Tally Ho!

(Printed in the November 21, 2007 edition of the Tinytown Gazette)

A lover of foxhunting for the past ten years, experience has shown it best to immediately add “But there’s no fox involved!” when I broach the subject. Countenances often pinch at the thought of an animal being pursued for recreation.

In 1997 some equestrian friends who hunt with Norfolk, the local club, introduced me to the sport. They regularly ride out with hounds hot on the trail of a scent laid by a human “fox”.

Norfolk began as a drag hunt in Dedham in 1895 and moved to Dover in 1903. Despite suburban expansion, they have been hunting much of the same country there ever since.

For me, the beauty of this revered sport of horsemen is as much a pleasure to observe as participate. It is an amazing sight in our modern world to see the elegantly dressed riders wearing scarlet coats and black caps seated astride their gleaming mounts.

During my years of involvement I have met people from all walks of life. They make room in their lives to partake of the excitement several times a week during the spring and fall seasons. Regardless of wallet size, matching grins split each rider’s face as they dash across fields and over fences.

I have ridden in the hunt several times, but never on my own horse. It takes a special creature to bear up under all of the excitement. My old horse Cue would have high tailed it for home after just a few moments of horns, hounds and “Tally Ho’s!”

The level headed mounts that I was graciously loaned allowed me to enjoy the exhilaration of the hunt without worrying about life and limb. Hunt horses must be sound of mind and body. Remaining calm in a large group or riding away from the others can be very difficult, and athleticism and agility are required to negotiate the varied terrain and jumping obstacles.

Occasionally I have been the fox; once rushing frantically with the hounds hot on my heels. Scrambling over hill and dale, through streams, around rocks and stumps, I artfully dripped the mixture scented with fox urine and anise along the planned hunt route. Needless to say I was a hit with the hounds when I encountered them later in the day!

The hunts are at least a few hours long with stops at various checkpoints along the way. These checks provide a brief rest and refreshment for hounds and riders, as well as serving as the perfect backdrop for some shutter snapping. I frequently attend the hunt to take photos, dressed in long sleeves, long pants and tall rubber boots, all in an effort to keep the ticks at bay.

Camera in hand, I become part of the parade of vehicles following along – some spectators, others there to assist with various aspects of the hunt. Over the years I have amassed a considerable collection of photos reminiscent of a bygone era.

At the end of each merry chase we all look forward to the “breakfast”. Hosted by a member or friend of the hunt, a hearty feed is laid out for riders and spectators alike to enjoy. Of first priority are the horses and hounds. Once the animals are cooled out and comfortable, the riders eagerly approach the hearty fare.

Now that I have discovered this enjoyable pursuit, I see it remaining a part of my life. No longer a sport of the wealthy landowner, fox hunting brings riches to all involved.