There's something about setting off into unknown
lands, where no foot, hoof or pad has been before. Few of us get the chance
these days, with almost every corner of the earth penetrated and plundered.
Explorers today rue that they weren't born in an earlier century,
when there were still areas of the map marked 'here be dragons'. But one Sunday
in April, followers of the Big Sky Hounds in Montana set off across a
prairie where the music of the hounds had never been heard. We were true
pioneers, just as the Big Sky is in this vast, beautiful state, where the
clarity of the air means the skies are as big as legends say and English
saddles are rare.
Montana. Big Sky country indeed.
Photograph courtesy of Kenji Aoki
Lynn Lloyd has brought the Red Rock Hounds to the
remote town of Three Forks at the headwaters of the Missouri River for years,
where a hunt member owned the Sacajawea Hotel, a white-painted building
with a statue of a bison outside and a welcoming verandah. It was named for the
Lemhi Shoshone woman who, with her French-Canadian husband Touissaint
Charbonneau, guided explorers Lewis and Clark on their great adventure, giving
birth with hardy insouciance en route and arranging the hire of the horses from
her Shoshone chief brother that allowed the expedition to continue west. Her
story is extraordinary; read more here. In more recent years, Kail Mantle and
Renee Daniels-Mantle of Montana Horses has run their herd of 400 horses
through Three Forks from winter to summer pastures, often assisted by
fox-hunters, their experience of fast work on rough ground proving invaluable. Sadly, the drive ended a few years ago, but they still keep more than 100 horses on the banks of the Missouri. The Red Rock hired horses from them and a friendship was born. Kail and Renee
soon caught the hunting bug and, after a night of drinking whisky with Lynn in 2013,
woke up to find a couple of hounds on their ranch and Renee the newest huntsman
in the West.
A noble bison outside the Sacajawea Hotel, Three Forks
A statue of the Shoshone woman Sacajawea across the
street from the hotel that bears her name
Now, fox-hunters from across America descend on
Bozeman Airport every April for a weekend of hunting, partying and
melt-in-the-mouth beef (I realised on my return after a week in Montana that I
had eaten beef, whether steak, burger or prime rib, every single night, and it
was worth every extra pound in weight). No fewer than 12 packs were
represented, from the Amwell Valley in New Jersey to the Santa Ynez Valley
Hounds in California, the Mission Valley in Kansas to the Cloudline in Texas.
The latter, led by Susan Gentry MFH, had hauled their horses all
the way from the bottom of the US to the top, surviving a nasty moment on
black ice in the Rockies en route. But they're an intrepid lot, these Big Sky
devotees, setting off up canyons and down cliffs with ease on shaggy ranch
horses. Suki Flash of the Green Mountain Hounds in Vermont was even sporting
her own homemade full-length chaps in soft, supple deerskin.
Japan-born professional skier Kenji Aoki, now of Montana
Don Palus of Santa Ynez, veteran of the English shires
Who said you can't wear English dress with Western tack?
Sophia of Las Vegas shows how it's done
Suki Flash of Green Mountain in her handmade chaps
Hunt staff with visitors from the Cloudline, Texas
We met at the Mantle ranch on Friday morning to
mount up an assortment of horses on an assortment of saddles. Steeds ranged
from my round, steadfast Drogan to Mary Tiscornia’s gorgeous grey Arab, whom
she partners to great success in the little-known, to me, sport of Ride andTie, where teams of two runners and one horse race across country. Apparently,
it’s the swiftest way of covering distance with only one horse. We set off into
the steep canyons leading to the stubble uplands farmed by Bob and Pat Green
above the Mantle Ranch, where hounds found almost immediately and took off.
Those of us on the ranch horses, for whom this was the first serious exercise
of the year, were left behind somewhat, but we followed valiantly in their wake
and caught up at an old cabin where we were greeted by the ‘whoopee wagon’ and
a cargo of Bloody Marys. In the high, dry atmosphere, it was most welcome for
humans, hounds and horses alike.
Kail gives a refresher course on Western riding.
Rule no 1: don't hang on the horse's mouth
The ever elegant Lynn Lloyd moves off from the Mantle Ranch
Graceful Mary Tiscornia leads Don of the Los Altos, California,
Dale of the Santa Ynez, California and Cathy Evans of both the
Red Rock, Nevada and Amwell Valley, New Jersey
Charge!
