Friday with foxhounds. Again hard hunting hounds in lovely country. Fine loud cry and plenty of drive with precipitous coombes. Like this one...
Under the new dispensation of course we are nothunting foxes, so there is no holloaing of foxes. Since we are nothunting them. So imagine my difficulty when we heard hounds running about a quarter of a mile away down the end of the coombe. And then…
Up and over he came. And just after he slipped over the ride, along came a whipper-in with half the pack! Uh oh…
Nothing. Ten or twelve couple went right over that fox’ track no more than half a minute after he crossed, and not even a sniff! Talk about no scent! Yet the other halfish of the pack was roaring right along. Not on this fox I might add, their quarry went along the coombe at the other end.
1 comment:
Oh man I am trying not to be jealous. Look at that beautiful country! You are getting good with that camera too. Long live Exmoor and its beautiful deer, hinds, and hounds.
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