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Eh up folks, just thought I'd introduce my self with a story on how I came to love Lurchers and hunting, hope you like it!

 

I was born in the late 1960s into a large family that lived in an even larger town in the north west of England, my father was a drain layer and my mother stayed at home to look after myself and my siblings, in 1972 my father fell ill and was taken into hospital, he was a child of the 1930s and had known great hardship as a boy, this less than perfect start and the years of working out in all weathers had taken their toll and so his illness kept him in and out of hospital for most of my youth. The government benefits ,at the time , were barely enough to live on, my mother did her best, but with Dad in dock, it was hard to make ends meet. One of my older brothers owned a ferret and a whippet, and so, he would catch rabbits to supplement our meagre income, he had asked permission in the farms that bordered our town, but the farmers had always declined, they didn't know us and our less than impeccable appearance and the whippet at my brothers heel, did little to warm them to us. It mattered not, there was an area of public parkland a few miles from where we lived, a large number of rabbits had made their homes in the sandy banking’s that edged the river, the woods held pigeon and squirrel and wild ducks were to be found on most stretches of the river, there were even a few pheasant, escapee’s from an estate a couple of miles up the road, we spent our weekends on this land, on occasion the park wardens would chase us off, but mostly we were left to our own devices. On a few occasions, my father would feel well enough to join us, he would stop to rest every now and then , he’d sit on an old stump or rock and tell us of his exploits as a boy, we would be keen to get on, but we never pushed him, his illness had left him a shadow of his former self, we were just glad to have him with us. It was on these trips, that my father helped us refine the skills we had already learned, he would set his nets in total silence, treading quietly and carefully, so as not to alert the rabbits below to our presence, he’d slip the ferret into the set and move into a position that granted him access to the netted rabbit, but that hid him from any that might pause at one of the many entrances to the warren. He taught us how to use the wind to our advantage and how to read a hedge line, and that our dog, who’s senses far surpassed our own, was a useful guide as to which sets were occupied and which were empty, these skills had been learned during the depression that plagued our country during the 1930s and 40s, his father, on returning from the war, had found it impossible to find work, the railway banking's my father had hunted during my grandfathers absence were all but hunted out, so they pushed further afield, they had to, the choice was poach or go hungry.

 

Many years passed and things got much better, I had reached an age where i could work and found employment as a builders labourer. I developed an interest in girls and so weekends found me in the pub as opposed to the field, we still had ferrets, and there was always a whippet or a lurcher about the place, but times were good, so the need to hunt had long since left us. I say the need because the passion was still there, it only took an autumn breeze or the smell of wood smoke to bring back all the memory’s, but for now, we were content to let the rabbits be. One of the things about chasing girls is this, every now and then you catch one, I met my partner in the very early 90s, and to cut a long story short, within a couple of years we had two beautiful children, I still had plenty of work , and so things were good, but my pub days were over and I found myself in need of something to get me out of the house once the kids had gone to bed. A friend had bred a litter of lurchers, he had one pup left and offered it to me for forty pounds, i jumped at the chance and so tucked him under my jumper and made my way home. My missus eyed me with suspicion when I showed her the latest addition to our family, but she said nothing, and accepted my reasoning, he was a beautiful pup, collie greyhound x bedlington , whippet greyhound, black as night and all mine.......

 

There is no lack of experts in the running dog world, everyone has a theory on how to train, how to exercise or at what age a pup should be introduced to quarry, but at 8 weeks of age, a lurcher is just like any other dog, it needs somewhere warm and dry to sleep, and lots and lots of the right kind of attention. I had given my new charge the name Sam, and apart from the inevitable puddle, he gave me few problems in those early days, he whined a little when we went to bed, but he settled quite quickly, five minutes of sit, three times a day did the job and the fact he was always around our feet soon taught him the rules of the house. The kids loved him, especially my oldest daughter, every morning I would wake the children, and every morning i would find the pup at the foot of her bed, she would sneak down into the kitchen and fetch the pup upstairs, in the end, we left him there.

