I have been asked to contribute some remarks on the humanitarian aspect of hare hunting, much having been written to the Press on its cruelty, especially in reference to the E.C.H.—a hunt that has been singled out for opprobrium by people to whom must no doubt be attributed well-meaning and humanitarian feelings, but who it seems to me fail to recognise natural laws or to take a broad-minded or unbiased view of sport in general or to realise that they have not the monopoly of humane feelings.
To commence with, what is cruelty? The infliction of pain need not necessarily constitute cruelty, else many things besides sport must be condemned. The infliction of unnecessary pain is where cruelty begins, and this is reprehensible and inexcusable. I think the subject must be approached with a sense of proportion, and must be treated comparatively. All animals have to meet their death, and those that are used for human food an untimely death at the hand of man, and the chief object to be kept in view is the avoidance of inflicting unnecessary pain. This should be every true sportsman’s aim.
Nature herself is cruel, beasts and birds of prey being the worst offenders. Who that has seen a cat with a mouse but is not moved with pity and made to wonder why things have been so ordained?
Venery has been in vogue since the days of primitive man, when he hunted for the means of subsistence; and nowadays, when it is practised as a manly pastime for exercise, health, and pleasure, every true sportsman who indulges in it makes it his endeavour to minimise the sufferings of his quarry, and will always give it a fair chance for its life. Contrast this with the everyday occurrence of a calf or a pig being taken to have its throat cut and bled to death with no possible chance of escape. My sympathy is stronger for these than for any hunted animal. Have those who decry the sport never eaten veal and ham pie?
I said before that the question is comparative, and I should like to follow that up by saying that the sport of hunting compares very favourably with other sports from a humanitarian view. Take shooting; how many animals and birds in a day’s shooting get away wounded, many to die a lingering death? Quite a considerable percentage. In hunting it is certain death or escape, and, though cases are known of hunted animals being picked up afterwards having died of exhaustion, these cases are exceptional. They never get away wounded, and their end when killed by hounds is as quick as it is certain. I imagine there are more things mortally wounded in a big day’s covert shoot than any one pack of hounds kills in a season, and I venture to think that taking the country as a whole there are more wounded in one day’s shooting than all the packs in the kingdom kill in a whole season.
I recall an incident when hunting in Lanarkshire which illustrates the often mistaken ideas of humanitarians. I had a beaten hare in front of me that took to the roads. I came to a cross road where hounds checked, and met a lady whom I asked if she had viewed my hare. She said yes, but she would rather not tell me where she had gone, as she looked on hunting as cruel. I told her I respected her feelings of humanity, and if I were of her opinion I would give up hunting. I asked her her views on shooting and whether she did not think it was cruel that so many things died from wounds. She replied, “No good sportsmen ever wound things, they always kill them dead.” How many of us, I wonder, could under this definition claim to be good sportsmen?
An officer of that excellent Society the S.P.C.A. once met me returning home with hounds from hunting, and, noticing a lame hound, was going to run me in for cruelty. I told him if he could insure prevention of such cruelty I hoped he would come and stay with me for the winter.
Some people would have us believe that a hunted animal suffers agonies of mind (vide Modern Society, 18th February, 1899), and Somervile’s Chace conveys that impression. This no one who has had much experience of hunting believes. Many of these animals spend their lives in a state of being hunted by others, dogs, cats, vermin, etc., and they are chiefly occupied in avoiding their natural enemies. Fright they may feel, as a hare will if put up by a person walking across a field, but their attempts at escape are their only thought, and they do not realise the penalty of being caught. I don’t think they are at all distressed until they are dead beat, when the end generally comes quickly and surely.
Objection has been taken to certain terms used in hunting, such as “pulled her down,” “ran into her,” “rolled her over,” “dead beat,” “breaking her up,” “blooding the hounds.” The first three, critics may not know, simply imply catching the hare. “Dead beat”—this feeling is also experienced by any Eton boy in the School Steeplechase when he reaches the School Jump. The last two taking place after the death of the hare can scarcely be urged as cruel.
Do these humanitarians inveigh against poisoning rats, destroying wasps’ nests, burning these insects alive, using fly-papers, or mouse-traps? Do they eat game, fish, meat, or have they ever tasted foie gras or lobster?
