Thirlings 1983- looking back on an exceptional February day

28th December 2001

Martin Letts

February is the most likely month for a real hunt when foxes range wide to court a vixen and postpone a hasty dinner in their interest, and there is often a scent in wintry conditions.

Such a day occurred on 26/2/83, when hounds met at Thirlings, the hospitable home of the Reddihough family who though no longer active foxhunters, remained supportive of hunting for very many years.

Hounds had not been out for a week due to severe frost and a snowfall, but a thaw on the Friday made it just possible to hunt though the ground was still treacherous on the bare fields and north faces, and elsewhere the going was deep. There was a long draw in a cold westerly wind, and by the time hounds struck a line in Crookhouse dean, the glow of the Reddihoughs hospitality had long dissapated.

Two and a half couple turned off the hill to the Bowmont water, whilst the body of the pack turned short about the dean and checked -they were hunting the vixen. Time for a brisk intervention, and we were soon slipping and sliding down treacherous going in pursuit of the hounds on the right fox. This was achieved only after crossing the Bowmont water which was bank high, and those smoking a nerve steadying cigarette on Crookhouse hill awaiting our return never saw hounds again.

Fortunately the lead hounds had checked on Kilham hill amongst sheep, and a nudge towards the Deal's Den soon had the pack driving up the Westnewton march wall to the Elsdonburn trees with the field squelching and sliding on ground that had but recently been a snowfield. Elsdonburn forestry is often a setback to a hunt, 200 acres of trees and poorly rided and full of foxes.

Today, however there was a sinister determination in the hounds and the fox kept to the edges of the cover and found no substitute, and some twenty minutes later 12 couple were viewed in a tight bunch out in the open making for the Shank house and their music blown to us on the wind suggested to the cognescendi that we were in for a hunt.

We were short of 5 couple so Richard Suter had to turn back. After a check on Shotton hill, the fox crossed and recrossed the Yetholm road with hounds accurately swinging to his line, and the apparent indecision of the fox indicated the determination of the hounds and to the huntsman that we were hunting the original fox and he was clearly out of his country so we were in for a notable hunt.

At the Pawston duckpond the pace steady till now began to improve and the hounds began to run on with increased music. A cresendo of cry indicated they were swimming the Bowmont short of the Mindrum bridge and after a detour round the road on the part of the riders to the Downham road end, there was but a solitary tail hound surmounting Barley Hill indicating hounds onto forbidden territory.

Three came on Julie Robb to close the gates and my wife to open them, and Andrew Wailes-Fairbairn with the field opted for a straight necked fox and made for a detour by the Hagg.By the time the three of us, with our heads down to avoid being seen, surmounted Downham there was only faint cry and footprints in the snow drifts to give us a guide across the Moneylaws and Barleyhill arables , but once onto Thornington we could hear hounds going through Howtel quarry and climbing the steep of Redesford hill.

By the time we reached the road at Howtel hounds were just going into Crookhouse Dean with a grey horse in slow pursuit -Teresa Smalley had adopted a different detour to the field and had rejoined hounds beyond Thornington, so now a mile in the rear with a beaten horse the huntsman opted for motorised transport, and a trip to Westnewton braes was rewarded by the sight of hounds perservering across Crookhouse ploughs on a failing scent, and nearly the complete pack as Richard Suters five couple of hounds collected from Elsdonburn had rejoined the pack.

Hounds worked their way up Crookhouse to recross the Bowmont once more to throw up at Westnewton. Fortunately Edward Douglas Home reported that a few hounds had driven up the Farm track to the Staw, and a cast beyond revealed the lead hounds furiously marking their fox at a small rabbit burrow at the foot of Westnewton hill. Reinforced by the body of the pack the fox was soon extricated and it was who-oop after 4 hours, 20 miles as hounds ran and two separate points of 5 ½ miles as considerable a marathon as any in recent history.

Alas so many of the field were thrown out at the finish, where was Bobby who would risk his neck over a 5 bar gate any day of the week - to-day on a lame horse, Andrew Wailes-Fairbairn intrepid in pursuit of hounds but thrown out to-day by forbidden territory and the wrong option to navigate it, and the field with him, Teresa on her gallant grey down to a walk through the inclines of Crookhouse hill, Fred and Heather still awaiting a favourable turn that never came, and he unforgiven for more than a week and bold Daphne, her hunting blood well apparent in her cheeks, but now pallid through loss of sleep at missing the finish of a fine hunt.

Teresa's husband Basil encountered the hunt horses on the way home. "Those are two tired horses" he remarked to my wife. "Wait till you see your wife's" she responded "he had two shoes missing and that was 10 miles short of the finish"! A tired pack of hounds returned to the kennels to feed and toss and turn with twitching limbs as they remembered every turn and twist of a great chase with the right finish and these hang on the memory of the huntsman as if it was yesterday just like an early morning from Mindrum on Oct.1st 1998 - but that's another story.