Photograph courtesy of Kenji Aoki
Not your average field master: Kail leads third flight
Bloody Mary stop on the Greens' land
Lynn with the great Vinnie
Lynn Lloyd MFH, Angela Murray MFH and a very happy Kail!
Bob’s father and grandfather had farmed these wild
uplands before him, but neither had encountered hounds before. When Lynn and
Renee first asked if they could hunt his land, he immediately agreed, but it
wasn’t until he climbed a hill and saw a coyote followed by hounds followed by
horses that he realised what they were talking about. Verdict: ‘I loved it!’ For
those of us who hunt in the crowded Eastern states of the US or in Britain, the
idea of having such a huge area of virgin land just waiting to be opened up is
intoxicating. Hunting here means taking an elk with a rifle or bow, not a pack
of foxhounds, but the Big Sky Hounds are swiftly growing in popularity and
support. For the present, Renee is hunting with 12½ couple of retired Red Rock Tenessee
Walker hounds, an ideal situation as it gives hounds that have grown too slow
for their fast-paced Nevada home a new lease of life and Renee can learn from
their experience. Although she will always keep the older hounds for slower
days, the next step is to start a breeding programme of her own. Sensible of
the large task ahead of her, she is enrolled in the MFHA’s Performance Development Programme, invaluable for learning from professional huntsmen, but,
equally sensibly, she intends to breed for her own, unique, country, perhaps
trying Penn-Marydels for their resonant voices and cold noses. Next stop:
building kennels.
One of Lynn's handsome Tennessee Walkers enjoys the rest
Lynn and her hounds, the oldest ones of which find a new
home in Big Sky country
No words necessary
One of the Big Sky's first hounds, Christopher, sadly passed away
on the hunting field, but he is still benefitting the hunt through the
Christopher Fund. At the hunt ball on the Saturday night, a beautiful platter
carved in his honour was auctioned off to raise funds for the hunt. The successful bidder would have their
name carved on the back, and be entitled to keep it for a year, after which it
would be auctioned again. It was one of several ways in which this youthful
pack is laying the foundations of their own history, as they embrace ancient
hunting traditions. Colours were awarded to dedicated members and we all
toasted the news that the Big Sky is now registered with the MFHA. There was a
heartwarming sense of this remote pack being welcomed into the hunting
community, taking up old ways that are valued all the more for being fresh.
The Christopher Fund
Me (check out the cowboy boots) with the Amwell Valley crew
Me with Dale Hoeffliger, roommate and Santa Ynez president
Anything goes! Full hunt dress all the way to cowboy attire
The evening also gave rise to one of the more surreal moments of my life, during the after-dinner entertainment provided by Kail, as accomplished with a guitar as on horseback, and the deep-voiced country singer TJ Casey. Kail called me on stage, a summons I obeyed with trepidation given my own gullibility and Kail’s sense of humour. My instructions were to hold TJ’s nose closed so that he could imitate the nasal tones of legendary Texan-born singer Willie Nelson – to great effect, judging by the applause. Definitely one of the most memorable hunt balls I’ve attended, and I’ve been to a few!
Who needs a campfire when you have TJ Casey?
Kail singing one of his wickedly amusing songs...my personal favourite:
No Mares, about the buckskin mare
Am I really doing this?
Apparently, it works!
Wende Crossley and Mary Tiscornia of Red Rock with
Dale of Santa Ynez
Carousing with a legend: me and Lynn Lloyd
The new generation: Angela Murray MFH and Renee Daniels-Mantle MFH
The following morning, we set off into the unknown.
Western gear was the order of the day – indeed, as Renee pointed out, wearing
cowboy attire here shows respect to the local way of life, just as wearing a
smart coat and polished boots shows respect to British landowners. The Red Rock
staff stayed English as befitted their horses, but Renee was resplendent in
cowboy hat and jeans aboard the handsome paint King. I donned my cowboy boots,
but, as I was riding the off-the-track Thoroughbred Hank, I retained my helmet.
He had behaved badly on the first day, but after two days of schooling from
Kail he was on cracking form. With clouds scudding across a sapphire sky, we
headed towards the distant, diamond-bright snowy peaks of the Rocky Mountains.
