The Story, below, was written by Eddie Chapman and comes from Earth Dog - Running Dog, No. 20, December 1993, pp. 12-14. This was on a UK bulletin board and so someone else had to type it in, thank goodness.
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"I have been known to get quite hot under the collar when someone has interfered when a fox is about to bolt for besides upsetting the plan it is unfair on the terrier who has probably already worked quite hard to get his fox out. My most memorable occasion when this happened almost cost me my job for I was, at the time, doing terrier work for a pack on the Welsh border.
Hounds had met at a really big country house and the "Lord of the Manor" was an eighty year old ex-Master -- an arrogant old son of a bitch and as big a snob as one could possibly find. Hounds found immediately in a big old spinny near the house and after a short circuit of the property they marked to ground within three hundred yards of the meet.
It was a three hole earth but about twelve feet deep and I could see it would be a difficult dig....I asked the master to take hounds well back so that I could try for a bolt.....I slipped a little bitch, a cracker for bolting a fox....five minutes passed, then ten, but I was sure of a bolt....just then this old boy from the big house came ambling down the field with an even older looking terrier under his arm. I waved to indicate to him to keep back, or at least out of the line of fire....I shouted at him to keep back but as he reached the stream he threw the dog across and as the dog landed, so the fox
came to the entrance, saw both the dog and the old man, and did a quick about turn back into the earth.... I literally screamed at the master to get the old fool out of the way, swearing at him and leaping across the stream to tell him what I thought of him. I could hear the fox lay hold of my bitch as he turned back at her, which sent me into more of a rage.... I shouted to the master to take hounds on as there was no chance of a bolt now and he would probably not see me again that day as, thanks to the old idiot, I was now faced with a long and difficult dig.....
I netted the holes and, leaving one man to watch them, set about trying to find the terrier.... After about three hours we were down to the sandstone but although the bitch could now be heard quite plainly, it would have taken a jack hammer to make an impression on that rock.....We would have to tunnel between the two layers of sandstone.... By eleven thirty that night I was just about done in and I had only gone in about ten feet or so.... I decided to call it a night and, lifting the nets, I left my coat on the top hole and drove the two hours home..... The next morning, with my brother to help, I got back to the earth at nine o’clock....the old bitch was still baying away steadily so I reset the nets and started to dig into the tunnel once more.....we got lucky and broke into a pipe that led directly to the bitch....She was lying on her back baying upwards, for the fox was directly above her. It would take several hours to reach her so I decided to call her back and try another terrier that might get hold of the fox....I released Cooper, with lots of encouragement to send her on her way. She hit the fox like a train and, taking an instant firm hold, started to draw. Actually, she had
gone in and then up a couple of feet to reach the fox so she was now really swinging in mid air, her back end six inches from the floor, jerking like mad to try to pull the fox away from his elevated position....The old man from the house brought us tea and sandwiches....Half an hour later Cooper had not made any progress, just swinging there, jerking so we just had to tunnel in to reach her. By late afternoon I had managed to get near enough to reach her and I got hold of her, helping her by pulling with her. The first bit of pressure saw the fox come with a rush and if I had not blinded him with the torch, which halted him for a moment, I reckon he would have been over me and away, even with the bitch holding him, for he was as big as an alsation and just as strong. I got him by the scruff with my free hand then, dropping the torch, got a leg, by mistake, with my other hand and before I could change my hold he got me, fair across the hand.
The next few minutes were murder as my brother dragged me back by my boots, fox, terrier and all and we shot this very big specimen, still gripping me like a vice. And all that just because the old man had interfered at the crucial time!"
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