Hind-hunting is at its best in November and December. The hinds are
difficult to kill; they are then stronger than stags. It is for this
reason that I record what must be considered to be a notable performance
of the Devon and Somerset from the Heathpoult on December 3rd. The
fixture was for 10 a.m. You want all the daylight there is to kill a
stout hind. There was a thick fog and they had to wait some time before
it was possible to hunt. At last Mr. Morland Greig gave the word, and
kennelling the pack, tufters were taken to Slowley. The run began almost
at once, and the chase was nearly all over an enclosed country. The pace
was often good, and the hunt lasted for two hours. But the feature of it
was that we never got the pack, and that the whole was carried on by the
huntsman with four or five couples of hounds. The hind escaped, but not
till nearly four o’clock. A week later, in thick fog and driving rain,
Mr. E. A. V. Stanley and the Quantock hounds drove a hind straight and
fast from the same covert, and killed her near the pier-head at
Minehead. Taking the weather into consideration this was a noteworthy
gallop.
Two memorable runs have taken place with foxhounds during the past
month. The week from December 5th to December 10th was perhaps the best
of the season, and there was sport in every country. The Quorn was
stopped by fog and hindered by absence of scent on the two days in the
week—Monday, Friday—they were in the best country, but as we shall see,
made up for it on Saturday. It is not the least remarkable feature of
these waves of sport that they affect, about the same time, countries of
different soils, climate, and contour, often widely separated by
distance.
What I think may be called the two historic hunts of the month took
place in Rutlandshire with the Cottesmore, and in Somersetshire with the
West Somerset, on December 5th and 7th, while on the latter date the
Pytchley had a good run, and on the Friday several packs, including the
North Cotswold, enjoyed sport better than ordinary.
The Cottesmore met at Tilton on the first Tuesday in December. There
were some preliminary chases which came to nothing, but served to show
that there was a scent. The fox of the day was holloa’d away on the side
of Skeffington Wood nearest the road. The hounds, when they hit the
line, swung left-handed over the grass fields between the covert and the
road. At Brown’s Wood, Thatcher, no doubt fearing a change, held the
pack round outside. He was right, his fox had gone on across the road,
but there was another line, and part of the pack were away. However, the
huntsman and his division worked out the line over the road and into the
fields beyond, the hounds clearly gaining confidence as they went. The
whipper-in, having stopped the main body smartly, arrived in the nick of
time with the rest of the pack. The hounds now settled to work, and
improving the pace as they went, ran to Rolleston and on to Noseley,
held on still to Glooston. At this, point the fox began to turn, and the
Ram’s Head covert was reached and left behind. Thence they dipped down
to the East Norton road, which the fox ran for some distance, and then
turned left-handed as though for Launde Park Wood. By this time many
good horses were stopping, for the pace and the severity of the country,
which is all up and down—some of the hills are very steep—told on them.
In the early part of the run the followers had been favoured by
convenient gates, but now the pace improved, and it was not easy to
skirt and keep one’s place, yet the fences, though fairly practicable,
took much of the remaining steel out of the horses. When hounds turned
up to Prior’s Coppice they began to run for blood. Bending towards
Owston Wood the field thinned down, and horses began to stop everywhere.
In the meantime hounds ran from scent to view, and rolled their fox over
in the open close to Cheseldyne Copse. The run lasted one hour and forty
minutes, covered fourteen miles as hounds ran, but as the course was a
wide curve the point is of course not a long one. The run is remarkable
for the wise tactics of the huntsman at the beginning, for extraordinary
excellence of the country crossed, as well as for the steadiness of
hounds in a well-foxed country, and the condition they showed in hunting
for so long a time, and fairly running into their fox at last. That the
pace was fast is shown by the number of horses in the best-mounted field
in England that stopped by the way.
Into close connection with this run we may bring the other great hunt of
the month. Although the country was very different the chase was not
dissimilar. Indeed, before we can admit a run to the list of great
chases it must fulfil certain conditions, of which the principal is that
it must be fast and continuous. If hounds are merely hunting more or
less for two or three hours at a slow pace, we often have an interesting
day’s sport, but we have not had a great run. I should like to add that
it must be after a single fox, but that would exclude so many famous
hunts, but if the fox that started is the fox killed, then, no doubt,
the triumph is all the greater. The West Somerset run was after one fox,
the time was an hour and thirty-five minutes, the pace was good, the
distance covered as hounds ran was fifteen miles, and the point rather
over seven.
The fox was found on Sir Walter Trevelyan’s property and on the shooting
in the occupation of Mr. Townsend Marryat, of Treborough Lodge, who had
been keeping the Roadwater coverts quiet for the Hunt.
The fixture was the “Valiant Soldier,” Roadwater—a well-known anglers’
house—on Wednesday, December 7th. The fox was afoot in ten minutes after
the start, and it was about twenty minutes more before he was fairly
away. Once he was headed, but he resolutely swung round to make his
point. Then the pace was very fast, and indeed there was need to gallop
to keep on terms with the pack in this rather difficult country. The
fox’s point was up wind for a certain well-known covert, but this he
failed to reach, turning away within sight. Judging from the pace hounds
had brought him along he had no choice but to turn or die. This move
saved him for the time, for he gained ground and reached Sir John
Ferguson Davie’s covert at Bittescombe Manor, within the borders of the
Tiverton Hunt. Finding, however, no refuge there the fox turned back and
made for Clatworthy Wood. Hounds were now gaining. He was too hot to
stay in the covert and he broke again. The pack turned him in a big
field, and catching a view rolled him over. The fox was easily
identified as the one that started, as he was curiously marked.