Hounds scattered before us like beads from a broken necklace, dark specks
against the dry grass. No coverts here, nothing to impede progress bar the odd
strand of barbed-wire fence and the pesky post-and-wire gates. (They were a
pain to drag open when I was a wrangler on the Bitterroot Ranch in
Wyoming. Wire really is a pernicious invention!)
Cowgirl chic
Me on Hank, playing safe!
Setting off into the unknown
Lynn with Big Sky first-field master Lori Dooley
Hounds draw the big country
Lynn, Mary and Renee give a good lead
Angela Murray's indefatigable poodle keeps a look out
at the break. She literally rang rings around the hounds
Climbing a rocky knoll and scrambling down the
other side, we crossed a snow-filled ditch and hounds went up a gear: they were
on a scent. We took off at full speed, Hank extending his stride to fly across
the ground as if it was the Derby course. The pack clearly relished the going,
too, and despite the dry winter grass gave us the hoped-for quick thing. I
couldn’t stop grinning and nor could anyone else – fortunately, the margaritas that
bounced their way to us on the back of a quad with Ron Crossley and Brian Lessinger proved to be just the thing for
soothing scratchy throats! We capped the day with a climb to a high plateau,
some 6,500ft high, with
caviar-lobster-rare-roast-beef-mint-ice-cream-with-cherry-on-top-feast-for-the-eyes
views in all directions. Simply spectacular.
First field on top of the world
Howdy there!
Big skies and big smiles!
An even bigger smile!
Lynn and Renee reflect on a job well done
Sliding off the edge of the cliff we had a quick
wash and brush-up before assembling at the home of chuck-wagon cook
extraordinaire Pixie Elmose, standing alone in the middle of the windswept
plain. Pixie had enchanted us all by singing at the ball the night before, and
she serenaded us again, her sweet voice floating out across the darkened landscape
as the stars blazed out above. I thought of the words of TJ Casey’s song In my Blood, ‘in the land of the
buffalo, where the mustangs roam their country wild and free…wherever I roam,
home’s calling me’. Wherever I roam from now on, I will leave a part of me in
this glorious state.
Gentle hack home
Photograph courtesy of Kenji Aoki
I survived!
Pixie, whose voice and food are to die for
A lonely homestead in the West
Antelope raced along the stubble as the sun set
Last of the sun on the distant peaks
Most of the foxhunters left the following day, but
I was lucky enough to curl up on the Mantle Ranch for a little while longer, listening
to stories of the great horse drive (oh, to have known Kail and Renee five
years ago!), eating, you’ve guessed it, more beef, and, to my delight, taking
King Tut off for a few hours’ ramble around the hills. I haven’t ridden on my
own since I took my darling Welsh Cob Tina around the lush fields of Tipton Hall Riding School in Herefordshire (great place to ride if you’re in the
area!), and it was bliss to be alone with the crystal air, soaring hawks and
incredible views. We stopped for a muffin and a treat in a sheltered canyon and
loped back across the valley in time for tea. Bliss.
Mantle Ranch cabins, Democrat on the left, Republican on the right!
Both very comfortable
View!
Heading down out of the winds
My trusty companion, Tut
Off into the wide blue yonder
Which way now?
Looking down to the Mantle Ranch
A beaver!
Sunset over the Missouri River
Lord of all he surveys
There was one more treat in store before I moved
on: another day’s hunting! It was a Wenchday, so called because of the
predominance of women – come on chaps, where are you?! – and it was a treat to
see Renee hunting her own pack. We met on the swish Gallatin River Ranch, the
owners of which requested we wear formal dress, and we spent a happy morning
clambering up steep cliffs as hounds worked busily, rewarded with a couple of
quick things. I rode Hank again and he was perfect, never fussing on the hills
and proving he has quite a jump on him when he took fright at a twig and leapt
a stream as if it was Becher’s Brook. Renee listened to her hounds and quietly
encouraged them, never harrying and totally absorbed in the landscape. This is
a glorious country to hunt, and in Renee, the Big Sky has a fine leader. Here’s
to many more wonderful seasons under Montana’s skies!
Up, up and away!
Phew, made it
Renee leads her pack to the edge of the world
A brief consultation with joint-master Marie Steele Griffis
See that speck of red? Yep, that's Marie, whipping-in with aplomb
Home through the canyon
Happy hunters: Renee, Hank and me
Ah, the glamorous life of a Montana huntsman!
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