JenHunt
Well-Known Member
Tuesday saw the Bilsdale meeting at my parents house in glorious sunshine. A small but select few gathered in our front paddock, with all the men in red and all the ladies in black or navy! Swainby is not great hunting country, as it's situated in a narrow little valley which is heavily wired up forestry and shot over, and to compound things has a number of less than welcoming farmers (who may or may not have valid reasons for not welcoming the hunt 
).
I had been up early to take my sisters horse down to a friend's house in the village and I got dragged all the way there! He'd had an hour out with hounds on Saturday and still hadn't eaten a meal completely so it wasn't worth the risk of him seeing the hounds at "his" house! Meanwhile dearest donkey was doing his best giraffe impression as he could see people arriving but wasn't prepared to expend the energy required to make a fuss about it!
I mounted up just in time to have a quick slurp of port and the last sausage from my Dad's tray before we moved off. There's nothing like leaving your yard at extended trot to get the blood running! We trotted up the road deeper into the valley, up a sharp hill towards where the Cleveland way crosses the valley. Turning left we go backwards around one of my usual hacks - cue much bouncing about down a hill while everyone else walks as we'd normally gallop up it! Having gained quite a bit of height we have a view out of Scugdale (and Yorkshire!) towards Cleveland. We then swing right-handed and watch hounds draw Whorl Hill in the haze.
As we moved across towards Faceby we had a bit of a pop over a large-ish rail followed by a charge around the edge of some slightly wet grassland before coming to a stand in the shadow of Carlton bank. I was at this point standing along side Mr Osbourne (MFHA & Bedale MFH), and another visitor from the Cleveland, and all ears were fixed on the music coming from the hillside above us. Having drawn a blank, hounds were gathered up and we moved away from the moor towards the Carlton road where we turned right again, trotting into the village before picking up the old coach road on the Busby Hall estate.
We had an interesting few moments here as hounds seemed to pick up a distracting scent and rioted for a few moments before they responded to the hunstman. We turned again towards the hills, making our way carefully around wire and broken down electric fencing (not electrified I might add!). We came to another stand on a slight rise, again with a hazey view out towards Cleveland. An MFH visiting from the Hurworth commented to me on how much country there is between the main road and the hills, and what wonderful country it is. He remarked to me that whilst it's not galloping hedge country it is wild and untouched with stretches of old grassland that wouldn't take much tidying to give some nice hedges. I don't think he realises that most of our followers aren't big hedge jumpers, or indeed, over keen on jumping generally!
We moved on and upwards again. A brisk cavalry charge across a field to a gate led to a track leading up again. Our 1st whip was leading the way when his horse appeared to trip or spook or something, leading to Steve getting a muddy jacket for the first time all season! Once he'd remounted we all went through the gate and up a very rutted track, but we were rewarded with a view of our huntsman on his fabulous grey welsh cob cross mare Jemima on the skyline, with hounds casting out in front of them.
After a few moments Conrad spoke, and the others soon picked up, knowing he's rarely wrong. Hunt staff hopped the keepers "stile" (think baton of wood on the top wire, about 2 foot long) into the covert, leaving the field to find a gate. By the time we caught them up Conrad's trail had petered out on the side of the Carlton Bank Road. As the gate was wired up we all turned tail to come back down to the gate we'd struggles to open moments earlier.
At this point I noticed it was 2.30pm and that I was about an hour and a half's walk from home. As I made my good night's to the field master, our MFH and a few others, I was joined by 4 others, 3 who were in need of guiding home. As we strolled down the rutted track all 5 horses suddenly Shot sideways, from walk to terrified gallop instantly. As we got steadied up and turned about, Mr Fox, (the visiting master from the Hurworth) pointed out 3 of the biggest pigs you've ever seen, lurking by the fence. They were about the size of a shetland pony! Once we'd got past most of the horses calmed down, except mine and Mr Fox's who jittered most of the way home!
We had a lovely hack home on the road's and bridleways, all chattering about the day we'd had, the season past, and the summer to come. And of course all the changes and so on ahead of us.