 

As I said, a lurcher pup is just like any other dog, obedience training should start as soon as you get the dog, Sam took to the sit command so well, that I never had to introduce the command ‘stay’ he walked well to heel within a couple of days on the lead and would come into heel when called, so I decided to start on the retrieve section of his training, a rolled up sock was thrown across the kitchen floor, Sam would bound across the kitchen and pick it up, he’d charge back to me, sock in mouth, then sit, tail wagging, waiting for me to throw it again, I would only throw the sock three or four times, and then place it on a shelf, i couldn’t risk boring the dog, if he lost interest in the retrieve at this age, the chances of him retrieving as an adult dog were slim. At five months old, I started to take Sam out with the air rifle, the leaves were off the tree’s and so in the evenings I would shoot Magpie and pigeon at roost, i thought it an ideal way to introduce him to feather, it was a cloudy night, with just a little wind, ideal for the task at hand, the roosting birds would be silhouetted against the grey clouds and the the wind would hide our footfall as we moved slowly and carefully through the wood. Ten yards into the wood i came across several wood pigeon and a solitary magpie roosting about twenty feet up in the canopy, I was tempted to take a pigeon, as it would be a more substantial meal for the ferret, but I knew that the second I shot the pigeon, the magpie would create a hell of a racket and alert every bird in the wood to our presence, so the magpie it was, the bird fell into a small patch of brambles at the foot of the tree, Sam's ears pricked at the sound of the falling bird and with the command ‘get on’ he moved in to investigate, he sniffed at the bramble and then pushed his way through the cover, emerging a few seconds later with the bird in his mouth, he ran to my side and and after a some well deserved praise I took the bird off him and placed it in my bag, the game was on, he only had to see the rifle after that night and he would become very exited, over the next three months we took dozens of magpie, pigeon and crow, all of which he retrieved as well as any Spaniel, I was made up with his progress, and couldn’t wait to try him at the rabbits, but it was the beginning of March, the rabbits were breeding and so I would wait until the early days of Autumn................

 

As is often the case, the best laid plans often amount to nothing, I had been offered work in Cumbria, working as a labourer on a house renovation in a small village called Cartmel, I could not refuse the work, so was absent for five days out of every week, my partner looked after the children and the dog and ferrets, but had no real interest, so sam’s training was limited to weekends, I worried at the time, that all my efforts would go to waste, i could not risk taking an unruly dog onto someone’s land, not just because it was frustrating, but because no farmer will grant permission to work a dog unless the dog is ‘bomb proof’, those six months dragged and here and there, Sam showed signs of his neglect , September arrived and work on the house was completed, Now the real hard work began, the nights were drawing in, and the air was turning colder, I would return from work at five thirty, spend time with the kids and then march Sam for a couple of hours, I confess that sometimes I was a little harsh with him, but i was determined not to let his bad habits flourish, it wasn't his fault know, but it had to be done. By the end of October, we were back on track, the long distances we had walked had prepared us both, physically, and the nights spent in front of the fire had re-established the bond, by this time Sam had become quite an impressive fellow, his black coat shone and his graceful yet athletic appearance drew comments whenever I walked him, the lad I had bought Sam from, had heard that he had made a nice dog and wanted to see him, we talked on the phone and arranged a night on the lamp, I was very excited, the area we had chosen was heaving with rabbits, I knew that if nothing else, we would have plenty of chances to try him, so, I put the battery on charge, and waited.

