HUNTING DAYS 191 



from the elms or ' Huntingdonshire Oaks,' as they are known 

 in the Fitzwilliam country. 



Among the favourite reminiscences of hunting men is the 

 record of Mr. Parry's last verdict. Towards the close of his 

 life he was asked what he most regretted in his past life, what 

 in especial he would do differently if he had his life again. 

 His answer came pat. ' I should hunt/ he said, ' a great deal 

 more before Christmas.' Nine years out of ten, the season 

 is open up to Christmas. Snow and binding frost are rare. 

 ' The southerly winds and the cloudy sky ' that the hunting 

 man longs for are frequent. The ' going ' is soft. The very 

 wind suggests a ride ; and in the bared hedgerows is no 

 symptoms of budding green, in the woods is no sound of 

 spring song to suggest that the truce between hunter and 

 hunted is approaching. 



Yet February is usually regarded as the hunting month of 

 months, though frost is common and pairing has begun. But 

 the middle of the season is the truer zenith. The contrary 

 theory has prevailed, principally because shooting ends on 

 February 2nd, and hunting remains the sole sport in the shires. 

 December may be taken as the summit of the season ; and the 

 best days that most hunting men recall are those when they 

 rode back in the dusk and the tea hour was not passed when 

 they reached home. 



The cardinal mystery of hunting is the scent. The 

 wisest cannot be sure when scent will lie and when it will not. 

 It is held by some that a blue fog on the horizon tells of 

 a bad scent. A very heavy wind is certainly against scent. 

 Extremes of dry as extremes of wet are against it. 

 But all their rules are broken. Mr. Scarth Dixon, in a 

 charming little book on The Hunting Year, records the 

 fastest runs he remembers as coming in March ; and adds he 

 has never enjoyed an exceptional run in January. It is not 



