20 February 2013
All things considered, this post should really be known as ‘Hunting for Leprechauns.’ My hosts were very happy to show me around and teach me about old Irish things, especially traditions that were common in the countryside. (And as most of Ireland seems to be countryside, I figure this worked out well.) While I did learn many new words, many of them centered around obstacles and terrain often seen out hunting, some of which are unique to the southeast part of Ireland. So during the previous day, as soon as I heard we would be hound exercising near a very old type of pasturage called a ‘fairy fort’ that they wanted to show me, I immediately asked if we would find any leprechauns.
That’s what anyone would do, right? I became determined to find a leprechaun or at least some kind of mythical, magical creature near the fairy fort… whatever that might be.
From Derek’s place in New Ross, we hacked roughly five minutes (at a walk) to the Wexford Harrier’s kennels. We met the huntsman and another whipper-in at the entrance and then took another hack out to the area where we would be exercising, which turned out to be near the plantation where I had done my drain-training the day before.
Believe it or not, this is NOT a one-way street. It’s just an Irish country lane, with little or no speed limit markers.
As we continued along, we turned off to move down the hill and through a driveway. Little did I know that there I would find my first leprechaun already! (This is ‘String,’ a supporting member of the Wexford Harriers.) Although the leprechaun was a bit shy and only appeared after the hounds had moved along, and the rest of the huntsmen didn’t get the chance to see him in his natural habitat, I was patient and managed to get a picture of the elusive creature.
Found one!
We continued down to the fields slowly, and it felt like a fun, leisurely trail ride with all the hounds hanging out with us. I felt almost like I was part of the staff with all the camaraderie and easy-going nature of the people I went out riding with.
The completely black one is actually a Labrador.
We took a slow hack around the fields, jumping some drains and letting the hounds run around and frolic along the drains. As it was just an exercise, we weren’t concerned about moving very quickly ourselves or sending the hounds out to specific coverts. We were, however, interested in showing me around and after circling a few fields we came upon the fairy fort.
I wasn’t really sure what I was expecting, but something much smaller along the lines of a ‘fairy ring’ or a circle of stones. No, this was actually a field roughly an acre in size and completely surrounded by a natural looking wall… or really, the more I looked at it, the more I decided it looked like a reverse drain. Instead of huge ditches, the ancient Irish had built up steep walls of stone and dirt to keep their livestock separate. As farms became larger over the years, or land changed hands, many of these walls were no longer necessary and were allowed to erode or taken down. Some however, grew trees to help the walls keep their shape and as time passed, many people forgot what their original purpose was. This is when they became ‘fairy forts’ as some decided the rather perfectly square structures must have been created by magical creatures. Being in Ireland, I think they should have been leprechaun forts, but then it would lose its lovely alliteration.
One corner of the ancient fairy fort. The sides are worn in some places where we pass through with the horses frequently!
We continued our walk around the fields, and just as we were about to leave–in fact, just as we returned to the road back up the kennels, the hounds picked up a fox scent. We heard the hounds start making some yelps of music, and then I watched as just a couple yards in front of me, a fox darted out of the covert and sprinted across the field. The hounds, relying on scent instead of sight, took a few moments before they picked up the hot scent and gave chase to the little rascal.
However, we quickly realized that only half the pack was following. The pack had split, and while a slight majority were going after the fox we had seen, the others were running in the complete opposite direction on the far side of the covert. Thinking we were unlikely to see any foxes, here we had found two foxes in the same covert. This is usually abnormal, except this was the very beginning of mating season… and so half the hounds chased the dog fox, and the other half went after the bitch fox. The huntsman went off immediately after the first group of hounds while the whips needed to cross a few drains to get around the other side of the covert to call back the hounds after the bitch fox.
Staying just behind Derek, my host whipper-in, I watched part in horror as he had a most spectacular fall off the Grey Three Year Old. While getting around to the other side of the covert, he approached the double drain as usual, but when Grey Three Year Old landed on the center divide, he started to slide back down into the muck of the drain. Not wanting to get stuck with the horse, Derek did the most commonly practiced technique in these circumstances and began an emergency dismount. With one foot over the middle of Grey Three Year Old’s back, Derek wasn’t expecting the horse to suddenly find purchase and lurch up to the top of the drain. His face connected neatly with the top of Grey Three Year Old’s skull, as he was leaning forward to get off the beast and the horse was jerking his head up to bounce up the drain.
In this precarious position, Grey Three Year Old decided to take the next drain immediately, and Derek, still only halfway on the horse and with a newly-broken tooth, did quite an excellent job of staying on over the drain. It was the landing when Grey Three Year Old did a quick left turn and began bucking down the side of the field that he finally fell… and landed with his leg on a rock.
(Of course, broken teeth and landing on rocks or in drains are a natural part of hunting in Ireland. Just as landing in blackthorn bushes with inch-long thorns that always turn septic if not removed immediately are a commonality in England. Makes the pine needles and moss of home seem positively inviting!)
Grey Three Year Old could be seen galloping up the road and after a couple shouts across the double drain, we heard an okay from Derek. At this point, Ciara was already on her way across, leaving Freddie in my capable hands alongside Grey Horse.
From glimpses through the heavy brush and trees, I watched Ciara and Derek make their way up the road on foot in search of Grey Three Year Old. I followed, leading Freddie with me until I reached the gate at the top of the field (in which I then had to keep a filly away from the two of them as well… yes, there was a horse stationed in the field already). Ciara and Derek had turned away from the field at some point and as I began to wonder just how long I might be sitting here alone in an Irish field, only vaguely sure of where I was, Ciara came back to claim Freddie with news that Grey Three Year Old had trotted all the way home by himself and had been waiting for them at the front gate.
Just as she mounted back up, we found the hounds and the huntsmen returning towards us. Full of the usual Irish hospitality, the huntsman lamented how I had missed the excitement of the run and told me I could follow one of the other whips to crisscross some fields at a faster pace in a mock run. Thus, I followed Jemma through several fields, back around the fairy fort, and then up the road to join the returning hounds. At this point, I was starting to gain my eye for good jumping places along the drains, so I wasn’t always following exactly behind nor jumping only from spots someone directly in front of me was jumping. Happily, Grey Horse was just as steady and careful going solo as I expected him to be.
At the end of the exercise, I was pleased to have accomplished all my goals: finding a leprechaun and improving my drain-jumping abilities. And when we went back for tea, we got even another surprise:
More leprechauns! There we have the huntsman in front, and our previous leprechaun behind. THANK YOU!
Just another day in Ireland!
Gotta Love Foxhunting 