 

Conditions could not have been better, the wind was positively howling as we left the car, we split up and agreed to meet back at the car within the hour. I was determined to give Sam every chance, so, keeping the wind in my face, I headed out into the meadow, the grass was still quite long in places, but I knew of an area, close to a large warren, that held so many rabbits that the grass was always cropped to the ground, I put my back against the hedge and turned on my lamp, there must have been thirty or forty rabbits feeding in the open meadow, one of which was at least sixty yards out, Sam had seen some of the rabbits running back to the warren when I had turned the light on, and was now pulling at the slip, I chastised his bad behaviour and moved out into the field, once again I flicked the lamp, the chosen rabbit was still there, but he had stopped feeding and was lay as flat as he could, trying not to be seen, Sam’s collie like crouch told me that he had spotted the rabbit, so as the rabbit made its move, so did Sam, at first the rabbit headed straight towards us, but on hearing the approaching dog, he quickly turned and headed in the opposite direction, Sam gained ground on the rabbit very quickly, and i’m sure that if the rabbit had of continued to run in a straight line, he would have picked him up straight away, but the rabbit jinked as Sam's jaws drew close, the dog tumbled and rolled and the rabbit once again made for the safety of the warren, but the chase was not over, for as soon as he had tumbled to a stop, Sam was back on his feet, I kept the rabbit in the beam of the lamp and once again Sam was close behind him, the rabbit had only a few yards to go and he’d have been home and dry, but just as the rabbit made it to the hedgerow, Sam accelerated and plucked him from the mouth of the hole. I think every rabbit on the place must have heard my cheer, Sam mouthed his catch for a few seconds and then made his way back to me, tail erect and prancing like a dressage pony, I praised his good work and took the rabbit from him, he shook himself and skipped around me like a happy child, i was so proud, and it was obvious that so was he.........

 

For the next few months, i worked Sam on a night on , night off basis, I would only run him at three or four rabbits a night, so as not to put too much of a strain on him, I selected my quarry, running only those I could get within a few yards of, so as not to dishearten the dog. He caught a few and missed a few in those early days, but by the end of that seasons hunting he was catching most of the rabbits I had slipped him on. I knew now, that he had the speed and agility to catch rabbits in the lamp, so one early morning I took him to the parkland I had wandered over and hunted as a boy, and tried him with the ferret. I chose a meadow that was bordered on one side by the river and on three sides by sheep wire, the set I picked was near the river bank but at least fifty yards from the wire fencing, this, I thought , would give Sam a fare chance on any rabbits that slipped the net. The nets were placed in total silence, Sam waited patiently as I laid them, the ferret was slipped into the set and we waited. Sam's ears pricked up and he cocked his head to one side, this was my first indication that there was something going on in the warren deep below our feet, he could hear the rabbits moving around and became focused on one hole in particular, within seconds a rabbit hit the net, Sam shot forward and tried to seize the trapped rabbit, but i held him back, the net had done its job, and there was no point in letting him mouth the rabbit, that was a habit that would only ever lead to damaged nets. He watched as I dispatched the rabbit and then placed a fresh net, as we moved back into position another rabbit hit the nets, followed closely by a third, the second rabbit was trapped securely within the purse of the net, but the third took off across the field like a bullet, I slipped Sam and he did the same, within thirty yards he had picked up the rabbit and returned it alive into my hand. He was aware now, that rabbits were to be found in these holes in the ground, and would check each warren we came to, sniffing carefully around each hole, sometimes he would show little interest and move on, other times he would stick his head down the hole and breathe deeply, these sets always produced rabbit, and thanks to his keen sense of smell and his turn of speed, many a rabbit was to grace our table in the months that followed.

 

