Andy and I were just performing a perfect backfill;
spoil was heaped up above level of surrounding soil to allow for slight settling. The scene of dig was then covered with handfuls of discarded sycamore leaves; all in all, we were pleased with our covert handywork. This was first day of 2004 and we had just experienced a shallow, but memorable dig to our young bitch Womble. So far, this Xmas break had been one of best ever, only day before we had accomplished a successful beat, Lurchers catching a brace of our intended quarry with no trouble at all. After this first dig of season I doubted that it could get any better, but it did! As we scanned behind us to ensure that we had not inadvertently left a torch or net lying on ground my mobile began to vibrate under many layers of clothes. On retrieving said handset I found that it was Neil Pretend Traveller on other end. It quickly transpired that there was a couple of spare places available out with a pirate pack of hounds and would we like to go? Our all too predictable answer was, of course, “Yes”. The following morning we journeyed up A1 with high hopes.
This pack is called Deerness Foxhounds and there were about 10 couple of mixed hounds out with us today. Neil introduced me to a few lads and we saw a few familiar faces too. The hunt uniform was quite distinctive to say least: A pair of sturdy fell boots, a frighteningly bald head sporting a couple of heavy gold earrings and a neck like a silverback mountain gorilla completed huntsman's attire. Needless to say, banter and general Mickey taking was order of day and we were kept laughing by usual jokers.
Several lads with Lurchers and guns spread out over a long valley and hounds were unleashed at far end. Walkie-talkies were used to communicate and eavesdrop on each other. This modern equipment proved to be a boon as we were able to relay to others when a fox had risen. Unfortunate on this first valley only one fox was found and this evaded capture, seeking sanctuary of a massive forestry block. Undeterred, we moved onto next place. Being a regular follower of hounds I was not too bothered, not every patch of cover will hold and you have got to take rough with smooth. Sandwiches were quickly demolished and much coffee was quaffed in an effort to keep hypothermia at bay. I don't mind admitting that I was absolutely freezing; all standing around had practically given my toes frostbite!
In next bit of cover hounds found scent of a vulpine almost immediately. The canine voices grew in number and volume until full pack was away in full cry, hot on brush of old redskin. Such was pressure these hounds were applying to Charlie that he only had two options: either go to ground or break cover. I was out with my camera today trying to get a good pic of Lurchers killing foxes. I had chosen my position best I could but, as per usual, I was in wrong place when fox broke cover. A decent dog fox had tried to make a break for a distant wood, but Neil's lurcher had other plans for it. Once fox had committed himself to his line then Neil had slipped his Bull cross lurcher and, despite hard ground, this muscular running dog had managed to make a good catch on very edge of a sheep wire fence. The hounds had quickly caught their, now deceased, quarry up and both lurcher and hounds broke carcase up. A great start. I realised that my hands were no longer numb from intense cold. Its funny that a bit of action warms you up even though you may not have done anything. Perhaps it’s all in mind? Neil's dog had not been bitten at all and it was stood their as if to say “Right, where's next one”.
This dogs name is Gypo, but I call it “The Tapeworm” due to fact that it was a mite thin when a young dog. We had a good laugh one day when dog was only a juvenile. A big fox had been dug with a strong black dog, we let it bolt for lurcher but inexperienced dog managed to let it escape through its legs. It had done good for a young one, but obviously it needed experience to become a better dog in tackling creatures that bite back. On way home I kept saying to Neil
“The only way that dog will kill a fox is by giving it tapeworm, if we see any really malnourished foxes about we know they must have been in contact with your dog”! We had a good laugh about that and name has stuck ever since!
Whilst remains of fox was buried hounds were allowed to try back in cover and it was not too long before whole pack got on scent of another red skinned deviant. Through dense ground cover they pressurised fox, never loosing it for a moment, even though plenty of deer abounded pack ignored all cervidae scent. Suddenly a brace of shots echoed down valley and crackling radio announced that fox had expired.
I was impressed with display of pure, unadulterated, venery that we had been privileged to witness. I have hunted with a good number of fox packs and have heard so many excuses as to why hounds had lost scent.
“Too dry”
“Too wet”
“Too warm”...you name it... It seems that there is an excuse for every type of weather condition!
