THE FOX OR THE GHOST HEATH RUN

By John Masefield

 

We now enter the closing stages of the Ghost Heath run. Having failed to find sanctuary in Wan Dyke Hill Reynard has earned a respite through hounds checking. Push on he must and push on he does, only to be viewed by the Huntsman, Robin Dawe……

 

The fox heard hounds get on to his line,

And again the terror went down his spine;

Again the back of his neck felt cold,

From the sense of the hound’s teeth taking hold.

But his legs were rested, his heart was good,

He had breath to gallop to Mourne End Wood;

It was four miles more, but an earth at end,

So he put on pace down the Rood Hill Bend

 

Down the great grass slope which the oak trees dot,

With a swerve to the right from the keeper’s cot

Over High Clench Brook with its channel deep,

To the grass beyond, where he ran to sheep.

The sheep formed line like troop of horse,

They swerved, as he passed, to front his course.

From behind, as he ran, a cry arose:

“See the sheep there. Watch them. There he goes!”

He ran the sheep that their smell might check

The hounds from his scent and save his neck,

But in two fields more he was made aware

That the hounds still ran; Tom had viewed him there.

 

He ran the slope towards Morton Tew

That the heave of the hill might stop the view,

Then he doubled down to the Blood Brook red,

And swerved upstream in the brook’s deep bed.

He splashed the shallows, he swam the deeps,

He crept by banks as a moorhen creeps;

He heard the hounds shoot over his line,

And go on,on, on, towards Cheddesdon Zine.

 

Then “Leu, Leu, Leu” went the soft horn’s laughter,

The hounds (they had checked) came romping after;

The clop of the hooves on the road was plain,

Then the crackle of reeds, then cries again.

The whimpering first, then Robin’s cheer,

Then the “Ai, Ai, Ai”; they were all too near,

His swerve had brought but a minute’s rest;

Now he ran again, and he ran his best.

Tom cried to Bob, as they thundered through,

He is running short, we shall kill at Tew.”

Bob cried to Tom as they rode in team,

“I  was sure, that time, that he turned upstream.

As the hounds went over the brook in stride

I saw old Daffodil fling to side,

So I guessed at once, when they checked beyond.”

 

At the Morton Pond the fields began

-Long Tew’s green meadows; he ran, he ran.

First the six green fields that make a mile,

With the lip-full Clench at the side the while,

With rooks above, slow circling, showing

The world of men where a fox was going;

The fields all empty, dead grass, bare hedges,

And the brook’s bright gleam in the dark of sedges.

To all things else he was dumb and blind;

He ran with the hounds a field behind.

 

At the sixth green field came the long slow climb

To the Mourne End Wood, as old as time;

Yew woods dark, where they cut for bows,

Oak woods green with the mistletoes,

Dark woods evil, but burrowed deep

With a brock’s earth strong, where a fox might sleep.

He saw his point on the heaving hill,

He had failing flesh and a reeling will;

He felt the heave of the hill grow stiff,

He saw black woods, which would shelter – if

Nothing else, but the steepening slope

And a black line nodding, a line of hope –

The line of the yews on the long slope’s brow,

A mile, three-quarters, a half mile now.

 

A quarter-mile, but the hounds had viewed;

They yelled to have him this side the wood.

Robin  capped them, Tom Dansey steered them;

With a “Yooi! Yooi! Yooi!” Bill Ridden cheered them.

Then up went hackles as Shatterer led.

“Mob him!” cried Ridden, “The wood’s ahead.”

But the pace, uphill, made a horse like stone;

The pack went wild up the hill alone.

 

Three hundred yards and the worst was past,

The slope was gentler and shorter grassed;

The fox saw the bulk of the woods grow tall

On the brae ahead, like a barrier wall.

He saw the skeleton trees show sky

And the yew-trees darken to see him die,

And the line of the woods go reeling black:

There was hope in the woods – and behind, the pack.

 

Two hundred yards and the trees grew taller,

Blacker, blinder, as hope grew smaller;

Cry seemed nearer, the teeth seemed gripping,

Pulling him back; his pads seemed slipping.

He was all one ache, one gasp, one thirsting,

Heart on his chest-bones, beating, bursting;

The wood hedge black was a two-year, quick

Cut and laid that had sprouted thick

Thorns all over and strongly plied,

With a clean red ditch on the take-off side.

He saw it now as a redness, topped

With a wattle of thorn-work spiky cropped,

Spiky to leap on,  stiff to force,

No safe jump for a failing horse;

But beyond it darkness of yews together,

Dark green plumes over soft brown feather,

Darkness of woods where scents were blowing –

Strange scents, hot scents, of wild things going,

Scents that might draw these hounds away.

