365-2-50

365-2-50

Thursday 26 December 2013

December 26th 2013

 
A bit of a different posting from me today. Today Julie and I attended the Tedworth Hunt Boxing Day Meet in the centre of Pewsey in Wiltshire. And we loved it.
 
I'm not a hunting man but I do, or hope I do, understand the needs to manage the British countryside and as such hunting, fishing, shooting along with farming, forestry, nature reserves and countryside management all make up the rich patchwork of rural life. Hunting divides opinion in a way that many other field sports do not; I fully understand some people hunt, some people are anti hunting and I suspect the majority are like me have no strong opinions. However I do feel that to have an opinion one should gain experience before offering that opinion. For me I've enjoyed watching hunting every time I've seen hounds on the run, and while the desire to get on a horse has never entered my mind, the thrill of hearing the hunting horn has never left me since first hearing it in Northumberland when I accidentally became entangled with the West Percy while out walking as a teenager.

 
On that day, as with today I found the hunt staff absolutely lovely. Although a keen horsewoman Julie had never been to a hunt meeting before so as we chatted to one of the non-mounted hunt staff, we explained this was a first visit. The lady couldn't have been more patient with our questions, explaining in detail what would happen today (including we would be welcome to sample the free port and nibbles), where the horses and hounds would go, and when the hounds arrived she pointed out who the Lady Master was, the Hunt staff and what would happen after they set off. I politely asked if I could take photographs and she said I could. By 11am I was astonished at how big the crowd was who'd come out to see the 30 or so horses and about the same number of hounds. The carpark being used as the meet venue was absolutely packed with what must have been heading towards 1,000 people chatting to everyone else in the very informal way whilst the port and mince pies were handed around. At 11.30 the huntsman sounded his horn, the hairs on the back of my neck once more bristled, and off they went for a days legal hunting in the Vale of Pewsey.  Some may find this blog entry uncomfortable to read, and I accept that point of view, for me though the wonderful 2 hours we spent mingling amongst hunt followers confirmed this is an important part of the rural scene and I am one who hopes this tradition carries on for a very long time to come. 
 

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