AN Aga adornment, a loyal and loving attendant, an able and enthusiastic hunting machine, sometimes boisterous and, at other times, quietly contemplative, the Sealyham terrier is a multifaceted canine beloved by farmers, footballers’ wives, the showing fraternity, actors and the aristocracy.
Longish, quite low to the ground, propped up on succinct legs ending in substantial paws and boasting copious amounts of facial hair (if not brought into contact with the groomer’s clippers), which includes a bushy moustache punctuated by a prominent ebony nose, these personable dogs characteristically come in a white hue, but their uniformity can be interrupted in some by patches of black or brown.
Today, a dozen working Sealyhams are in hunting mode on a West Country farm. Having failed to locate a rodent in the hen house, they are now loping through long ryegrass, tongues lolling, short, sharp pants the only sound from these focused creatures that never seem to bark. Here is the quiet and unassuming Enid, the empathetic Tilly, fiercely loyal Grace and the exceptional ratter Peggy. Striding ahead at the front of the pack is Harry Parsons, dressed in a burnt-orange and mustard-yellow check shirt that rivals the weather for its sunny demeanour. Almost single-handedly, 64- year-old Mr Parsons has also brightened the future prospects of this breed that has frequently stared into the abyss of extinction —and, indeed, still does to an extent.
This story is from the {{IssueName}} edition of {{MagazineName}}.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber ? Sign In
This story is from the {{IssueName}} edition of {{MagazineName}}.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 9,000+ magazines and newspapers.
Already a subscriber? Sign In
Tales as old as time
By appointing writers-in-residence to landscape locations, the National Trust is hoping to spark in us a new engagement with our ancient surroundings, finds Richard Smyth
Do the active farmer test
Farming is a profession, not a lifestyle choice’ and, therefore, the Budget is unfair
Night Thoughts by Howard Hodgkin
Charlotte Mullins comments on Moght Thoughts
SOS: save our wild salmon
Jane Wheatley examines the dire situation facing the king of fish
Into the deep
Beneath the crystal-clear, alien world of water lie the great piscean survivors of the Ice Age. The Lake District is a fish-spotter's paradise, reports John Lewis-Stempel
It's alive!
Living, burping and bubbling fermented masses of flour, yeast and water that spawn countless loaves—Emma Hughes charts the rise and rise) of sourdough starters
There's orange gold in them thar fields
A kitchen staple that is easily taken for granted, the carrot is actually an incredibly tricky customer to cultivate that could reduce a grown man to tears, says Sarah Todd
True blues
I HAVE been planting English bluebells. They grow in their millions in the beechwoods that surround us—but not in our own garden. They are, however, a protected species. The law is clear and uncompromising: ‘It is illegal to dig up bluebells or their bulbs from the wild, or to trade or sell wild bluebell bulbs and seeds.’ I have, therefore, had to buy them from a respectable bulb-merchant.
Oh so hip
Stay the hand that itches to deadhead spent roses and you can enjoy their glittering fruits instead, writes John Hoyland
A best kept secret
Oft-forgotten Rutland, England's smallest county, is a 'Notswold' haven deserving of more attention, finds Nicola Venning
