Hunter of a lifetime

Cattistock joint-master and huntsman Will Bryer’s tribute to his incorrigibly spooky “soul horse”

“Spooky” George

MY great friend and supporter, one-time master of both the Co Limerick and Galway Blazers, Michael MacDonagh, called excitedly one evening to tell me that his 16-year-old son, Paddy, had jumped a boundary wall in Galway finding himself alone with the hounds in full cry, and had left others looking on in awe, unable to follow.

He was rightly proud, and I recall sharing that pride. However, as is uniquely Irish, rather than celebrate the possession and retaining of his son’s mighty creature that had performed such a feat, he insisted that I should purchase this grey horse.

I was a little surprised when I was first confronted with George’s spook, later to become infamous; Mike had assured me, “You could put your mother up on this one.”

Assuming this was sales patter, I foolishly hadn’t considered that my mother, Jinks Bryer, is far superior a rider than I. Perhaps a point not lost on Mike!

Spooking at any inanimate object, he was an equine “push-me pull-you” because, when in front he would spook, plant and shy, requiring constant persuasion to move him forward. Yet should he find himself behind other horses, he would pull with such ferocity that I would fear my arms would pop out of their sockets.

And so the George pantomime started at the Cattistock.

CONFUSION AND COMEDY

HIS name was growled, howled and yowled multiple times throughout a day’s hunting as successive attempts to dislodge me were mounted, or directional disagreements ensued. He hated being alone and threw wobblies at will, and in return, this Will threw wobblies at George.

A new layer of confusion and comedy abounded when George

Pierce and George Renwick appeared on the scene to whipin. Initially they assumed they were receiving the rebuke, as “GEORGE” echoed about the hills of West Dorset.

The issue was that this horse thought he was human; he was certain that he was the boss and was not fond of taking instruction. The only thing he was always happy to do was to jump – and at this, he was exemplary.

Not only did he understand that jumping could be achieved from any pace or short distance, but also his sharp eye and quick calculations made implausible obstacles appear to be child’s play.

Another great friend, Brian MacMahon, has always advised me that the best hunters are “spookers”, because they inevitably look after themselves. So true for George, and his extraordinary ability could be attributed to a fear of touching anything he leapt.

Gates and wire were his speciality, preferably out of trot. He was not a natural at hedges, but he was well able to turn a hand to this when called upon.

He led over a very large hedge at Crockermoor on the Fry family’s land, followed by James Townshend. We both exclaimed that we couldn’t recall jumping a bigger one!

MORE CENTAUR THAN HORSE

I CAN’T remember a fall from George when jumping, but he regularly amused himself dislodging me with a sudden spook. When Jack Baker-Sims so politely bid me “good morning”, he whipped off his cap, resulting in my sudden dismount as George took exception and, like a flash, spun round.

While at pace in pursuit of hounds, he spooked at a rocky outcrop, leaving me thudding into a bed of grass. I glanced about in the hope this had gone unwitnessed, only to see Gareth Lloyd, then our countryman, bent double above me on the hillside.

It often amuses me when people refer to a horse as hunting hounds, but if this were possible, George probably could. More centaur than horse, had he been human he surely would have had a first from Oxford or Cambridge. He adored hounds, and I never recall him treading on one.

He was the soundest of horses and hunted unscathed for a full 10 seasons before retirement, and was affectionately known by many subscribers and adored by those who cared for him (Tracey Roberts, Lee Honeysett, Sian Gogan, Mary Geikie and Megan Lockyer), even if they didn’t much care for exercising him.

I have Mike and Paddy to thank for introducing me to my soul horse. When you gazed into his eye, he looked back with an unlikely concoction of kindness, mischief, superiority and wariness.

“This horse thought he was human; he was certain he was the boss and not fond of taking instruction”