An Amazing Country

Capt Ian Farquhar finds much to admire in the country, mastership and hounds at the Zetland, despite inclement weather

FOLLOWING a very dry autumn, it has undoubtedly been something of a change to have had quite such a wet prelude to Christmas. Such conditions have normally been the catalyst for a good scenting time, but it has also thrown up difficult days.

Thus, it was exactly that for a recent visit to the Zetland — a force nine gale and driving rain that had started the night before continued practically throughout the day. A great pity, as I had heard such good reports of how huntsman James Finney, now in his second season, was getting on and what good sport he and his new whipper-in Harry Horton were showing.

The Zetland is still an amazing country; in the old days, it was not referred to as the Leicestershire of the North without good reason, with miles of rolling grass, grazed by sheep mostly, fine viewing and crossable on a horse, with formidable walls in places but very negotiable, running up to the grouse moors in the western side of the country.

The hounds originally belonged to the Dukes of Cleveland, then the Zetland's, before the Barnards, although it was Lord Darlington who hunted the Raby country for 37 years, feeding his own hounds, and who had inherited Raby Castle plus 50,000 acres. He famously turned to his agent, who was with him when returning from hunting, and said: “This farm looks a bit rundown, who owns it?”

“You, M’lord.”

“Oh dear, do I? If that’s the case, then I want all my farms painted white so that we don’t make the same mistake again.”