Now the brown hare differs in many ways to a rabbit, to the uneducated eye they look similar, but to any man or dog that has hunted them, they are worlds apart. The hare is capable of feats of athleticism that would shame an Olympic athlete, they have huge reserves of stamina and these attributes make them a worthy adversary for even the fleetest of dogs. Sam was fast and incredibly fit by the time he reached two years old, we had seen hares in the field on our many trips out on the lamp or with the ferret, but I had declined to run them, I saw no point in burning the dog out on one hare, when the ground we hunted was littered with rabbits. One morning, we were sat under an old Horse chestnut, in the middle of the park, when Sam suddenly stood up and walked out into the field, he seemed fixated on a patch of nettles that covered a small three holed warren in the middle of the field. I called him back, thinking that he'd seen a rabbit, and being certain that the rabbit he'd seen would just pop back down the set before he got to it, but he paid me no mind and started to crawl like a sheepdog out towards the set, I chuckled at what I saw as his naivety, but as he approached the nettle patch a huge hare jumped up and Sam gave chase, I jumped to my feet and watched as the hare and Sam ran in a large ark around the meadow, the hares ears were pricked straight up, a sure sign that it does not feel under pressure, and the two of them disappeared over the hill and out of sight. I gathered my belongings and raced to the spot i had last seen Sam, but by the time i was half way across the field, the hare came flying over the hill, back towards me, this time his ears were down, tight into his body, and Sam was within three feet of him, the hare jinked to the left in a bid to throw the dog but it was in vain, Sam read his move and grabbed him firmly about the shoulders, his heaving flanks were a good indication of how exhausting the chase had been, but he wouldn't let go, this prize had been hard won, I dispatched the hare while it was still clamped in his jaws, as soon as he realised it was dead he released it, I patted and praised him and after a well earned rest, we walked home, It wasn't the last hare he caught, or the most difficult, but i can see that chase in my minds eye, to this day, he had matured into fine animal and his skill in the field was soon to become a very useful asset.............

 

As I said, I had been working as a builders labourer, the work, although physically demanding, was varied and kept me outdoors most of the time, which suited me just fine, unfortunately, the work could sometimes be dangerous, accidents were frequent and in the late summer of 1997 I had the misfortune of being involved in one of them. October was on the near horizon and with it would come the wind and rain, we were under pressure to get the roof on a property we we building on the banks of lake Windermere, three huge purlins [lengths of timber] had been delivered, it was our job to carry them up a steep and muddy slope and then pass them up to the trades men who were to fit them into place, to cut a long story short, the two lads who were helping me , slipped, leaving yours truly carrying all of the weight, my back went pop and I collapsed in a heap on the very muddy floor. I spent the next two hours in the back of an Escort van, I knew I'd done some serious damage as I was in agony all the way home. The doctor referred me to a specialist who informed me that I had squeezed out the jelly that cushioned three of my vertebrae, it was going to be a month or two before I could go back to work and he strongly advised a change of career, my back simply would not stand up to the job anymore. Two weeks passed and at last I could move around without too much of a problem, two weeks after that I was feeling much better and was even walking the dog, but as for work, there was none, I couldn't' risk going back into the building trade, the painful memory's of the not to distant past told me that, so I would look for work elsewhere. It seemed that jobs were few on the ground, but my persistence payed off, I landed a job in a local pub, the money wasn't great, but it was something. Christmas was looming, talk of presents for the kids grew more frequent, but it didn't look like they were going to get much, we were just about keeping our heads above water. I decided that I was going to make things a little easier, after all, I had a dog and a ferret, I already fed the ferrets with Pigeon and Magpie that I shot, now I was going to feed the dog and myself! Three doors down the road lived Irvine, I sometimes worked with Irv and we often hunted together. He was also struggling to find work, so I called to his house to discuss the problem. We sat drinking tea in his yard, his Whippet cross bitch 'Lady' was a month older than Sam and had been purchased from a house in Offerton, Her mother was a smallish, rough coated Lurcher, her father was anybody's guess, she had escaped and somewhere in the night she had bumped into one of the many street curs that roamed the streets of our town, Hey presto, a litter of pups appeared, and Lady was Irvs choice. She was only small, about twenty two inches at the shoulder, her large upright ears gave away the fact that there was Alsatian in her fathers blood, and the oddest thing was her bright orange brindle coat, she looked more fox than dog, but there was something about her, she was intelligent, she had a way about her that promised great things to come!