Saturday is our end of season do - champagne breakfast, 2 mile gallop with (mostly optional) fences and a generous meet in a beautiful setting, followed by a great day hunting!
).I had been up early to take my sisters horse down to a friend's house in the village and I got dragged all the way there! He'd had an hour out with hounds on Saturday and still hadn't eaten a meal completely so it wasn't worth the risk of him seeing the hounds at "his" house! Meanwhile dearest donkey was doing his best giraffe impression as he could see people arriving but wasn't prepared to expend the energy required to make a fuss about it!
I mounted up just in time to have a quick slurp of port and the last sausage from my Dad's tray before we moved off. There's nothing like leaving your yard at extended trot to get the blood running! We trotted up the road deeper into the valley, up a sharp hill towards where the Cleveland way crosses the valley. Turning left we go backwards around one of my usual hacks - cue much bouncing about down a hill while everyone else walks as we'd normally gallop up it! Having gained quite a bit of height we have a view out of Scugdale (and Yorkshire!) towards Cleveland. We then swing right-handed and watch hounds draw Whorl Hill in the haze.
As we moved across towards Faceby we had a bit of a pop over a large-ish rail followed by a charge around the edge of some slightly wet grassland before coming to a stand in the shadow of Carlton bank. I was at this point standing along side Mr Osbourne (MFHA & Bedale MFH), and another visitor from the Cleveland, and all ears were fixed on the music coming from the hillside above us. Having drawn a blank, hounds were gathered up and we moved away from the moor towards the Carlton road where we turned right again, trotting into the village before picking up the old coach road on the Busby Hall estate.
We had an interesting few moments here as hounds seemed to pick up a distracting scent and rioted for a few moments before they responded to the hunstman. We turned again towards the hills, making our way carefully around wire and broken down electric fencing (not electrified I might add!). We came to another stand on a slight rise, again with a hazey view out towards Cleveland. An MFH visiting from the Hurworth commented to me on how much country there is between the main road and the hills, and what wonderful country it is. He remarked to me that whilst it's not galloping hedge country it is wild and untouched with stretches of old grassland that wouldn't take much tidying to give some nice hedges. I don't think he realises that most of our followers aren't big hedge jumpers, or indeed, over keen on jumping generally!
We moved on and upwards again. A brisk cavalry charge across a field to a gate led to a track leading up again. Our 1st whip was leading the way when his horse appeared to trip or spook or something, leading to Steve getting a muddy jacket for the first time all season! Once he'd remounted we all went through the gate and up a very rutted track, but we were rewarded with a view of our huntsman on his fabulous grey welsh cob cross mare Jemima on the skyline, with hounds casting out in front of them.
After a few moments Conrad spoke, and the others soon picked up, knowing he's rarely wrong. Hunt staff hopped the keepers "stile" (think baton of wood on the top wire, about 2 foot long) into the covert, leaving the field to find a gate. By the time we caught them up Conrad's trail had petered out on the side of the Carlton Bank Road. As the gate was wired up we all turned tail to come back down to the gate we'd struggles to open moments earlier.
At this point I noticed it was 2.30pm and that I was about an hour and a half's walk from home. As I made my good night's to the field master, our MFH and a few others, I was joined by 4 others, 3 who were in need of guiding home. As we strolled down the rutted track all 5 horses suddenly Shot sideways, from walk to terrified gallop instantly. As we got steadied up and turned about, Mr Fox, (the visiting master from the Hurworth) pointed out 3 of the biggest pigs you've ever seen, lurking by the fence. They were about the size of a shetland pony! Once we'd got past most of the horses calmed down, except mine and Mr Fox's who jittered most of the way home!
We had a lovely hack home on the road's and bridleways, all chattering about the day we'd had, the season past, and the summer to come. And of course all the changes and so on ahead of us.
Saturday is our end of season do - champagne breakfast, 2 mile gallop with (mostly optional) fences and a generous meet in a beautiful setting, followed by a great day hunting!
