Before The Winter Took You

14 and a bit years is a good innings for any dog but more so a lurcher. They work hard, live fast and often die young – Many killed in lethal accidents. Running at high speed at night under a beam of light and often over rough and unpredictable ground isn’t the safest job and even in the daytime can be every bit as unpredictable.

Today I dug a grave behind the house for a lurcher that did make it to retirement but how she lasted that long I will never know. Like a cat with nine lives, she had so many near misses in her life it was unbelievable. She fell off a quarry face and lived, crashed into a flooded river at full speed on a frosty morning which spun her along for over half a mile before she got back out and that wasn’t to mention near misses with cars, a very bad injury on a cattle grid and somehow evading a very angry herd of cows in the dark and probably countless other things I have forgotten.

It was a warm Saturday evening in August back in 2010 and a friend and I had decided to go to the local pub. He arrived at my house early and we decided to have a beer before we left when I heard a bit of howling in the little garden shed at the corner of the yard. Inside had been converted into a whelping area with a large part sectioned off for a bed with a heat lamp and a vinyl floor outside it. The howling was my lurcher “Ruby” and earlier in the evening she had been wondering in and out but was now tearing the place up while singing loudly and quite obviously going into labour. The pub went on hold and over the next 8 hours “Ruby” delivered 7 healthy pups, all dark brindle in colour.

Ruby came from a fellow called Ciaran in Armagh who I still speak to now and again and was slightly older when I got her. I found out about her through a lad called Benny that I had given a couple of ferrets to and while she wasn’t for sale as such, she was available to the right home that might give her a bit of work – Ciaran wasn’t wanting rid of her but they had little or no rabbits in the area at the time and he knew it was best if she was kept busy, she wasn’t the type of bitch that like to lay about too long, being more on the intelligent side. I met Ciaran one Saturday morning and Ruby came to live with me. She was a great little bitch from the start. I will always remember her falling asleep in the garden a couple of hours after we got home, she behaved like she had been there all her life and I never had one bit of hassle with her. She paid no mind to sheep or chickens & played with ferrets like a puppy. I remember a few years later I had a hutch with three young polecat ferrets escape overnight and found them all asleep in the kennel with Ruby the next afternoon. If someone else told me that story I would not believe it, but it really did happen. Ruby had a knack for ferreting more than any dog I ever owned and watching her tip toe over warrens and snap rabbits from holes that I never even heard coming was amazing to see. She was equally as good on the lamp and many times she caught half a dozen rabbits from the seat before even running any. Once I dug out a ferret, pulled the rabbit in front of it out and started to back fill, the hole when Ruby started to dig at it. It was only a foot or so deep and she easily moved the sand and pushed her way forward before extracting another two rabbits from the same stop end, a trick she did more than once during her career. Really, Ruby is an article of her own and while she was by no means a legendary lurcher she would have been hard beaten for intelligence and a knack for rabbiting.

4 weeks

Anyway…With the 7 pups born and feeding, Ruby was content and my wife Joanne had a hospital appointment, so with next tpo no sleep complete I set off and couldn’t wait to get back to have a look over the pups again and maybe get my head down. After I dropped Joanne off and headed back home my phone rang and it was my friend that had been over the night before to go to the pub. “How did Ruby get on” he said. “Seven pups” I replied, “they are doing well and she is too”. He was actually sitting in my drive as he had called to see the puppies and I was driving home. I told him to go on in and have a look as Ruby wouldn’t mind at all and so he did while he was on the phone. “You must have been sleepy because there’s 8 here” he said. “No definitely 7” I checked them individually this morning” I said. “There are 8 here, count them when you get back” he said and we talked a bit more and said he would call again after lunchtime.

I arrived home, went in the back gate and into the shed and cast my eye over the pups feeding in a line. 1, 2, 3,4,5,6,7…8!, all dark brindle and a little blondie brindle one at the end. Had she not been an entirely different colour I would have assumed I was sleepy and miscounted but this was a new pup, a late one had been born after I left and I don’t know why but I decided she was staying.