The Humanitarian Society claim to have accomplished the abolition of the Royal Buckhounds by appealing to Queen Victoria’s tender feelings. I think there were other and more cogent reasons.
The late Provost, the late Head Master, the late Vice-Provost, the late Mr. R. S. de Havilland and others have been accused of brutality and callousness. All who knew them and who understand the subject resent such baseless attacks on men of kindly disposition and balanced judgment.
The Spectator says, “These Eton brutalities are condemned by the modern spirit of humaneness,” and quotes the rules of the Founder as follows, “No scholar, fellow, chaplain, or other minister, or servant of the College, shall keep or have hunting dogs, nets for hunting, ferrets, falcons or hawks,” urging that the Founder’s intention was humanitarian. There is no doubt, however, that this was simply the reservation of sporting rights. A similar clause is common in leases to this day.
The arguments I have read or heard show a deplorable ignorance of the subject.
I have been asked to give my views on the date on which hare hunting should stop, and on the killing of heavy does, a subject made much of by an ephemeral called the Beagler Boy. In 1906, in consequence of correspondence between Mr. Fitzroy Stewart and the Head Master of Eton on the subject of the School Beagles, and which mainly referred to the date on which hare hunting should cease, the County Gentleman asked for the opinion of some of the leading masters of harriers and beagles on this point, three questions being asked, viz.:
1. Do you think it advisable to fix the date for the end of the hare-hunting season, and if so what date would you fix?
2. Do you subscribe to the opinion that a heavy hare has no scent?
3. Have you known in your experience heavy hares to be either run or chopped by hounds?
Among the replies sent was the following from Mr. George Race (of Road Farm, Biggleswade), than whom no one was more qualified to give an opinion, he having been M.H. for seventy years:
“Dear Sir,—In answer to your questions I can only tell you I do not consider it advisable to fix any date for discontinuing hare hunting; and for this reason. In the south of England hares get heavy two or three weeks earlier than they do in the north, and also in an extensive country well stocked with hares you can of course go on longer than in a small country not well stocked.
As to the second question I am quite sure that a heavy hare emits little or no scent.
As to your last question, I certainly have known heavy hares chopped by hounds and also run by hounds.”
My own letter written from the High Peak country at that time was as follows, viz.:
“Dear Sir,—In reply to your letter and the special questions:
1. I am not certain that a fixed date for closing the hare-hunting season is advisable. There is no doubt that in some countries such as this hunting can be carried on a week or two later than in many others. If a date were fixed I agree that the middle (16th) of March would be the best date, all things considered, though it would not be early enough to obviate the occasional killing of heavy does.
2. No; but I am certain that a heavy hare has comparatively little scent.
3. Yes, of course, but owing to her carrying less scent and to her short running, a doe hare is seldom killed when heavy. I have been particular to observe when hunting in March for years past whether a heavy hare is often killed, and have found it not to be the case. I doubt if my hounds kill on an average more than one each season. This year a brace have been killed—one in February.”
On the first point Beckford says, “It is a question which I know not how to answer, as it depends as well on the quantity of game that you have as on the country you hunt.”
In conclusion, I think that without doubt, when looking back on the Great War, the country owes a deep debt of gratitude to all sports which tend to make a man manly (I am afraid I do not include such sports as coursing or pigeon shooting among them, as I am of opinion that woodcraft is a sine qua non to a manly sport). Of all sports hunting most engenders initiative, close observation, quick decision, and courage, qualities essential to all leaders in the several branches of the Forces of the Crown, and which were conspicuous during the late War in the cases of men who had been entered to hunting. The horses too were a great national asset in that crisis. There could be no better initial training for the hunting field than running with beagles. I can look back on five years as M.F.H. and twenty-two seasons with harriers, but my initiation was with the Eton beagles, and I did not follow them without learning many useful lessons in the noble art. I hope many future generations of Etonians will profit by them. I still have a hare’s pad set up killed by them on 18th February, 1879. I have a warm feeling for the hare, and never quite like shooting one: she has afforded me much sport, much pleasure, and much benefit, and if I could forget the fox—and, of course, the hound and the horse—I could agree with Martial that