The best of both worlds

West of Yore, Cowmyers, N Yorks

A HOUND spoke in the middle of Winksley Planting and within a few short seconds, the whole pack were roaring at the line. It was just before 3pm, the bright sun was disappearing and the chill of the coming night’s frost was just starting to pinch at your fingertips. The field was much depleted to about 10 people, but through the deep woodland rides there was no way of going any faster, and it seemed that hounds could easily get away from us.

The noise turned back towards us, closer and closer, with the cacophony building until the pack raced along underneath the conifers between us and the covert edge. They turned short again and then the tone changed as they hit the open grass and away. Again it seemed that we would be left and as we scurried downhill and jumped some rails out of the wood, we could