Over the next eight weeks they did what puppies do and they ate, slept and wrecked the place! I put a small board across the shed door to contain them but it was no time before they could clear it and the little blonde pup that I named “Fudge” was always the first one over the board when they heard me banging the food bowl in the yard.
The time came for them to leave and while young “Fudge” stayed where she was the rest went to good homes with one dog pup going to Greg and Donna, a couple who would become and remain very good friends of ours. Greg was a very genuine hunting man and we had a few days out here and there over the years (many that we could laugh about now) and we still keep in touch although don’t see each other as much as we should, their pup that they named “Finn” had the odd injury problem now and again but did very well during his life and I saw him out a time or two and almost wished I had kept him. Nicky Power who lived quite far south was someone I could only describe as a gentleman took a lovely dog pup too & although we didn’t know each other at the time, we stayed in touch regularly and maybe a year ago or so he contacted me to tell me his “pup” as he still called him had just got too old and stiff and he had let him go. There was one or maybe two of the litter went to pet homes, and you could scoff but there is no point in lying about it! I didn’t really mind as long as the pups were looked after as getting a good genuine home for a lurcher isn’t always easy.

Finn 

The whole litter being born as they were was down to a missed call, I will explain. I had very much wanted to keep a puppy from Ruby, so before she broke, I went searching for a good stud dog, a collie whippet greyhound ideally but they were thin on the ground and I just couldn’t get the roustabout 4×4 type I was looking for, you know the canine Hilux variety of unbreakable lurcher! Eventually I came across a non ped whippet that was working very well and decided he might be suitable. I agreed to meet the owner the following Sunday and he sent me a number to give him a call when I was on the way. In the meantime, I stumbled across the exact type of collie whippet greyhound I was looking for but the guy that owned it I was unable to get in touch with, so the whippet would do, even though I knew in my heart it was a bad choice “Ruby” was nine years old, it was her last chance and as well as that I had agreed to use the whippet – I couldn’t go back and say “I think I have found something better”.

Ruby

The Sunday morning arrived and I was getting ready to make the couple of hours drive to the whippet stud and called the man to let him know but the phone number rang out. I tried several more times but nothing. Then out of the blue I got a call from the Collie whippet greyhound owner. He wasn’t far from the direction we were heading; he was happy to give me a service “as long as your bitch is working” and so I set sail to Gilford with “Ruby” in tow. Three hours later and we were heading home with the job done and I returned again a couple of days later “to be sure”. The stud dog was called “Paco” and had been bred by Fiona Devlin and the fellow who owned it was Darren Connolly, another person who I became very good friends with to this day. I didn’t know Fiona at the time but came to know and very much respect her. Fiona bred some fantastic dogs (and still does) and had the respect of all the lurcher lads I knew, she had a dog called Maverick, who for a number of years just won everything there was to win at the dog shows and game fairs and he was a fantastic looking dog. I was never much of a showing person. I think I showed Fudge twice and never won! But I did enjoy going to the odd show because the craic was brilliant – It was a period in time that I always look back very fondly on. The characters & stories that were around at that golden time were unforgettable.

Paco

Paco was a collie whippet greyhound, about 24” tts and like a little 4×4. Darren did a lot of work with him, usually he would slip off very early on a morning and I would be getting up to go ferreting at 7.30 or 8.00 o’clock in the morning and he would send me a picture of Paco in a field or on a bog or the side of a hill somewhere with something he had caught beside him. I contacted him the morning the pups were born to let him know and he replied that he was just leaving hospital as his son Shane had just been born, I stayed with Darren a few months later and that same little baby in a basket in the corner is now as tall as his father and looking very much like someone we could see playing football on tv in the future.

With the rest of the litter off to make their way in the world, Fudge and I had plenty of time on our hands to get used to things like ferrets, sheep, long nets and retrieving. All this was no problem for her. She was incredibly laid back and at times I thought maybe too laid back. As a younger person and maybe like younger people do with dogs, we are keen for the outcome, the result – We must know as soon as possible if this dog has the minerals that we so hope it has. Being born in August meant it would be a year before we could get out for flick with a lamp. I was incredibly strict with myself in those days! I wouldn’t dare think about lamping until September, now a late spin in August would be normal but back then, September it was and only if it was cold enough.

