FARMERS AND WIRE.
There is very little wire in Leicestershire, though it is far too common in other parts of the Shires. Fences where the warning red board ([Fig. 136]) or red rag ([Fig. 137]) is seen, should be avoided, as these signals denote the presence of wire. As these death-traps bear no warning notice in some places ([Fig. 138]), it behoves people hunting in such countries to keep a sharp look-out for unmarked wire and iron hurdles ([Fig. 139]).
Some farmers appear to use wire in an unnecessary manner. For instance, placing it on the top of a gate ([Fig. 140]) seems to have no raison d’être, except to hurt unfortunate hunters which in breasting such a gate to push it open, are apt to get badly pricked and run suddenly back to avoid it, with the possible result of injury to both horses and riders behind them. Also, I have seen wire put up in fields in which there were no cattle, and removed after the hunting season, to duly appear again in the following one. Other tricks, such as sending sheep-dogs to head foxes, and stationing farm hands to shout “wire!” where there is none, have also come under my personal notice. Indeed it is impossible to live in the country, without observing such acts of hostility on the part of farmers towards “hunting people.” I cannot help thinking that much of this tension might be removed, if every hunt secretary followed the example of Colonel Francis Henry, the Hon. Secretary of the Duke of Beaufort’s Hunt, of whom we read in Baily’s Magazine of March, 1902:—“Colonel Henry, who, in the opinion of his numerous friends, seems to possess the secret of eternal youth, contrives to enquire personally into every complaint that is sent to him, whether relating to damaged fences, loss of poultry or, rarely, ‘wire offences.’ There is no better known figure in Gloucestershire than that of Colonel Henry on his hack, one of his own breeding by the way, which carries him on his long rides; he is wont to say that in dealing with a grievance ‘one visit is worth a dozen letters.’ His geniality, and the painstaking care with which he investigates every matter to which his attention is called, dissipate at their beginning many difficulties which, handled with less sympathetic diplomacy, would ‘come to a head’ and produce the friction which tells against sport. Landowners, farmers, and business men alike in the Badminton country are keen supporters of fox-hunting, and their attitude towards the sport is due in no small degree to the unremitting attention and care for their interests displayed by the honorary secretary both in winter and summer.” The truth of Colonel Henry’s remark that one visit is worth a dozen letters, was exemplified to me the other day by an old lady, a farmer’s wife, who regretted the sad change in “hunting people” since her young days, when they “used to come in and chat with me as affable as could be.” She mentioned the name of Mr. Wroughton, who partook of some of her “cowslip wine,” and so much was she impressed with the visit that every small detail of it, even the year, month, day and hour, and also where he sat in her parlour, remains a treasured memory. He made a friend who will always speak of him in the highest terms, because he was nice and civil to her, and it seems to be a matter for regret that this friendly feeling is not more generally cultivated than it is in hunting districts.
Unfortunately, the old-fashioned motherly, hardworking farmer’s wife is a type of woman which is rapidly dying out, and the modern specimen belongs to that large and useless brigade of “perfect ladies” who are above their position and who regard work as undignified. I recently saw an advertisement from a farmer’s daughter who said in it that she had offers of plenty of mounts, but wanted some lady to give her a riding habit! Surely it would have been far better for her to have worked and earned one, instead of cadging in such a manner for her amusement? Proverbially bad as our fresh butter in the Midlands is, I fear the time is approaching when butter making will entirely cease, for, with few exceptions, farmers’ daughters are not trained to do dairy work. A modern “young lady” from a farm, who had been educated in a Board school, applied to a well known lady of title for a situation as governess; but her ladyship pointed out that her educational attainments did not qualify her for such a post, and suggested that she should obtain employment as a parlourmaid. Needless to say that the farmer’s daughter scorned the idea of thus “lowering” herself! Even the daughters of farm labourers nowadays ride their bicycles, instead of going out to service as their mothers and grandmothers did before them, and dress themselves ridiculously out of keeping with their position and surroundings. It seems very incongruous to see such girls living in indolence in country villages, while the daughters of their parson, as frequently happens in large families, turn out and earn their own livelihood.
It would cost very little to give an annual ball, say, after the Hunt ball and before the decorations were taken down, to farmers and their wives and any local residents who help towards the support of hunting, and I feel sure that an entertainment of this kind would be productive of beneficial results. In order to make it a success, it would have to be attended by some of the members of the local Hunt, and not in any way bear the stamp of a charity ball; for untravelled middle-class people in this country are, as a rule, very “select,” and eaten up with social ambition, and many who would not think of attending a subscription dance, would be attracted by “an invitation Hunt ball.” Besides, after all, even if local residents and farmers pay their guinea to be present at an annual Hunt ball, they feel themselves rather “out of it,” if they are not personally acquainted with anyone in the room, and wisely avoid such dreary functions. It is recorded of Mr. Conyers that he once presented every farmer’s wife in his hunting district with a silk dress, saying that the ladies must be propitiated if hunting is to flourish.
