Beagling In Ireland
Beagling In Ireland
Dedicated to the Memory of John Shaw Brown
Boxing Day 2009 and I was crawling along the dual carriageway in a deep drift of snow in my old van. I was heading about 2.5 hours away to a meet with the Hounds and had been looking forward to it for a couple of weeks, a bit of snow wasn’t going to hold me back. I stopped a few times to empty water from a bottle onto the windscreen as the washer had stopped working and now and again and David who I had collected enroute would hand me a pie every now and again from a large tin I had sitting on the passenger floor. They were rabbit pies; he and I had ferreted all December and I had spent an evening making a few dozen as I always do around Christmas. I make them 12 at a time in a mince pie baking tray and they are the same size as a mince pie. “I boil the rabbits for an hour or so, strip the meat off the bones and mix it with Chorizo and a few herbs and then stick them in the oven for 15 minutes” I said to Dave as we gorged our way through the tin. “Ok Gordon Ramsey, but where is this yard, we’ve been driving for two hours now”! Another 15 minutes or so and we drove into the yard where the meet was taking place. It was actually where the hounds used to be kennelled long before I hunted with them and as we drove in and I braked up and pulled on the handbrake, the van started to slide side ways down the yard very slowly until David’s side was lodged tight against the wall and I couldn’t get back or forward to let him out. He had to climb out through the driver’s side and had so many layers on and had also eaten so many rabbit pies in the last two hours it wasn’t an easy task!
We were the first to arrive, and little by little other cars, vans and jeeps appeared in the yard until the old Mazda truck rumbled up the lane and a cheery John Shaw Brown sprung out, white shorts, flat cap and a smile. John Shaw was huntsman and Joint Master and I have never met anyone as keen on Beagling in my life and doubt I ever will. To say he lived and breathed his hounds sounds cliché but it really is true and there was little in his life above hounds and hunting and his wife. He kennelled them at his house& aside from work, spent all his time with them. I actually rarely saw him out of his hunting clothes or brown kennel coat and any time I did he always looked rather strange wearing ordinary clothes! That particular morning we set off in the snow, John Shaw had suggested to me that it might not be a great day as he had not saw a Hare on this ground all season and after 3 hours walking it was looking like he was right. As Dave and I walked down a field with a few hounds a hundred yards or so in front they began top speak, we stupidly run to catch up with them and had to get over an electric fence. I quickly stepped over, skidded on wet grass and went down, putting my hand out to save myself I planted it on the cable and got the best ½ second of electric shock I ever got from a fence while Dave killed himself laughing. By the time I got up and he stopped laughing the hounds were long gone so we got up higher for a view and it was a while before we caught up with them again. They day wore on and the winter sun hung low as we walked back. Dave was looking forward to a pie and I was dreading the long drive home in the snow. Lost in my own thoughts and wondering why I didn’t take the Lurchers out closer to home instead of taking a 5 hr round trip for a walk, I felt something brush my foot. “A Hare” Dave called, you almost kicked it up! We hollered to John Shaw who ran back towards us, the hounds winded the Hare and off they went, for the next 30 minutes or so they had a fantastic hunt which took them past us twice as we stood on a hill and were able to view most of them action from. By the time John Shaw called off it was near dark and I had the long drive home again in the snow with David still eating pies (and handing me one) all the way home. I spoke with John Shaw a few days later and he was as jolly as ever and very excited we had rise the Hare. “Great that you got to see a Hare and the hounds got a bit of a run” he said, you will have to come along again, the next place will be much better. He was so enthusiastic about the Hounds and hunting and never missed a chance to encourage anyone to tag along especially the younger generation of Beaglers. Over the next few years I hunted across the country with the pack and made many lifelong friends in doing so. In 2009 we went across to the Rhydal Hound Show for a few days and it was only Cumbria and it was only a Hound Show but it was really just an incredible few days. Everything I heard and read about the Fells and the Fell packs, the men and the hounds and the terriers just fell into place driving to steep windy roads to Troutbeck. Coming from Ireland and much to my regret never having explored much of the countryside of England I was in complete awe. Up until this time I personally hadn’t met many other followers outside the pack I hunted with, but quickly bumped into the a few lads and ladies where I was staying and at the local watering hole. The comradery and understanding between hunting people is something special and it was almost like a home from home. As a few of us travelled separately, John Shaw had the old hound truck and he and his wife Liz travelled after us and got on the second ferry which ment he should have arrived shortly after us at around 6 o’clock that evening in Ambleside. He did arrive but it was well after midnight and himself, Liz and ten couple of hound were being towed by the AA from Carlisle! Mechanics were never his strong point and we suspected that checking the oil in the engine which was now ceased was not on his list!
