JenHunt
Well-Known Member
Well, after spending Friday night and most of this morning in two minds about going hunting today, I eventually manned up and went. It was snowing, but not settling as I left the house, and as I travelled southwards to the meet the high ground was hidden in snow cloud. I was, for a change, first to park up at my chosen spot - which was a bonus as the verges are waterlogged and very slippery, as not one but 3 other vehicles found out!
The meet was in a small village called Kirby Knowle, well inland from the main road, and on the western edge of the moors. The turnout was very good considering the weather, with around 40 mounted field. After a relatively short meet, with snow starting to settle in the fields at this height, we moved off. For a change there was no trotting down the road to the first draw, and we could move out of the fold yard into old pasture. There was then a bit of a pause, in the driving slushy sleety snow, as hounds drew through some bracken on the hillside, followed by a brief flurry of excitement as we made for a rail in the corner of the field. I tried to wait for some of the chaos to abate before attempting the fence, but dearest donkey decided he'd had enough of standing about and pratted about launching himself in the general direction of the queue until I let him have his turn. Unfortunately the pony in front of me stopped and we very nearly collided, but the quick thinking of the pony (to stand still) and of the donkey to take evasive action (and jump the fence so close the the post and rail that I'm not sure which we actually jumped!) saved us!
From here we joined the road between Kirby Knowle and Boltby known as the Switchback, moving on towards Boltby village at a leisurely pace as the hounds drew along the hillside above us. After a short wait on the road the hounds and huntsman rejoined the field and we retraced our steps a little, before taking a different road towards Felixkirk at a good trot. Riders were glad to be moving again and to get the blood moving around the hands and feet once more.
The sleet/snow had eased off a little and the wind had dropped considerably as we turned off the road onto the back of the patch of land known as Mount St John. This is actually a triangular patch of land which joins 3 small estates, and holds the Hurworth Pony club cross country course as well as a large number of hunt fences. We had a short pause here, during which one lady's horse was spooked by a hound squeezing through the wire with the characteristic pinging noise that makes, causing the horse to go up, decanting her neatly on the very muddy field. Chatting to an unfamiliar face here I found that we had 2 visitors from the Kildare in Ireland, who were over visiting friends.
We then moved off again, up a slippery, narrow gully onto the high ground at the top of the mount. Fortunately the field master opted not to take the little rail in the fence line here, but to use the gate, as the next field was slippery with the settling snow on top of greasy saturated clay soil. The next fence line however, was an option of two tyre fences, though most folk opted for the little one due to the ground conditions. Plus, we pulled up pretty sharp afterwards to listen for hounds. On hearing that they were ahead and down hill of us we set off again at a good canter, taking the next 2 rails in a good stride. The field were then pulled up whilst the field master got a kid to lift the slip rails off the next fence and then whilst the field filed over the narrow fence. On the other side we picked up one of the tracks that criss-cross the mount, and followed it down to the little valley floor, before crossing it and taking on one of the bigger, more awkward pony club fences...
The ground rises up ahead of you, and you can see on the sky-line an apparently simple upright timber fence. You follow all the teaching you've ever had, sit the horse on his hocks, control the impulsion and ride a straight line up to the fence. But, on getting there you find that the ground is so steep in front of the fence that it's almost a step, and that what you thought was a simple upright is in fact an angled arrowhead stile, meaning that you've lost all your impulsion going up the bank, and aren't on the line you wanted! This caught out a good few of the riders today, and prompted a couple to join the tumblers club. But, the best hunters shone through, making it look easy as they made the best of what line they got. I'm pleased to report that my lad is included in that bunch, and that we almost, almost made it look elegant!
Having gathered the field up once more, we went downhill again, this time towards the Thirlby back lane, before turning part way back on ourselves to go up onto the appropriately named Slippery Banks. A short pause and we came back down again, out of the field over a different fence, and turned up hill again towards the Felixkirk road. Over this last fence Ron did his usual missile launching impression and caught up with the lady in front of me, who proceeded to give me a black look for jumping at the same time as her. It turns out she is one of the landowners for the mount, and had spent most of the day telling the Master how slow and tedious it was for the field!