 

We knew several areas that held good numbers of rabbit, but most were too far to travel, we settled on a destination close to home, by the time we got out of the car, the wind was howling, we split up and I made my way to the bottom end of what we called 'the sandy field' I positioned myself with the rabbit warren on my right hand side, with the wind blowing from my left, the wind covered my footfall as I walked the banking, there were rabbits feeding thirty yards out, I had always walked Sam out to the feeding rabbits, but now it was time to take things one step further, I flicked on the lamp and picked a suitable candidate, Sam was looking straight down the beam, so I slipped his lead and muttered, 'get on', he trotted down the beam of light, toward the squatting rabbit until he was within three feet of it, but the rabbit remained motionless and invisible to Sam, then it became a waiting game, I could have walked toward the rabbit and set it off running, but that would mean giving up my vantage point close to the warren, no, I'd wait, I didn't have to wait long, the rabbit shifted in its seat, pointing itself back toward the warren, Sam spotted him and lunged forward seizing the rabbit about the shoulders, he brought the still kicking rabbit back to me and after a little praise, I slipped him back on the lead and moved on, the next squatter was less than ten yards from where I stood, This time Sam studied the ground, a gust of wind, ruffled the fur on the rabbits back and I slipped him, the rabbit tried to run, but Sam was on him in a trice, we picked up one more squatter that night, Sam picked it straight out of it's seat, I didn't want to push him, so I decided to call it a night, as I made my way back to the car, I felt very pleased with Sam, he was coming on fine, his first night of the season, had gone well and I had a feeling that he was going to get better. I found Irv at the car, drinking coffee and looking very pleased with himself, Lady had picked up five, and some over a considerable distance, we smoked a cigarette and watched the dogs sniff around our feet, ''Eh up'' said Irv, ''look at her'' Lady had her nose tight to the floor and her tail was wagging frantically, she headed towards a thistle covered dam that held good numbers of rabbit and promptly disappeared, within a second or two of her entering the thistles, all hell broke loose, we could hear rabbits bolting everywhere, and Lady crashing through the cover after them, then a squeal, we both looked at each other and laughed, she'd hunted using her nose and then picked up the rabbit in the dark in heavy cover, she emerged carrying her prize, undamaged but very noisy, Irv dispatch the rabbit and placed it with the others, we were both amazed at this young dogs seemingly natural ability, but Irv wasn't content, 'Ill try her again'', this time Irv walked Lady into the thistles, and once more she caught a rabbit without the aid of the lamp. We drove home filled with pride and made plans for the coming week, home from work, an hours sleep and then back out, the dogs had done us proud, we would return the favour and get them out as much as possible!

 

For the rest of that season, we worked the dogs at every opportunity, the more we took the dogs out, the more efficient they became, they were now, working as a team, Lady would work the brambles and gorse, driving rabbits out to Sam, who would snatch them up as they broke cover. Both dogs were in amazing condition and a pleasure to watch, the large hauls of rabbit they were taking were enough to feed our families, dogs and ferrets, after a nights lamping, we would dry and feed the dogs, once they were put to bed, we would sit until the wee small hours in Irv's shed, skinning the rabbits and placing them in a large boiler, donated by Irv's Grandad, Derrek, he had used it to heat milk for his veal calves, but it suited our purpose, the rabbits were joined in the boiler by any spare veg, cabbage, carrot, garlic, a couple of handfuls of porridge and left to cook for an hour or two, we would then strip the meat from the rabbits and return it to the pot, once cool, we would bag the resulting stew into pound bags and feed it to the dogs, it was hard work sometimes, we had worked outside all day, sometimes in the worst the winter could throw at us, then hours spent trudging across fields in all weathers, but we loved it, it had become a passion, a way of life, as we sat in that cold shed, we would sip hot tea and talk of the nights hunting, or tales that our old folk had told us, tales about the men who worked on site in days gone by, fetes of strength, cunning and of course, poaching!

 

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