Hunting Horn


	To the delight of the Editor, we now have some contributions on this page. We would love to have more actual reports or descriptions from readers, and, of course, more photos.

The Game is Over.01.07.10
A good while ago countrytalk promised to tell you more about Irish Staghunting. We left it too late.
The Irish parliament has just voted to outlaw it, by the narrowest of margins, 75 votes to 72.
This hunting actually preserves the rare Irish Red Deer, which live, will you believe it, at the kennels.
Yes, hounds and deer co-exist and have done for centuries at the Ward Union Hunt where they have been hunting the Carted Stag.
This sounds horrific, you say. In fact, the Ward Union has preserved the Irish Deer, now a rare breed. The stags are never killed.


	On hunting days a selected stag is taken to the meet in a trailer and is released in a suitable spot nearby. He is then hunted by the hounds and the field of riders follows the hounds, as in any normal hunt. The deer is free to take his own line and obvioulsy older stags get more cunning and knowledgable. When the hunt is over the stag is not shot but led into his trailer again and taken home for a rest. Veterinary tests have found that the stags recover in 3-4 days, in a similar manner to a race-horse that has had a run. The hinds are not hunted. And are the stags terrified? Well, we have never hunted the Carted Stag so it is not for us to say. Clearly they are very well looked after, living in parkland surrounding the kennels. it is a sad blow to the Ward Union, the very last hunt of it’s kind.

		A Russian Hunt:

Foxhunting is, of course, a supremely British tradition. The unmentionable in pursuit of the in-edible..Except nowadays everyyone hunts only a trail or go on a mock-hunt, with hounds attached, or so the law says. So, to challenge the British to send us some more exciting photos we publish these stunning photos of a Russian re-enactment of an Imperial Hunt. It looks very thrilling and exciting. No prey was hunted, any more than it is in Britain today.

Boxing day 2009
As usual, Boxing Day Meets were very popular. Many hunts had to have the meet on foot, due to icy conditions underfoot. This was a great shame, but a meet is still a good outing for children and supporters.And in other parts of the country hunting went on as usual. It is thought that around 300.000 people turn out for Boxing day Meets all over the country. That’s not bad for an illegal sport! Let us hope that 2010 will bring back some common sense. In the meantime, enjoy these lovely photos, we had sunshine in 2009. Not in the summer, but at Christmas time, quite an unusual development and very good for the photographers.
If you send some more photos, we’ll put them up!

Here we se the Grafton Hounds and their Huntsman moving off.

A festive young follower at the Grafton.

Here is a lovely photo of the Avon Vale Hunt on Boxing Day 2009.

The Berkley leave the meet.

It seems, that in spite of all the time given to the hunting issue in Parliament only 3% of the population now perceive this as an important issue that will affect how they vote. That seems very sensible. it is a traditional pastime, aftr all, and of little importance compared to the war in Afganistan, for example.


		See below a report from a days hunting by Gunilla Malmström, an intrepid Swedish explorer. She has written a most interesting description of her first days sport.


	The Silverton Hunt.

My day’s hunting in England by Gunilla Malmström.

A Swedish friend who loves dogs came across this website and it inspired me to write down my experience of hunting. I recently visited England. I was staying with my friend Vanessa who suggested we would go hunting. Luckily I took my riding gear with me! It was a bit difficult on Ryan-Air, see Stable-talk tips from readers…
Now, I thought that hunting had been outlawed in Britain.
Vanessa explained some complicated rules which I didn’t understand… The outcome seemed to be that we were going hunting! I felt apprehensive, the truth be told.
That’s because in Sweden we mostly ride indoors in winter-time. It gets to be –20C degrees and everything is frozen hard. So I’m not so very used to outdoor riding in the winter.
Luckily it was at least +2C degrees and raining slightly when we set off. I was to ride Flanagan. He turned out to be a chestnut horse from Ireland, small and stocky, with a strong neck. I think you call them cobs?
Anyway, we got on the horses. Vanessa was riding Flora, her own English Thouroughbred. Flanagan belongs to Vanessa’s friend Emily who was at work this day so I could ride Flanagan. I was wearing Emily’s jacket and my own riding-boots and crash helmet.
We rode to the meeting place, which was 3 miles down a lane. Flanagan felt fine but a little hard in the mouth and didn’t seem to understand my leg positions much.
We got to a pub called the Hunter’s Moon and were given strong drinks. I had some to steady my nerves. Then we were given sausages and potatoes. I don’t know who cooked all this food. I felt a bit sick by 11.20 as I’m not used to eating and drinking such heavy food mid-morning. In Sweden we usually have coffee around 11, not sausages and roasted potatoes.
Soon I forgot about feeling sick. We trotted off behind the big hounds and the men in red jackets who were in charge of them.
I was still not sure if we were hunting foxes or if a runner had laid a trail or what was going on. It was quite confusing. I was introduced to many of Vanessa’s friends which was also confusing but very kind of them all.
I tried to concentrate on what was happening. Flanagan was gripping the bridle rather hard.
Now we cantered across a big grass field and Flanagan gripped the bridle even more. We all crowded through a gateway and I thought my knee would come off, I banged it so. We trotted speedily on the slippery asphalted road. I didn’t know where the hounds were going but I followed after Vanessa. We turned into another gate and somebody was shouting loudly and pointing. I think they had seen the runner. The hounds were soon galloping along with their noses on the ground and whimpering in a high-pitched manner. It was quite wonderful. The riders set off behind them. It was less wonderful and more frightening now, I pulled and pulled on Flanagan’s reins but he kept going faster. Everyone was going very fast. A small stonewall came up in front of us and Flanagan jumped a very big jump and landed going even faster. Everyone except Flanagan suddenly stopped. I carried on. Luckily, he stopped quickly when he realised the other horses had stopped. I stopped somewhere on his neck, lucky not in the mud!
Now we stood still for a long time. First I was hot, then I got very cold. The rain went through my gloves and the shoulders of Emily’s coat. I didn’t know why we couldn’t go again. Suddenly we were trotting down a lane. Flanagan tried to canter all the time and kept slipping, it was frightening. We turned sharply over a pole in a gate-way. Two people fell off! Flanagan seemed to like jumping. A child on a pony caught the loose horse of one of the riders, the other loose horse galloped away down the lane. I don’t know where it went to
Nobody cared. We cantered on, faster, there where poles made to jump in the hedges. Flanagan went past many horses even though I pulled at the reins. I lost sight of Vanessa, who was behind me. We ended up turning sharp into a farm-yard and stopping for some time. I then realized Flanagan had lost a shoe.No, to be full of truth, somebody told me, I didn’t notice anything much by then.
So, I tried to find my way back to the start.
And that’s antoher sort of adventure entirely
After this, I love England, I will come back always!! I wish I had fotos but I didn’t have the camera and if I did, it would not be good, with my hands so full of reins all day.
But, what an adventure. Another time, if you like, I tell you about hunting elks in Sweden, very different.
Yours most sincerely, Gunilla


	Below are photos from the Devon and Somerset Staghounds, sent in by a keen hunter from Winsford, who has managed to take these photos whilst actually hunting..




	And below, is a photo of another hunt, believed by the photographer to be the Dulverton West Foxhounds, here seen hunting with an Eagle Owl in a law-abiding manner.A great risk is that of cricked necks.