We gathered hounds up and they were put into a field of game crop as we moved slowly towards the Felixkirk road. We crossed the road and went partway down the very steep field towards the Felixkirk to Kirby Knowle road. We paused here, just out of the wind, as hounds were casting through the scrub on the steepest parts of the bank. It had, however, started snowing again and a large chunk of the field used the pause as an opportunity to call it a day and head home.
Hounds had come across a den and were marking, but our huntsman was trying to stick to the rules and called them off. Another (visiting) huntsman made some rather uncalled for (in my opinion) comments about ignoring hounds when they're marking what ever anyone says, very audibly to the field, whilst riding off towards where they were. After a little while, hounds were called off, leaving the terrier men to do it the way the law would have it. Meanwhile, we moved off down hill again very slowly owing to the ground conditions until we were on the flat again and could safely pick up a canter. Over one rail, where Ron did his best to jump a standing ash tree sideways, before tripping over a rock, and finally launching himself at the rail and haring off after it like a scalded cat. I managed to pull him up and hold him as the next rail was out onto the road. This particular road, last time I'd ridden down it was like polished, oiled glass, so I had no particular yen to jump out onto it. I made for the gate, only to find it padlocked, so had to face the fence. By the time I got back to it there were only 2 horses left to jump, the first of whom popped it beautifully. The second, however, proceeded to refuse. Two late comers appeared at speed and, calling to the young girl to follow, disappeared over the fence. After several attempts, the young, novice rider was getting very frustrated and OH hopped on (he'd been running with us) in an attempt to get it over for her, to no avail. So I hopped back over the fence, for about the third time, and went up the road to see if I could find another way out for her. On coming back, her parents had arrived in their car, and her dad, OH, and us on the horses walked up to where I'd seen a gap in the hedge that we might be able to squeeze through. On getting back to the road we all called it a day - it was about 2.30pm.
I'm quite annoyed with the two late comers, who clearly knew the girl and that the pony was liable to stop, but who made no real effort to help. But the kid and her parents were grateful for our help, which does help me feel a bit better about it - but still....
So, not the most interesting day, and certainly not a good day for the weather or for watching hounds work.. but I still had fun. It will take my jacket until Tuesday to dry out though!
The meet was in a small village called Kirby Knowle, well inland from the main road, and on the western edge of the moors. The turnout was very good considering the weather, with around 40 mounted field. After a relatively short meet, with snow starting to settle in the fields at this height, we moved off. For a change there was no trotting down the road to the first draw, and we could move out of the fold yard into old pasture. There was then a bit of a pause, in the driving slushy sleety snow, as hounds drew through some bracken on the hillside, followed by a brief flurry of excitement as we made for a rail in the corner of the field. I tried to wait for some of the chaos to abate before attempting the fence, but dearest donkey decided he'd had enough of standing about and pratted about launching himself in the general direction of the queue until I let him have his turn. Unfortunately the pony in front of me stopped and we very nearly collided, but the quick thinking of the pony (to stand still) and of the donkey to take evasive action (and jump the fence so close the the post and rail that I'm not sure which we actually jumped!) saved us!
From here we joined the road between Kirby Knowle and Boltby known as the Switchback, moving on towards Boltby village at a leisurely pace as the hounds drew along the hillside above us. After a short wait on the road the hounds and huntsman rejoined the field and we retraced our steps a little, before taking a different road towards Felixkirk at a good trot. Riders were glad to be moving again and to get the blood moving around the hands and feet once more.
The sleet/snow had eased off a little and the wind had dropped considerably as we turned off the road onto the back of the patch of land known as Mount St John. This is actually a triangular patch of land which joins 3 small estates, and holds the Hurworth Pony club cross country course as well as a large number of hunt fences. We had a short pause here, during which one lady's horse was spooked by a hound squeezing through the wire with the characteristic pinging noise that makes, causing the horse to go up, decanting her neatly on the very muddy field. Chatting to an unfamiliar face here I found that we had 2 visitors from the Kildare in Ireland, who were over visiting friends.