As a run it was a hound chase, for the pack were not touched from find
to finish. They cast themselves when necessary and twice picked up the
line on the roads. They killed him unaided, as although the Master saw
the kill he could not get to them, nor could the huntsman. Every hound
was up—a great performance in a rough country. The mask was given to
Miss Luttrell and will find a place at Dunster Castle, rightly enough,
since the hounds are lent to the country by Mr. G. F. Luttrell.
While on the subject of historic runs news reaches me of a run with Sir
John Amory’s staghounds which is in every respect a record, at all
events, since the days of the Rev. Jack Russell. The distance, the pace
and the line of country taken by the deer were all alike remarkable and
interesting. This wonderful stag-hunt took place on Saturday, December
9th. The fixture was Chawleigh, in the Eggesford country, so long known
to foxhunters as Lord Portsmouth’s. Seven deer were roused; a young stag
was chosen. The hounds were laid on and the stag began by making a wide
ring. He then ran by rather devious ways to the River Taw, which stag
and hounds crossed. Those who have seen this river in flood will know
that the ordinary fords are then impassable. Some miles had to be
covered to reach a bridge and return towards the place where hounds were
last seen. Luckily the stag and hounds had not vanished into space. The
stag probably meant to return to the moors, but on reaching the railway
he was blanched by a passing train, and this gave the field time to come
up. The quarry was now driven clean out of his country, and he ran
straight forward, heading for Torrington, near to which place they took
him at 4.15, having been running for four hours and a half. The hounds
were left at Eggesford, and the Master, Mr. Ian Amory, his brother, and
Mr. de Las Casas made their way back to Tiverton which they reached
about midnight.
In illustration of the fact that hounds can run in distant countries on
the same day, the Quorn and Cottesmore both had a scent on the 9th,
though the latter were hindered by fog. The Quorn were in that section
of their country in which Bunny Park is a favourite covert. This part of
the country has some plough, but grass and arable alike often carry a
good scent, and on Saturday, 9th, hounds ran brilliantly over both
alike. Scent held all day, but the fox was saved in the first run by a
timely rabbit-hole, in the second by the darkening twilight of a short
winter day. The Cottesmore, again, had a run on Tuesday, 12th, which
would have been noteworthy had it been possible to see it, but fog
caused many of the best followers to miss the fun. I think a great run
should, especially in the grass countries, have its glory and pleasure
divided between the hounds and the horses. In that most delightful
country, Lord Bathurst’s division of the V.W.H., a very noteworthy
gallop came off on November 24th. The point was the best I have to
record this month, being nine miles in a straight line, with a deviation
making up three more perhaps. Thus it will be observed that the run was
unusually straight. This country is somewhat heavy going in wet weather,
when it holds the best scent. Somerford Common supplied the fox. The
pack started at once and settled to run. There was thenceforth small
opportunity to make up a bad start. There was a short hesitation at
Flisbridge, then they went on through Oaksey Wood, crossed into the Duke
of Beaufort’s country, and arrived at Redmorton, where few saw the end.
The fox saved his life here, as the covert was full of foxes.
The North Cotswold bitches are giving their master a brilliant season to
finish with. Nor can we imagine a greater pleasure to any one than to
see a pack one has built up one’s self gaining triumph after triumph. I
cannot help thinking that the fact that this pack kill their foxes is
one reason for their success.
Hounds that are successful become so full of confidence in their
huntsman and in themselves, that they make light of difficulties that
would daunt others. It looks as if Belvoir blood needed a quick huntsman
to bring out its best qualities, for I have heard people say that they
were not so fond of the strains in provincial countries. But facts are
stubborn things, and the Duke’s kennel seems to be the true foundation
on which to build a fast and killing pack.
Of the other packs hunting in fashionable countries, Mr. Fernie’s, the
Atherstone and the Pytchley have all enjoyed good sport during December
without, so far, any run above their usual level, which, be it
remembered, is very high. It takes a very excellent gallop indeed to be
considered out of the usual run of these countries.
Sometimes I think it possible that farmers may wonder whether the deeds
of hunting people are in proportion to their professions of gratitude.
At all events, the Warwickshire Hunt are doing their best to manifest
the reality of their regard. They have voluntarily taxed themselves 10s.
or £1 a-piece, according to their means, one-half of the fund so
collected going to the “Royal Agricultural Benevolent Society,” and the
other half to the relief of farmers in distress within the limits of the
Warwickshire Hunt country. This scheme will, it may be hoped, find
imitators in other countries. This and the Hunt Servants’ Benevolent
Fund are the charities which no hunting people ought to neglect.
Rumours die hard, and the report that Mr. Hubert Wilson is going to
resign the Cheshire is still going about. The fact is that he is willing
to go on, and the country most anxious to keep him. The sport he has
shown and his popularity, together with that of his huntsman Champion,
should promise and secure a long reign. Frequent changes of mastership
are a disadvantage not only to the individual country, but to hunting at
large. So far there are but two countries likely to be vacant, and I
hear that there are many applications for the North Cotswold, the chance
of possessing that incomparable pack of bitches being no doubt a great
attraction. The other pack is the Ledbury, which it is expected Mr.
Carnaby Forster will resign before long, and I fear that the state of
his health makes the report more than probable. He will leave a fine
pack and a tradition of good sport behind.