Terrierman

18/06/2026

The hounds arrived at the meet in the heart of London to the cheers and holloas of country folk that gathered below the high offices of power. In that moment the living spirit of the chase carried the claim of our green and pleasant land into the very centre of rule. Today is the last day. Let every lover of the wild speak while the time remains, do not let the sound of hounds fall silent.
If you haven’t already then fill out the trail hunting consultation today, it only takes a couple of minutes.

17/06/2026

A Call from the Smoke
As the long shadows of evening stretch across the city’s concrete canyons, the hounds met at six o’clock this evening on Marsham Street, outside the very offices of DEFRA. There, beneath the indifferent windows of power, we stood as country folk have always stood: proud, resolute, with the memory of open moor and covert thick in our hearts.
Enough is enough.
The Prime Minister would do well to remember his own blood. His great-grandfather, Gustavus Adolphus Starmer, was a gamekeeper, as was Gustavus’s father before him, men who no doubt knew the ways of the wild, who understood the ancient pact between the land, the beasts, and those who tend both. They lived by the rhythms of the seasons, the voice of the hound, and the honest labour of the countryside.
Tonight we carried a simple message into the heart of the city: it is time the countryside was shown some love.
The 18th of June is the final day to make your voice heard in the consultation. Thousands have already spoken. Add yours. Fight the ban. Never give up.
The rivers still run, the woods still whisper, and the hounds still speak.
Stand together with us.

17/06/2026

16/06/2026

Stolen and passed from pillar to post by sabs and anti groups for propaganda! Poor hound 🙁

Chris Packham has been photographed with a foxhound that is alleged to have been kidnapped by an anti-hunting activist.

🔗 https://www.telegraph.co.uk/business/2026/06/16/pictured-chris-packham-poses-with-stolen-foxhounds/?WT.mc_id=tmgoff_fb_photo_packham-poses-with-stolen-foxhounds/

15/06/2026

On a still winter morning, when the rime lies white upon the grass, there is no finer sight than the hounds streaming across the plough on a clean trail the history of which is only known to the skilled trail-layer. No live quarry is pursued; it is simply the old custom of the countryside, harmless and legal, binding rural folk together as it has for generations. Yet now the folk in Whitehall, with their tidy memoranda and distant notions of welfare, would ban even this – though the chasing of live quarry is already forbidden by law. One wonders whether they have ever known the sixth sense of those who walk the fields, or if they merely seek to tidy away traditions they do not understand.
The ban will not save a single scent sodden sock but will wound the livelihoods of hunt staff, farmers and the small communities that depend upon hunting, eroding yet another thread of our rural heritage. The government’s consultation closes on the 18th of June. If you believe the countryside should speak for itself, respond to the trail hunting consultation from Defra, tag your MP with , and share this Reel. Our fields and woods are not a problem for Westminster to fix; they are a way of life worth defending.

Rural Britain – stand up before it is too late.

For more info visit; The Countryside Alliance, Hunting Kind, BHSA, DEFRA

12/06/2026

There is nothing quite like the sunshine upon a classic Rydal day. The green sward of the Vale lay bathed in golden light, and gathered upon it is as fine an assembly of hounds and working dogs as any countryman could wish to see.
From elegant beagles, moving with that trim and purposeful grace so characteristic of their ancient breed, to sturdy, wise-eyed sheepdogs, ever ready for their proper work upon the fells; from the swift trail hounds and the gallant foxhounds of the fell packs to the bold, game little terriers, if there is a heaven for hunting folk it looks like this.
Legendary fell huntsmen stood by their charges, faces weathered by wind and hard winters, yet lit with quiet pride. Serious judges move amongst hounds with discerning eyes, while happy walkers guided each one, their smiles speaking of the deep satisfaction known only to those who live in true partnership with good hounds.

07/06/2026

Any agricultural show on this island will have its hounds, and rightly so. They come as living proof of that deep and ancient bond twixt the man who tills the land and he who follows the chase across it. Farming and hunting have walked side by side for centuries, each depending upon the other in the old, quiet way of the countryside.
Last year at the Edenbridge and Oxted Show the packs turned out in all their glory beneath a wide summer sky. Sleek coats catching the sun, bright eyes watchful with that quiet dignity which only hounds possess. The good folk of the weald and the downs come to see and to remember.
These few pictures speak of that day, the hounds at rest and in motion, the laughter of children, the murmur of voices, and over all the sense that something old and true still lives on in our fields and lanes. It does the heart good to see it.

24/05/2026

Much to the contrary of those misguided souls who visit this page with such venom and accusation, the fox cubs remain here, thriving in their secret world. I have neither “thrown them to the hounds” nor “set my terriers upon them,” as their fevered imaginings would have it. One wonders at the strange lives they must lead, to conjure such dark fantasies of us countryfolk as evil-hearted villains. In my experience, the truly unhinged dwell more often in their own ranks. Meanwhile, I am content to be out in good clean air, with honest soil beneath my boots, moving in harmony with the turning seasons and the wild life that pulses all around.
In the quiet of these May hedgerows, where the hawthorn hangs heavy with snow-white blossom and the air is sweet with its scent, I have been watching a most delightful little family. Five fine fox cubs are now bold at the earth, full of mischief and the pure, bounding joy that only the young of the wild possess. Both dog and vixen still visit them faithfully, bringing choice morsels from the meadows and coverts, though one feels the time of constant nursing and provision is gently drawing to its close.
Only last week, I was privileged to capture them all nestled close, suckling from their mother in the soft, golden light of evening, a scene of such tender, wild beauty as stirs the deepest feelings in any true countryman’s heart. They grow stronger and bolder by the day. My camera trap, set at a respectful distance, is now frequently investigated by the two most adventurous of the litter, whilst their three more cautious siblings still cling to the safety of the earth.
There is no finer season in the English countryside than these late spring days, when one may watch the young creatures of field and woodland finding their feet beneath the wide, arching skies. Long may they prosper, and long may we cherish the ancient rhythms of this green and pleasant land.

23/05/2026