Fox Hunting Life with Horse and Hound

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Here you will find reviews of, selections from, and commentaries concerning books, many of which don't even appear on Amazon's radar. But what goldmines for the literate foxhunter!

A Bright Hunting Morn: The 125th Anniversary of Radnor Hunt

Bright Hunting Morn: The 125th Anniversary of Radnor Hunt, The Derrydale Press, 2008, 357 pages, four-color, 10-1/4 x 14 inches (large format), glossy, ISBN 1-58667-111-1

"...beautiful tome, written and crafted with great attention to detail....wonderful vintage photographs and gorgeous artwork....magnificent." (Covertside, Spring 2009)

BrightHuntingMorncoverThis article from The Philadelphia Inquirer on November 29, 1889 was reproduced in Bright Hunting Morn: The 125th Anniversary of Radnor Hunt by Collin F. Mc Neill. The merits of the English and the American hounds were being argued by their respective proponents even then!



thumb_AntithesisBookOneCvrElliott is a nice girl from a proper Southern family and, so far, has only been interested in horses...until she sees Griffen – an electrifying horseman who stops her heart at a foxhunt. But will his fear of reliving a dark past be strong enough to keep him away from her? Does she even want to be protected from who he is likely to be?

Recommended for young adult foxhunters!


Cadence of Hooves: A Celebration of Horses

cadence-of-hoovesIf you like poetry and if you like horses, here is a big anthology of perhaps 300 poems by more than 170 leading contemporary poets. The collection was selected and edited by Suzan Jantz, editor of the Yarroway Mountain Press, The California State University Research and Creativity Foundation provided a grant for the project.

Cadence of Hooves contains a broad range of horse-centered poems by horse lovers from every discipline. With permission, from time to time FHL will bring you selections from this lovely book. For the first such offering, here is a favorite of mine by 1986 Pulitzer Prize winner Henry Taylor.

Memoirs of a Foxhunting Man

Extracted and condensed from Memoirs of a Foxhunting Man, Part Seven, Chapter II.

siegfried sassoonBritish author and war poet, Siegfried Sassoon

October arrived; the drought broke with forty-eight hours’ quiet rain; and Dixon had a field day with the new clipping machine, of which it is enough to say that the stable-boy turned a handle and Dixon did the rest. He had decided to clip the horses’ legs this season; the Ringwell was a bad country for thorns, and these were, naturally less likely to be overlooked on clipped legs, which also were more sightly and dried quicker than hairy ones.

Resplendent in my new red coat, and almost too much admired by Aunt Evelyn and Miriam, I went off to the opening meet by the early train from Dumbridge to Downfield. Half an hour’s ride took me to the kennels, where I joined an impressive concourse, mounted, in vehicles, and on foot. The sun shone after a white frost, and everyone was anxious to have a look at the new Master. My new coat was only a single spot of color among many, but I felt a tremendous swell all the same. Familiar faces greeted me, and when we trotted away to draw Pacey’s Plantation, old Mr. Dearborn bumped along beside me in his faded red coat and blue and white spotted birds-eye cravat. “This horse ought to have one of you young chaps on his back!” he exclaimed. “Jumps too big for an old buffer like me; never known him to put a foot wrong, clever as a cat—(hold up, will you!)...his clever hunter having tripped badly on some stones.

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