Part 1
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ADVICE ON FOX-HUNTING
ADVICE ON FOX-HUNTING
BY HENRY XVIII BARON WILLOUGHBY DE BROKE
WITH PREFACE BY HIS SON RICHARD GREVILLE
JOHN AND EDWARD BUMPUS LTD. 350 OXFORD STREET, LONDON, W. 1906
PREFACE
IN response to a suggestion that some of my father’s writings upon Fox-hunting should be collected and published in a separate volume, I have chosen the three papers contained in this book.
His claim to be heard rests upon accomplishments still fresh in the annals of the chase; it may, however, be of interest to recall that he became Master of the Warwickshire Hounds in 1876, availing himself of the services of a professional huntsman until 1881, when he commenced to carry the horn himself, and continued to do so till ill health caused his retirement in the autumn of 1898.
WILLOUGHBY DE BROKE.
KINETON, WARWICK.
CONTENTS
I. TO MASTERS OF HOUNDS 9
II. TO HUNTSMEN 29
III. TO WHIPPERS-IN 55
I
TO MASTERS OF HOUNDS
Advice on Fox-Hunting
I. TO MASTERS OF HOUNDS
THE first thing to be done on taking a country is to get the land and covert owners on your side. Write to all of them asking leave to draw their coverts, and express a hope that they will extend the same kindness in the preservation of foxes to you as they have always done to your predecessors.
I would advise as much compliance with the wishes of game preservers as is consistent with hunting the country fairly. But there is one thing I could never find it in my heart to do, which is, to stop the hounds when running hard for a game-preserver’s covert. If you are Master of a pack which belongs to the country, I say you have no right to spoil the hounds belonging to the county gentlemen by disappointing them in this way. No; by all means steer clear of the shooting-parties, and meet the shooter’s wishes as much as you can, but by no means, and for no man, stop your hounds when running.
I should never advise anyone to take a country in which there is an old-established huntsman, a favourite with everyone, and one whom it would be something like high treason on your part to dismiss. He will be master, not you. You will simply be a paying machine to settle all the bills and mount him, and he will constantly be grumbling about his horses, and perhaps will even give vent to his feelings in his speech at your puppy-show luncheon. Far the best plan is to start fresh with your own man, keeping perhaps one of the old staff to show the rest the way about at first. Choose a man of fair experience, and above all do not listen to the accounts of hunt-servants’ riding, and be led into taking on one of the boys who get huntsmen’s places in these modern days. The majority of hunting-men seem to think that, if a man or a boy will only jump big places, he must be a good huntsman, and boys get pitchforked into good places as huntsmen before they know how to whip-in or even to behave. When I began hunting, whippers-in did not look to be huntsmen before they were well past thirty. Nowadays it is no uncommon thing to find the huntsman the youngest of the three servants. I do not mean to say that a huntsman should not ride; of course, he should ride up to his hounds and see how far they have carried the scent, but everyone can ride if he only gets a horse good enough; the difficulty is to get a man who knows when to ride, and will do so only to get to his hounds, and not to win the approbation of an ignorant field. But always mount your men well, if only for economy’s sake; they will take care of good horses, but will not do so of bad ones.