We then moved off again, up a slippery, narrow gully onto the high ground at the top of the mount. Fortunately the field master opted not to take the little rail in the fence line here, but to use the gate, as the next field was slippery with the settling snow on top of greasy saturated clay soil. The next fence line however, was an option of two tyre fences, though most folk opted for the little one due to the ground conditions. Plus, we pulled up pretty sharp afterwards to listen for hounds. On hearing that they were ahead and down hill of us we set off again at a good canter, taking the next 2 rails in a good stride. The field were then pulled up whilst the field master got a kid to lift the slip rails off the next fence and then whilst the field filed over the narrow fence. On the other side we picked up one of the tracks that criss-cross the mount, and followed it down to the little valley floor, before crossing it and taking on one of the bigger, more awkward pony club fences...
The ground rises up ahead of you, and you can see on the sky-line an apparently simple upright timber fence. You follow all the teaching you've ever had, sit the horse on his hocks, control the impulsion and ride a straight line up to the fence. But, on getting there you find that the ground is so steep in front of the fence that it's almost a step, and that what you thought was a simple upright is in fact an angled arrowhead stile, meaning that you've lost all your impulsion going up the bank, and aren't on the line you wanted! This caught out a good few of the riders today, and prompted a couple to join the tumblers club. But, the best hunters shone through, making it look easy as they made the best of what line they got. I'm pleased to report that my lad is included in that bunch, and that we almost, almost made it look elegant!
Having gathered the field up once more, we went downhill again, this time towards the Thirlby back lane, before turning part way back on ourselves to go up onto the appropriately named Slippery Banks. A short pause and we came back down again, out of the field over a different fence, and turned up hill again towards the Felixkirk road. Over this last fence Ron did his usual missile launching impression and caught up with the lady in front of me, who proceeded to give me a black look for jumping at the same time as her. It turns out she is one of the landowners for the mount, and had spent most of the day telling the Master how slow and tedious it was for the field!
We gathered hounds up and they were put into a field of game crop as we moved slowly towards the Felixkirk road. We crossed the road and went partway down the very steep field towards the Felixkirk to Kirby Knowle road. We paused here, just out of the wind, as hounds were casting through the scrub on the steepest parts of the bank. It had, however, started snowing again and a large chunk of the field used the pause as an opportunity to call it a day and head home.
Hounds had come across a den and were marking, but our huntsman was trying to stick to the rules and called them off. Another (visiting) huntsman made some rather uncalled for (in my opinion) comments about ignoring hounds when they're marking what ever anyone says, very audibly to the field, whilst riding off towards where they were.
After a little while, hounds were called off, leaving the terrier men to do it the way the law would have it. Meanwhile, we moved off down hill again very slowly owing to the ground conditions until we were on the flat again and could safely pick up a canter. Over one rail, where Ron did his best to jump a standing ash tree sideways, before tripping over a rock, and finally launching himself at the rail and haring off after it like a scalded cat. I managed to pull him up and hold him as the next rail was out onto the road. This particular road, last time I'd ridden down it was like polished, oiled glass, so I had no particular yen to jump out onto it. I made for the gate, only to find it padlocked, so had to face the fence. By the time I got back to it there were only 2 horses left to jump, the first of whom popped it beautifully. The second, however, proceeded to refuse. Two late comers appeared at speed and, calling to the young girl to follow, disappeared over the fence. After several attempts, the young, novice rider was getting very frustrated and OH hopped on (he'd been running with us) in an attempt to get it over for her, to no avail. So I hopped back over the fence, for about the third time, and went up the road to see if I could find another way out for her. On coming back, her parents had arrived in their car, and her dad, OH, and us on the horses walked up to where I'd seen a gap in the hedge that we might be able to squeeze through. On getting back to the road we all called it a day - it was about 2.30pm.I'm quite annoyed with the two late comers, who clearly knew the girl and that the pony was liable to stop, but who made no real effort to help. But the kid and her parents were grateful for our help, which does help me feel a bit better about it - but still....
So, not the most interesting day, and certainly not a good day for the weather or for watching hounds work.. but I still had fun. It will take my jacket until Tuesday to dry out though!
