FOR the second time this season, and only the third time in 20 years, the hunt is meeting here on foot owing to a heavy frost. Perhaps it's just as well, as I didn't check the tide table when I agreed to the meet and there would not be space for horses and hounds on the beach. We gather in the yard instead, prudently keeping the chickens shut up until hounds have moved off.
As I weave through the pack holding sausages aloft, I reflect that, if there are any class warriors from Edinburgh hoping for photographs of posh people in hunting kit (there aren't as far as I can tell, but you can never be sure), they will be disappointed to find what looks like a shepherds' convention, with rustic folk on quad bikes in woolly hats and assorted agricultural garments of interesting provenance. Only the sight of gorgeous blond manes released from their customary hairnets gives a clue that this is no ordinary group.
The antis' narrative might also be spoilt if they meet our masters: George, our huntsman, a former jockey who shears sheep to help make ends meet when not devotedly looking after his hounds; Bud the Builder, under whose RSJ we eat breakfast; softly-spoken Gary the Joiner; and Corrina, who somehow finds the time to escape from juggling motherhood with a frenetic bed-and-breakfast operation to field master on weekdays.
Denne historien er fra February 15, 2023-utgaven av Country Life UK.
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Denne historien er fra February 15, 2023-utgaven av Country Life UK.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
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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