Be careful how you breed your hounds. In forming a pack you will have to be dependent, in a great measure, on sires from other packs. But do not be tempted to run after a hound because he has won at Peterborough, or is very good-looking, or is even said to be very good in his work, if he comes of a strain that you do not like, or if his pedigree contains a lot of soft blood, or if his ancestors come from a kennel that you cannot trust. A chance-bred foxhound is like a chance-bred racehorse: he may be very good at his work, but he is worthless for breeding. Not being carefully bred himself, the faults of his progenitors are certain to be reproduced in his offspring. There is a good deal of nonsense talked about looks in these days, but, depend on it, the best working hounds in a pack are never the worst-looking, though, of course, a real beauty, a Peterborough winner, may turn out useless in the field. This is a good lesson. Turn up his pedigree, and you will find where the mistake in his breeding has been made. Never breed from a hound in his first season. He may develop all manner of faults, and you cannot breed a fault out: you must stamp it out. Some people think that if you breed from a noisy bitch and a mute dog, or vice versa, you will have hit the just medium in tongue. Far from it. In all probability half the litter will turn out mute, the other half noisy. Of course, neither hound ought to have been kept, much less bred from. Always draft a mute hound. There is no fault so bad, and the better he is in his work the more harm he will do. Then there is straightness. Everybody in his heart of hearts likes his hounds straight. In my experience it is only those who cannot breed straight hounds who prefer crooked ones; some even go so far as to say that a straight hound cannot be good in his work! But I always notice that, when hound breeders of this sort happen to breed a straight hound, they are as proud of him as a hen is of one chick. Of course, you must have plenty of good walks to breed a good pack of hounds, so that you can mercilessly afford to draft mute, noisy, skirting, or lame hounds, without getting your pack too short. A puppy show and a luncheon after it are good things; but do not have your huntsman’s health proposed. Indulgence in post-prandial rhetoric save by the experienced is apt to be dangerous. If you, or your huntsman, or both of you, are new to the country, I should say certainly go cub-hunting yourself every morning, so as to learn the locality yourself, or show it to your huntsman, as the case may be. And let cub-hunting be cub-hunting; keep your hounds on the dark as much as possible, and never try to have a run across the open. No man can ride to the hounds, in the Midlands at anyrate, while the leaf is on the hedges, consequently fences get pulled about, gaps are made, the farmers’ stock, especially the grass bullocks, injured, and altogether much more damage done by a few horsemen than is done by many in regular hunting. In dry, hard weather the hounds’ feet get injured, and in any weather at all they run a risk of being spoilt. They check: no one is with them, off go some of the entry after a hare, taking most likely a few of the one- and two-seasoned hunters with them, and in about half-an-hour all the trouble you have taken in breaking during the summer and autumn is lost. Sport for the field cannot be said to begin till November 1, but it is in the two or three months prior to this that a pack of hounds is made or marred, and these months must be given up to the Master and Huntsman to make the pack. I am fairly astonished to see that some establishments have actually taken to advertising their cub-hunting fixtures. This is the height of folly. There is no greater nuisance than a parcel of men, women, and grooms, the two former most likely smoking, all of them out on fresh horses, and talking in the rides of a covert. The Hunt servants cannot get about to do their work, and the hounds get kicked. Never commit “the fatal mistake” of not beginning cub-hunting as soon as the corn is cut; and never take fright, and leave off, because the ground gets hard. To do this is ruination to your entry and to the one- and two-seasoned hunters, who will begin forty times wilder than the young ones. Breed your hounds with good legs and feet, and they will not take much harm, and if you do screw up a few old cub-hunting horses, what matter?
In breeding your hounds make up your mind what sort you like and stick to that sort. If you like Welsh hounds (of which I have little knowledge) breed Welsh hounds and have a Welsh pack; but if you prefer English hounds, try to breed them as good-looking as possible. In the Midlands I am quite certain that the best sort to aim at are the best-looking. I do not mean the largest-boned animals—they do not have to carry weight—nor do I insist on great spring of the ribs. There is a medium in all things, and ribs and bone must be kept up to a certain extent, or your hounds will look shallow, and, as Mr Bragg said, “only fit to hunt a cat in a kitchen.” But I will never believe that a hound tires because he is light of bone; my experience has been all the other way, against “that useless appendage,” as Lord Henry Bentinck called bone. In my opinion, the thing that makes a hound stoop to the scent easily is a good neck and shoulders, so that the hound is running at his ease and within himself all the time. I would never sacrifice necks and shoulders to bone, straightness, or ribs. But I hear someone say “Nose.” Well, I suppose there are hounds more tender-nosed than others, and if these are found out they should, of course, be bred from. But I am not quite sure that dash, intelligence, and perseverance do not ensure what is called a good nose. A hound may have ever such a sensitive organ of smell, but he is no use if he is shy, idle, or slack. Any hound will run hard on a real good-scenting day, but give me one who will try for you on a bad-scenting day; who will jump a gate when casting himself, and will jump it back again if he does not hit the line off; in short, one who is miserable if he is off the line, and does not go and contentedly lie down and lap in a pond. I have often been quite sorry for good hounds who have worked so hard to no purpose on a bad-scenting day. But these are the boys to keep and breed from; if one could get a whole pack of them, very few foxes would get away.
I think the best size for hounds is 23½ inches for dogs, and rather lower, but not much, for bitches. In a grass country no hound, however big, can jump a stake-and-bound fence with a ditch to him, to say nothing of bullfinches, and small hounds do get through these fences quicker and with less tailing than big ones. In a wall or bank country I do not suppose it matters so much, though I doubt whether big hounds are able to jump better than small ones. Foxes must be bustled to be killed. Mr Jorrocks says: “Full well he knows, to kill their fox they must have nose,” but also he knows “that to kill their fox they must press him at some period or other of the chase.”