One of the reasons why hunting is unpopular among farmers is the selfish and reckless manner in which many followers of a hunt ride over arable land; the greatest sinners in this respect being those who reside in towns, and who, knowing nothing about agriculture, err more from ignorance than indifference. Unless vegetation stares them in the face, they evidently think there is no harm in riding over ploughed land, no matter how distinctly the smoothly-harrowed surface and carefully prepared drains indicate the presence of seed underneath. In such a case, our best plan would be to skirt along, as near as possible, the hedge or other boundary, even if we have to go a little out of our way. Riding over cultivated “heavy” (clay) land, especially if its surface is wet, is particularly hurtful to the crop, because each imprint of a horse’s foot will form a small pool of water, which will rot the seed inside it. In “light” (sandy) land, the water in such holes will quickly drain off, and little or no injury will be done. While hoping that young horsewomen will not allow their enthusiasm for hunting to outweigh their sense of prudence when steering their horses over farmers’ land, I would entreat them to also “hold hard” when approaching allotment ground, for this land is rented, as a rule, by the poorest of the poor, who have no gardens in which to grow vegetables, etc., for their use, and a small field of, say, a few acres may be cultivated by several villagers and their children in their “spare time of evenings.” Each tenant has his own patch of allotment land on which he grows what he requires for his use. In winter we may frequently see the entire field under wheat cultivation, as many poor families grow their own grain, which the local miller grinds into flour, and in this way they save the baker’s bill, as they make their own bread. To ride over and destroy their small crops is a sin which I am sure no lady would knowingly commit, and, therefore, it behoves us all to exercise due circumspection when we find ourselves on arable land.
Also, on pasture land we have need to temper valour with discretion, and especially after Christmas, when ewes and cows are heavy with young, and are not in a fit state to safely endure the dual evil of fright and violent exercise. Later on, when lambs have appeared, it is cruel to gallop so near these mothers and their young, as to cause suffering. Sheep are such stupid animals that they appear to have no idea of evading a crowd; and cattle, as a rule, lose their heads from fright, and career madly about their fields, sometimes for two or three days after the sudden passing of a hunt. When a gate is negligently left open, and the terrified animals avail themselves of this method of escape, the unfortunate farmer will generally have great trouble in finding and bringing them back, because they often go long distances, and he has seldom any means of knowing what route they have taken. Horses give him far more trouble than cattle in this respect, because they can travel faster and farther. I have seen ladies who have the interests of hunting deeply at heart—Mrs. James Hornsby, for instance—ride back and fasten gates which have been carelessly left open.
One grievance which lies very near the heart of a farmer, because I suppose it frequently touches his pocket, is the damage done to his fences, especially during a check, by people who unnecessarily potter through small gaps, which, after they have finished, resemble open spaces. The farmer who has to get them mended speaks very bitterly about fox-hunting, especially if he has to do the repairing at his own expense, as he argues that if it was necessary to work a passage in this manner through his hedge, the field might have been content with one open door instead of making several. A farmer in the North Cheshire country was so irate on this point that on one occasion when the hunt wanted to cross his land, he and his men gave us a welcome with pitchforks!
A kind of farmer whom I despise is the man that hunts on the free list and pretends to support fox-hunting, while he keeps his land encompassed by wire during the entire season! I have known some of these men enjoy unmerited popularity with the Master, and even take charge of Hunt wire boards. Their non-hunting neighbours who take down wire and over whose land they ride with safety, are obviously the better supporters of hunting, although they may not be able to afford a nag, even if they had time to devote to the sport. The farmer who takes down his wire is naturally displeased with a Hunt which favours an individual who keeps it up; but I think if all Hunt secretaries were like Colonel Henry, such delinquents would soon be brought to book, for no Master would care to see with his hounds, a farmer who kept his land wired during the hunting season. Some of the illustrations of wired fences in this book have been photographed on the land of so-called “hunting farmers.” An even worse class of man than the double-dealing farmer is the wealthy landowner who preserves his coverts, shoots foxes, lets his shooting at a big profit, and then goes off to hunt in some fashionable centre, like Melton Mowbray. In Leicestershire he would be regarded as a hunting man, while in his own district he is known as a vulpicide, for Reynard is seldom, if ever, found in his coverts. One has only to live in the country, and pretend indifference about fox-hunting, to see the tricks which some farmers perform in order to prevent people from riding over their land. I remember in the North Cheshire country a big covert, which was always considered a certain find, being drawn blank, much to the huntsman’s surprise. As he called off his hounds, after a thorough investigation, a farmer said, with a smile: “I knew they wouldn’t find a fox here, for Mr. ——’s foxhound puppy, which he is walking, has been rummaging about this covert all morning!” It appears that Mr. Blank was a farmer whose land adjoined the said covert, and who had found his foxhound puppy more useful in driving away foxes than his sheepdogs.
Instead of doling out compensation to farmers as a form of charity, it would be much better for our hunting authorities to meet them on a level footing, get them to appoint a committee of their own, and pay that official body, every year, a certain proportion of the hunt subscriptions, to be applied according to the wishes of the Farmers’ Committee.