I can remember as clear as day the first night we stepped out. It was dark and windy; I opened the door of the little van I drove at the time and she jumped in the back as she was accustomed to doing. The lamp and battery pack were on the passenger seat and we went off a main road, onto a back road and eventually down a lane. I parked up, took Fudge from the back and she shook herself as she stood in the cool air, the slip lead round her neck. I put the lamp cord over my neck, put the lamp battery in the little gas mask bag over my shoulder and we went about 100yrds to a small gate and went through. I walked up a small slope for a few hundred yards, through a break in the hedge and out into a long strip of grass about 60yrds wide and a few hundred long. If I stuck left, we would cut the rabbits off and have a good chance and she needed every chance I could give her – This needed to be a success. I stayed left and got about one third of the way up the strip, a quick flick with the lamp revealed quite a few eyes shining back and a squatter about 50yrds ahead crouched tight to the grass. I could see her following the light in the corner of my eye and I knocked it out and made my way towards the sitter, trying not to breathe too loud! When I guessed we were just over halfway I knocked the light on and he was still sitting, getting tighter and tighter in the seat…By now I was right up on him and Fudge still had no idea, up he went and I pulled her slip as she lunged and went after him – It wasn’t far, maybe 25yards in longish grass, the odds were in her favour and she snapped him up and swung back round and looked right back at me, the rabbit clamped tight in her jaws. She began to trot very proudly round the field and I made no noise or fuss and simply put the light out and sat down, a few moments later she arrived beside me, the rabbit tight in her jaws. I took it from her, dispatched it and we sat down in the dark. There was no need for anything further – ending on a high note we left and went home, there would be plenty more nights for plenty more rabbits.

We returned to that strip probably hundreds of times over the years and it never failed, it was always a fantastic spot for rabbits and great for lamping, which is what Fudge really did well. I have only started a few lurchers lamping but she was the easiest, the olde “duck to water” comes to mind. After that first night she never really looked back and we lamped an awful lot over the years. Usually, every Thursday and Friday night we would lamp locally and sometimes a but further away over the weekend. Often, we would ferret all day Saturday back home, get dinner at my mums and be back out at 7 or 8 on nearby lamping ground and lamp until late that night before heading home. Its not that long ago but there were so many rabbits then and we thought they would always be there. Driving home on a Saturday night with a few dozen wasn’t uncommon and a few weekends we ferreted two dozen during the day and caught the same at night which in our part of the world was good going. I looked over those same areas recently with a thermal spotter and all I saw was Snipe feeding on the grass and a fox further out – It’s hard to believe at one time the same area was alive with rabbits.

Fudge like many people, liked being in the thick of the action, full speed and that’s why she liked and did well lamping rabbits. I used to love seeing her almost overtake a rabbit and scoop it up on the way past and just keep running…Her energy and stamina had no end when she was young. But that energy and stamina came to quick halt early one winter morning while we were out. We had bagged 6, 10 and then 12 rabbits and caught a few more. I decided it was home time and went through a gate at the end of the route we often took. Fudge sat down at the gate and didn’t come through; I called her two or three times and she stared blankly at me before laying down. She began to stretch her legs out and looked like something was wrong. I had to carry to the vehicle, not as an easy task after the first mile but eventually we got there and I headed for home as fast as my old van would take me.

Two thirty in the morning is not a great time to call the vet but when I explained what happened my local vet just replied “Bring her straight up” and hung up the phone. I was in her surgery in my hunting gear, she was in her pyjamas as was my wife and Fudge was stretched out on a bench getting an IV of some description. After all the panic and emergency was done it turned out her blood sugar had dropped very low and within half an hour she was as right as rain. It had been another “ferreting and lamping” day and Fudge had over the past few days not had he usual appetite but was otherwise fine. The situation was entirely my fault and I felt terrible for days after, bot just for Fudge but for my vert who I got out of bed at 2.30 in the morning. As Fudge slipped away that day in the surgery, the vet reminded her about that evening and she did what she had to do and comforted her all the while. Fudge came here when she was weeks old for her vaccines and microchip, occasionally for the odd injury and now for her last day. While it was unpleasant there was some comfort in having the same vet on the way in as it was on the way out, that doesn’t happen anymore. To be honest I think vets who qualify to be vets are few and far between now – It seems to be more a case of vets who qualify for a high paid job, but I am glad I have the vet I have and hope to continue to for a while yet as it is a privilege not many are privy to.