There is great difference in foxes. Some come to hand easily, but there are some that will beat any pack of hounds, unless at some time or other in the run they are hard pressed for half-an-hour at least; indeed, there are some foxes who seem, over grass, in dryish weather, to be able to keep going nearly all day. It is certainly not bone which enables hounds to catch foxes of this sort. They must have good necks and shoulders, and they must be in tiptop condition. That is how the foxes are killed, by care and careful conditioning in the kennel, and by being in good heart and confidence, with plenty of blood.
Lastly, unless you are genuinely fond of hounds and hound breeding, do not have anything to do with their Mastership. The blanks in an M.F.H.’s career are many compared with the prizes. A good day and a kill in the open is a splendid thing. Everyone is pleased; the ride home seems short, and the port tastes well in the evening; but continuous bad luck, bad scent, and everyone taking a pleasure in telling you how well the neighbouring Hunts are doing is hard to bear. Still, it is a consolation when you get back among your hounds, which you have carefully bred yourself, to know for certain that the temporary loss of sport is not their fault, that they will do all they can for you, and that your turn must come again.
Buy your forage, and as many of your hunters as you can, from the farmers in the Hunt, and never use moss litter or any other substitute for straw.
II
TO HUNTSMEN
II. TO HUNTSMEN
STAY at home and look after your hounds. Remember Garge Riddel:
“Let fools go travel far and nigh, We bides at home, my dog and I.”
So stay at home and look after your dogs summer and winter, and do not go gadding about all the puppy shows in the kingdom. At your own puppy show, if your master is foolish enough to allow your health to be drunk, simply acknowledge the compliment, and do not follow the present practice of huntsmen in making what you doubtless think is a clever and facetious speech.
When the hunting season is over, and your young hounds will go pretty quietly without couples, get on the hacks and have the old hounds also out. I do not mean to fast exercise, but long walking exercise, keeping under the trees and in the shade as much as possible. Anything is better for hounds than lying all day on the hot flags. Give some boiled vegetables in the old hounds’ food this time of year. Young nettles gathered before they get tough and stingy are as good as anything. The young hounds will do very well on navy ship biscuits soaked and mixed with some good broth.
Towards the latter part of July, say about the time of the Peterborough Shows, you will begin to trot the old and young hounds along, and will find as many hares, deer, etc., as you can. Keep your hounds moving right up to cub-hunting, and have them on the light side to begin with, or if the weather is hot they will tire before the foxes, get disgusted, do themselves no end of harm, and will very likely leave the foxes instead of breaking them up properly. It is a grand thing for hounds if you can show them some riot just before throwing them into a covert where you are sure to find a litter of cubs. Allow plenty of time to get to the meet; five to six miles an hour is quite fast enough, but when cub-hunting you can travel a bit faster than in regular hunting. In cub-hunting always let the hounds find their own fox, and do not have him holloaed over a ride at first. Do not have him headed back, or held up till he is beat, and then do so for fear of changing. The more foxes you kill cub-hunting after good work for hounds, the steadier and keener your pack will be, but do not go and surround small places and pick up two or three foxes at once. This does not benefit the hounds more than killing one, and in a good country is wanton waste. Always dig your fox cub-hunting if he goes to ground in a practicable place. In regular hunting it is better to go and find another than to keep the field starving in the cold; but always remember that you cannot have steady hounds without plenty of blood, and that in a country where foxes are numerous, if the pack are riotous it is always the fault of the huntsman. So begin November with your hounds “blooded up to the eyes,” as Lord Henry Bentinck wrote. Never mind what people say about letting foxes have a chance and letting them go. In a small covert let the best foxes who break covert first go, and stay and kill the worst one, but never be tempted by what anybody says to try and have a run in the open.
It is all very well for those who come out. Their horses are fresh, as they have been standing about, while you and your whippers-in have been working yours hard. They can jump or not as they like, and if they lose the hounds they can go back to breakfast, while you and the whippers-in must stick to the hounds at all costs. Besides, the young hounds do not understand it at first, and simply follow the old ones, and do themselves no end of harm by getting lost, stopping in ponds, etc.
Always remember you are the servant of your master, not of the field, and his orders should always be not to get away in the open in the cub-hunting season.
