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.