The show itself was an interesting day, there was packs and hounds of all types and the sights, smells, sounds and atmosphere was just incredible. I spent the morning with Tommy Rowan from the pack, a fantastic little Belfast man who worked terriers and kept strong dogs in his earlier years and has hunted with hounds longer than I have been around. We went into a small tent full of historical hunting memorabilia and Tommy filled me in on everything, usually with a story attached! John Shaw could barely get a few feet in the field without meeting someone from the other end of the country that hunted and with the many hands he shook and faces that smiled to see him I knew it wasn’t just at home he was held in high regard. In the afternoon he threw me a white jacket and said “off you go” you can take these two into the bitch class and before I knew it, I was in a ring juggling bits of dry dog food and holding the Hounds attention for a Judge! We must have done alright because I remember he pinned a rosette to my jacket and unknown to me he pinned it right through my shirt which I tore taking off!
The Irish Hare as you will know is a slightly different animal than the Brown, we have Brown Hares here but not in any number but they do pop up occasionally although I have only ever saw one here and it was immediately obvious. The Irish is different, smaller in size with shorter ears and many claim it to be slower than the Brown – I cantsay for sure as I have little experience of Brown Hares. Irish hares aren’t difficult to find in some areas and any low lying field with a few rushes, or a dry bit of what they call “Bog” in Ireland which is sort of Moorland and you should usually come across a Hare or two although they are definitely not as numerous as the Brown in England.
The best hunting I have ever experienced with the hounds was on “Bog” ground and it was an area of some 4000 acres on the West Coast of Ireland we travelled to for a few days at the beginning of the season each year, a tradition the pack had kept up since their first invitation some years before. It a massive area and is thick with brown heather except it is relatively flat as far as the eye can see and really hard to walk through in most places. The days were still a bit longer when we hunted here in September or early October and the weather usually dry too. We always had the pleasure of staying in a rather large Victorian house which still had a purpose-built kennel, which previously held a fox hound pack so it was ideal for the hounds for the few days we stayed. Saturday morning began with a massive breakfast and then we boxed the hounds and headed off on the 20-minute drive to meet up with another pack from Limerick which at times made up a joint pack of maybe 25 couple of hounds, now that really gets the hair standing on the back of your neck when they are in full cry across an Irish Bog on a sunny morning! John Shaw was as fit as he was enthusiastic and he never failed to keep up with the hounds no matter if it was a Bog, uphill or even across a river and I remember one very frosty afternoon when some young hounds crossed a river after some older ones that had sprung a deer by accident and were having trouble getting back. John Shaw swam across and carried them back one or two at a time, got back and caught up with the rest in wet shorts on a day I had two layers on! I met him over an hour later, still running, still wet and still smiling! It was such a shock that in 2014 John Shaw died after a brief illness and even when things weren’t the best for him he was still smiling and still loved talking about hunting right until the end. He was oneof oneIrelands not only finest Huntsmen, joint masters & hunting legends of our time, but a gentleman in every sense of the word, a great character and a genuine friend to manypeople both in and out of hunting circles. Known right across Ireland and the British Isles for not only being a fantastic Huntsman, but for his friendly attitude, witty intellect and his fantastic attitude to life! It is true to say that John Shaw dedicated his life to hunting and his hounds and took immense pride in their performance, appearance and breeding and this was very obvious to anyone who met or hunted with him.
I only knew John Shaw, regrettably a few years, but in that time he gave me a lot, if I am honest…He gave me a lot more than many people I have ever crossed paths with. To be in the company of John Shaw was to be alive, it was to feel his energy, his enthusiasm, his drive and his inner passion that burned in his soul and touched everyone around him. In the time I knew him and the many wonderful hours I spent in his company both here and in Cumbria I never saw him in anything but good spirits, even when his Hound truck blew up some years ago enroute to the Rydal Hound Show he laughed, smiled and carried on as he always did. The longest, wettest and hardest days hunting when we saw no Hares would be just as good as the best days because he made them good, always a smile, always full of good cheer. I will forever feel privileged to have known him & to have hunted with him, and even more so that I had the privilege to look after his hounds when he went for a few days off and took the pups with him! I still have the plan of the kennels he drew on a sheet of paper, every lodge mapped in detail, the name of every hound and even the telephone number for the vet! I will keep it forever in my old wooden box. When I look back at the great times I had with John Shaw, his wife Liz and the rest of my Beagling friends I will realise that they were some of the best of my life.