In regular hunting the whole system is reversed. Then you try and get away with the first fox that leaves, presumably the best one. If you cannot get all the hounds, and at all events enough to go on with, because the pack are running another, do not stand blowing, still less move a field or two away and blow, but gallop back as quickly as possible, get up wind of your hounds, and blow them away. If by good luck they happen to throw up for a moment, out they will come to your horn, and you can lay both ends on the line together. Unless the fox goes straight away up wind, it is almost always better to blow your hounds out at a place where the fox has not gone, and lay them on all together. Always have one way of blowing when the fox is away—one that neither the field nor the hounds can mistake—and unless the latter are running very hard, you will see how they will come tumbling out to it. All hounds hate struggling in thick covert, and are more or less anxious to get away. But never be tempted to use this note for any other purpose. If you do, its charm is gone. You cannot, to quote Lord Henry Bentinck again, lie to your hounds with impunity. Indeed, in hunting a fox in the open you should hardly use your horn at all. I am no advocate for much horn; as Mr Vyner says, in season it is like a word: “How good it is”; but when it is blown I like it to give forth no uncertain sound, that everyone may know what is meant by it, hounds and all. If you are always blowing your horn, whether you want hounds or not, you might as well be playing the concertina for all they will care for it.
When you come to the first check it is almost a certainty that the fox has turned right or left. Of course, if a good one, he may turn again and make his original point, so do not sit still. Try and keep the field off the hounds, and encourage them to try, up wind at first if possible: the fox has most likely turned down wind, but the hounds will almost swing their own cast unaided up wind; and if the fox has turned in this direction and they hit him off, he is yours; nothing but an open drain can save him. Meanwhile, cast your eye well forward and down wind, and see if you can see the fox or anything suggestive, such as a man running, sheep running, or having run together, to show where he is gone. When the pack have finished their cast, then, and not till then, go to them: do not stand and blow; whisper a word of encouragement in their ears, and cast them, on the best scenting ground you can see, in a body in front of you. You will be able to keep the field off their backs much better in this way than if you started off jumping with the pack at your horse’s tail and all the hard-riding fools of the field mixed up with them. If the assisted up-wind cast and the down-wind cast both end in silence, it looks bad; but always remember that if your down-wind cast is a wide one the fox may have gone to ground short of it, or you may have cast over his line owing to a bit of bad scenting. All you can do then is to use your discretion. I remember a season or two ago, after having come a considerable way, the hounds threw up among a perfect sea of greasy wheat-fields, in which there seemed to be positively no scent at all. The orthodox casts having produced no result, I noticed there was one grass field about a mile and a half ahead—an oasis in the desert. I thought: “Well, the fox is lost anyhow, but if by good luck he has crossed that field, the hounds will show a line.” I cantered on, and they did show a line, with the result that we were able to keep on after the fox and eventually kill him in a neighbouring country.
When you come to a covert let your hounds hunt the line through it. I do not like the plan of having them whipped off the line and casting beyond it. Never take the hounds off their noses if you can help it. Similarly, when your fox is beat, and you see him before hounds, hold your tongue, and by no means take them off their noses unless you are perfectly certain you can give them a view. If the fox pops through a hedge and they do not see him, you will have lost a lot of time, as the hounds will not hunt for a few minutes, but will stand staring about, expecting to see the fox. The only time it is allowable to lift them after a beaten fox is when they are running for a head of open earth or a covert full of fresh foxes. But never, under any circumstances, go and ride the fox, leaving your hounds. I have seen many huntsmen do this, but I never yet saw one catch a fox by himself, though I have seen some very nearly do it.
Your fox is dead and the day over. Travel home quietly, and do not have the hounds hurried. Stop somewhere if the day has been very hard, and give your horses some chilled water or gruel if you can get it; but do not stop long, and never go inside a house, no matter whose it is. When you get home feed your hounds yourself, with judgment. The man who hunts the hounds should always feed them; not because feeding them makes them any fonder of you, but because the huntsman knows, or ought to know, how much each hound requires. Never let them eat to repletion; if you do, what is the result? In every pack there are some slow, shy feeders: while these are playing with their food the greedy ones are fairly gorging themselves. The next day’s hunting will find the light feeders some two or three fields ahead of the gorgers, to the detriment of the looks and sport of the pack. Years ago hounds were always washed after hunting. I do not think this a good plan—they will soon clean themselves in the straw; but if it is pouring with rain when you return to kennel, so that whatever you do you can make the hounds no wetter, I can see no harm in throwing some nice warm broth over them, and it certainly makes them look well the next day. Always have two lodging-rooms for your hunting pack: put them in one directly after feeding, and shift them into another for the rest of the night in about an hour and a half’s time. This will prevent a lot of kennel lameness, which is really rheumatism.