Leaping through long nets is impressive, but knowing why the net is there is a different matter – I have had lurchers that crashed into them, got tangled in them and got their feet caught up like an eel on an angler’s hook. Fudge was as good a ferreting dog that you could want, if things were going well. If she marked the warrens and the rabbits were shifting thick and fast, hitting nets and even missing them she could handle herself no problem. She was quick to leave a rabbit in the net if one got past and was bolting as she knew it was going nowhere and she never run straight in on the inside of the net and ripped and pulled where it wasn’t necessary but simply jumped the net and held the rabbit from the other side if it needed to be held, otherwise she left it. When she was around ten years old we had a great opportunity to show country sports and rabbit catching in its true light and had the privilege to work with Joe & Patrick Mahon, Vinny Cunningham and Billy Gallagher on “The Last Rabbit Catcher” a TV production that followed my work as a professional rabbit catcher. To be honest, I was dreading the entire process! I had some light experience of working with production people before and found it a little awkward to say the least! However, my assumptions were totally incorrect and I had probably some of the most enjoyable months I have ever had working with a few of the most fantastic people I have ever worked with. I never once felt as if we were filming and Vinny just rolled the camera and let things happen as they did and Billy did the same while Joe and Patrick did steered things in the right direction. It was a very natural process; we just did what we do and they made it into a really good programme which was received incredibly well and I think they did tremendous work. Fudge became a TV star! She lapped it up and never let me down once, I suppose she just did what she always does except we had a film crew with us. Having the opportunity to show things as they are and not as they are perceived was fantastic. The programme had excellent ratings and was chosen to go on the BBC player for a while after its initial airing and was aired again a year later and was received probably better than it had initially been. Its quite surreal being recognised and for a few days after it was broadcast, I had complete strangers stop me in the street and tell me they had watched and enjoyed it. To Joe, Patrick, Billy & Vinny I am always extremely grateful for such an opportunity – It is a period in time I will always look back on fondly.

During the summer things were often a little slower for us, and from around 2010 we demonstrated at the Irish Game Fair. My initial demonstration a couple of years before (quite a ropey one) was on my own as I wasn’t 100% sure on taking Fudge with me into the arena, but after some discussions after the first two years we gave it a go and she became the centre point of the demonstration – She actually made it far more interesting and exciting and I often brought audience members into the arena to race her to retrieve dummies which was always great fun. After a year or two children would recognise her and often called her name when I was walking to and from a demonstration in the arena. Many summers we did all the fairs and Fudge slept sometimes three nights in the back of the vehicle if I couldn’t slip her into my hotel room. She hung around each day and never complained once! Even on our trips to the event at Birr castle which all in sometimes took four full days away from home. Along with our BBC performance, over the years we had interviews for Field Sports Britain, she met Frank Mitchell and we had a discussion about her on the U105 and we even met Anne Marie McAleese and did a small programme for radio Ulster. We also did Highland Radio in Donegal. She appeared in Earth Dog Running Dog magazine, The Field, Countrymans Weekly, Jagd Und Hund Germany and she didn’t even know.

Fudge was a collie whippet greyhound, she caught rabbits, rats and the odd squirrel. She had the odd day time run and was lucky two or three times and not a fox dog as she was clever enough not to get bitten and would let them go rather than take a bite, a red card for some and a sign of intelligence for others. She retrieved pheasants and maybe a duck or two. In a lurcher mans book she was “minor” no big deal. But to me she was brilliant, she had an almost human intelligence and I usually never had to say a word to her. She would lay up on the grass when I was setting nets and stand up when I was done. She never needed a lead or liked having a collar on and was always one step ahead. She was with me before my children were born and was here through every old up and down in the last 14 years and was a true thief who would steal any food someone took their eye off or set within her reach. I put off taking her to the vet for a few months but I knew the time was getting closer. Letting an old dog struggle on is selfish but its hard to let them go when they have got so far. I could see her getting older by the day and as Autumn left and the cold bit it was becoming harder for her and me. It was a magical time Fudge, a hectic decade full of ups and downs, days and nights. I have enough stories to fill a book about you but they are for another day. It was difficult for us all, but we had to let you go…Before the winter took you.