Magical Moments

With hounds hunting fantastically all day — even into darkness — the future looks bright for the South Dorset

- Beanie Sturgis

South Dorset, Church Farm

COUNTING hounds through a gate by the light of a telephone torch is an absolute first for me. We have all hacked home in the dark after finishing in fading light, but pitch-black, bump-in-the dark blindness is another thing altogether.

At 4.20pm, as the November light started to give up, South Dorset master and amateur huntsman Toby Coles decided to draw a last bit of covert. There was just him, his equally hunting-obsessed wife Callie, me and kennel-huntsman Ryan Walpole-Johnsen.

The pressure was off and we were having a quiet wander back through Ian Sargent’s Hay Wood. The hope was about to die as the lorry was less than 100 yards away. Then, a rather deep-voiced hound opened. I mistook her voice for one of the old English bitches.

“Listen, that is Cactus — she has a very deep voice, especially when she goes at full steam,” explained Toby.

It was 4.40pm. Within a few seconds all 16½ couple of these vivacious bitches were giving it their all; my pulse upped and we took off on an exhilarating quick, sharp hunt with visibility decreasing by the second. When there is only yourself, the huntsman and his wife in sight there is no choice but to keep with them: he who hesitates is lost and all that.

We skirted the covert, racing away across some lovely grass. They checked, were quietly nudged in the right direction, screamed again into the far end of the covert and through. We slogged up a long hill, round the top and flew down the other side.