Tales from The Hunt Field: Melvin Poe and the Big Red Fox

Tales From The Hunt Field: Melvin Poe and the Big Red Fox

By Mike du Pont

We met that Saturday at Charley Matheson’s Heathfield farm on Milestone Road right across from where Jacqueline Ohrstrom would build her house several years later.

It was a bright, sunny morning, though quite cool and damp because it must have rained the night before. We moved off promptly at ten o’clock and Orange County Huntsman Melvin Poe made his first cast just about where Mrs. Ohrstrom’s house was to be.

Those conditions must have been just right, for the hounds opened screaming and the scent was great. Mr. Charlie ran due north in Old Whitewood Woods just east of Rockburn Stud. Straight up the hills, over the hills, down the hills, across the streams and away he went.

And yet, as fast as he sprinted, he never lost the hounds. We viewed this large, healthy red fox several times. He was a handsome fellow, and our pursuit continued for about fifty enthralling minutes.

I happened to notice that on the last hill he climbed, he did not go straight up and over. He traversed the hill first to the left and then to the right as the hounds’ cries grew more intense. They definitely were getting closer.

And then, I was surprised to see Melvin Poe pull the hounds off the line, signaling the end of that thrilling chase. I also was quite disappointed because this was the best run we’d had so far that year. I turned to the field and said: “wait here please, I’ll be right back.”

The late, great Orange County Huntsman Melvin Poe

I rode up to Melvin and said: “Mel, did you just lift the hounds off that big red fox?”

Without hesitation, he said, “Yes, I did.”

“Why’d you do that?”

Melvin took a deep breath and said, “did you see that fox?”

“Yes,” I said.

“And he was a handsome, big fella, wasn’t he?” Melvin said.

“Yes, he was.”

“And he gave us a hell of a chase, didn’t he?”

“He did just that,” I said.

“Well,” said Melvin, “you may have noticed he ran zigzag up the last hill and the hounds’ cry was getting very intense. They were soon going to catch him and kill him. I didn’t want that. I hoped we might run him again this year and he’ll breed some vixens this spring and we’ll have some more of his type next year.”

“Yes sir,” I said, quite humbly. With thoughts of all I’d just learned and full of admiration for Mr. Poe, I returned to the field.