A Savage day
Teme Valley, Beguildy Hill, Powys
THE last half-dozen of the mounted field stood in the relative shelter of the stunted oaks that clung to the bottom of the valley. These hounds had produced an excellent day in tough conditions. We set off homewards at 6pm, but when we reached the rise and turned the horses into the wind, the horizontal snow and hail was so painfully cold, we could barely walk into it.
The torturous cold had nearly beaten us by the time we arrived at the trailers and, until hounds and horses were safely installed and the comfort of the vehicle cabs reached, there was barely a word uttered.
The wind had been fairly howling at the meet on Beguildy Hill, one of the high points on this wild bracken-clad range of hills known as the Beacon. This meet