So he ran, ran, ran to that clean red clay.

He thrust at the thorns, which would not yield;

He leaped, but fell, in sight of the field.

The hounds went wild as they saw him fall,

The fence stood stiff like a Bucks flint wall.

He gathered himself, he leaped, he reached

The top of the hedge like a fish-boat beached.

He steadied a second then leaped down

To the dark of the wood where bright things drown.

He swerved, sharp right, under young green firs.

Robin called on the Dane with spurs.

He cried, “Come, Dansey; if God’s not good,

We shall change our fox in this Mourne End Wood.

 

Like a dainty dancer, with footing nice

The Dane turned side for a leap in twice.

He cleared the ditch to the red clay bank,

He rose at the fence as his quarters sank,

He barged the fence as the fence gave way,

And down he came in a fall of clay.

 

The fox knew well as he ran the dark,

That the headlong hounds were past their mark;

They had missed his swerve and had overrun,

But their devilish play was not yet done.

He made his spurt for the Mourne End rocks.

The air blew rank with the taint of fox;

The yews gave way to a greener space

Of great stones strewn in a grassy place.

And there was his earth at the great grey shoulder,

Sunk in the ground, of a granite boulder.

A dry, deep burrow with rocky roof,

Proof against crowbars, terrier-proof,

Life to the dying, rest for bones.

 

The earth was stopped; it was filled with stones.

 

Then, for a moment, his courage failed,

His eyes looked up as his body quailed,

Then the coming of death, which all things dread,

Made him run for the wood ahead.

 

The taint of fox was rank on the air,

He knew, as he ran, there were foxes there.

His strength was broken, his heart was bursting,

His bones were rotten, his throat was thirsting.

He crossed the covert, he crawled the bank,

To a meuse in the thorns, and there he sank,

With his ears flexed back and his teeth shown white,

In a rat’s resolve for a dying bite.

 

And there, as he lay, he saw the vale,

That a struggling sunlight silvered pale:

The Deerlip Brook like a strip of steel,

The Nun’s Wood Yews where the rabbits squeal,

The great grass square of the Roman Fort,

And the smoke in the elms at Crendon Court.

And there as he lay and looked, the cry

Of the hounds at head came rousing by;

He bent his bones in the blackthorn dim

But the cry of the hounds was not for him.

Over the fence with a crash they went,

Belly to grass, with a burning scent;

Then came Dansey, yelling to Bob:

“They’ve changed! Oh, damn it! Now here’s a job.”

 

The fox lay still in the rabbit-meuse,

On the dry brown dust of the plumes of yews.

In the bottom below a brook went by,

Blue, in a patch, like a streak of sky.

There one by one, with a clink of stone,

Came a red or dark coat on a horse half-blown.

After an hour no riders came,

The day drew by like an ending game;

A robin sang from a pufft red breast,

The fox lay quiet and took his rest.

The stars grew bright as the yews grew black

The fox rose stiffly and stretched his back.

He flaired the air, then he padded out

To the valley below him, dark as doubt,

Winter-thin with the young green crops,

For old Cold Crendon and Hilcote Copse.

 

 With feet all bloody and flanks all foam,

The hounds and the hunt were limping home;

Limping home in the dark dead-beaten,

The hounds all rank from a fox they’d eaten.

Dansey saying to Robin Dawe:

“The fastest and longest I ever saw.”

And Robin answered “Oh Tom, ‘twas good!

I thought they’d changed in the Mourne End Wood,

But now I feel that they did not change.

We’ve had a run that was great and strange;

And to kill in the end, at dusk, on grass!

 

Then Tom replied: “If they changed or not,

There’ve been few runs longer and none more hot

We shall talk of to-day until we die.”

 

The stars grew bright in the winter sky,

The wind came keen with a tang of frost,

The brook was troubled for new things lost,

The copse was happy for old things found,

The fox came home and he went to ground.

And the hunt came home and the hounds were fed,

They climbed to their bench and went to bed;

The horses in stable loved their straw.

“Good night, my beauties,” said Robin Dawe.

Then the moon came quiet and flooded full

Light and beauty on clouds like wool,

On a feasted fox at rest from hunting,

In the beech-wood grey where the brocks were grunting.

 

The beech wood grey rose dim in the night

With moonlight fallen in pools of light,

The long dead leaves on the ground were rimed;

A clock struck twelve and the church-bells chimed.