‘All he did done perfectly’

In March 2006, I went looking for a hunter in Ireland. In a yard somewhere in Co. Limerick, I tried out a six-year-old bay and a five-year-old liver chestnut. ‘The bay had the better turn of speed,’ I recorded, ‘but was troublesome in the mouth. The build of the liver chestnut was also better. He jumped well… Apparently he won’t do banks, but that doesn’t matter in Sussex. Di was clear that the liver chestnut was the one.’

Di — Diana Grissell, Master of our hunt and carer of any horse I ride — is always right. So I bought the liver chestnut for £5,500. His Irish owner said, ‘He’s got a good lepp on him.’ One is trained not to believe people — especially Irish people — who try to sell one horses, but in this case the man was underselling.

The horse was registered, depressingly, as Smooth Project, but luckily his stable name was Tommy. He was an Irish sport horse, 16.1 hands, middleweight, strongly built — not beautiful, but workmanlike-handsome. He had failed as a showjumper, apparently. He was born to hunt.

At first, Tommy was a bit green and nappy. He could be bossy when put out in the field to graze, and difficult to catch. But from the first he understood the hunting field. The fat creature of summer was transformed for the season. Elegant in his clip, always holding his condition, he was where he wanted to be.

He wanted to be near the front, and would pull until he got there. His only ill temper was against similarly thrusting ponies: he resented being impeded. He always knew when something was happening. When hounds spoke, he would raise his head, swallow his mouthful (he was forever eating), twitch his ears, and move as fast as any non-thoroughbred can manage.