Kielder Hunt, history notes
by Sam Dodds
ONE OF THE BEST hunting songs comes from the border country of Northumberland, that describes a custom soon to be remembered as a ritual pastime of the past. THE ARISTOCRACY hunted deer and boar in the royal forests in Norman and Middle Age England, protected by law, with severe punishments for poachers.
Land owners were invited to join in the fun. With the laws introduced to protect the hunted species, the zealous hunters required another quarry.
Why hunt foxes?
They turned to hunting foxes in the late 1600s leaving the forests for open country. So from hunting animals to provide food for sport, they turned to hunting vermin for sport! Hounds were trained to hunt the fox, with the qualities of strength and stamina to outlast the fox in the chase.
Each hound with its own name as well being identified by the farm where it was reared. In more recent times hounds have been reared and housed in kennels run by the Hunt, but in the past they were kept on the farms of the landowners.
Lang Will describes the chase in song!
In time the Hunt became a sport for the farm labourer and shepherds, having to keep a respectful distance from their betters close to the action, a release from the tedium of toil on the land.
Taiaut!
The Norman huntsman’s cry when the stag has run fo its life - now anglicised as "Tally-ho!"
The lithe shepherd lads follow on foot scrambling up the fellsides and over the screes in the exhileration of the sport, and all respond to Lang Will’s cry :
Hark, Hark! that’s Moudy’s loud clear note He’s sniffed bold Reynard’s drag
The fox breaks cover followed by the hounds on its scent, their yelping chorus music to the ears of those in the hunt. The Master of the Hounds, traditionally in red coat, sounds the hunting horn, and leads off the chase on horse back, urged on by huntsmen and spectator alike.
The fox is out for new places of safety, any hole that can be found. The Master of the hunt urges on the hounds with a crack of the whip.
Hark forrit hark, ye gallant hounds,
Hark onward hark away
Eventually the fox has no alternative but to go to ground, but that is no place of sanctuary.
The wiry terrier game and keen is sent to crawl down the holes to oust the fox and away the chase begins anew over the moorlands of Northumberland.
All the senses come into play: the smell of the chase, sae glorious is the din. The hounds catch up with the fox, now in a state of total exhaustion:
Weel done, hurrah, they’ve run him down,
Yon’s Moudy twirls him now;
The fox’s brush, the trophy prize at the end of the chase, is proof of the huntsmens’ triumph, so worthy of acclaim. This mutual congratulation of those who participate in this victory of achievement is celebrated in the traditional toast to the health of the Huntsmen and their skill.
An exhilerating song to sing, but can leave me with very mixed emotions.
The Trophy won
Fox-hunting: a sport to kill?
Foxes are fair game to be hunted by hounds, or like bear-baiting and cock-fighting, is fox-hunting to be viewed as unacceptable acts of barbaric cruelty?
Foxes are vermin, like rats, to be disposed of, albeit hummanely, but how can this be achieved?
Should the kill on horse-back be enjoyed?
And what about the grouse, the pheasant or the fish in the river?