12 • SHOOTING TIMES & COUNTRY MAGAZINE L. BUCHANAN-JARDINE
Inthewarmthofa properhayharvestbreeze,ona busyfarmingday, family and friends gather to celebrate a sporting life well livedJunehasbeenthelunarequivalentof
anannushorribilis. Thepriceofbeef
plumbednewdepthsjustasthebulls
camefat,eggedonnodoubtbythe
veganpopularfront.Theholidaycottage
bookingsystemcausedmybloodpressure
toreachnewheights,exacerbatedby
algorithmscreatedbyCaliforniandotcoms,
butworse,muchworse,myfatherdied.It
washispipethatgothimintheend.That
andthefags,whichcausedhislungstogive
uptheunequalstruggle—a medicalfact
thatI impressonhis 11 grandchildren.
I supposeyoucouldsaythatit wasan
occupationalhazard,giventhatforyears
it hadwardedoffthemidgesonevenings
spentfishingontheriverBorgie,and
latterlytheNith,orwaitingfora duckin
theSeptembergloamingafterharvest,and
it kepthimwarminthepuntasheedged
it pasticebergsinJanuarydawnsonthe
Solway.Thoughhehadgivenit up 10 years
agoondoctor’sorders,I foundthepipein
a drawerandstuckit inhiscoffinwithhis
oldleatherpouchofwhiskyflake.It still
hadtheemptybrasscaseofa .303round,
whichhehadpickedupata firingrangein
Kenyain 1960 andusedtotampthebaccy
intothebowlofhispipefor 40 years.His
declarationthathehad“noliveroundsor
emptycasesinhispossession”thatday
hadbeena fib.I liketothinkheisupthere
now,wreathedinbluesmoke, puffing away
contentedly,rodinhand.
Hislastconversationwithmewasabout
hunting.Andhispipeaccompaniedhim
intothehuntingfieldaswell.If thereis
stillhuntingintheElysianFields,hewillbe
thereonhisgoodmareTwiggy,pipejutting
outbeneathhistophatateachcheck
orsmoulderinginhiscoatpocketwhen
theactionstarts.Ashelayinhospitalin
Oxford,thelifeslowlyfadingoutofhim,he
gazedoutofthewindowacrossthecityto
thepatchworkofgreenfieldsandhedges
beyond.“Iliketoimaginea goodrunacross
thosefields,it looksgoodhuntingcountry.”
WebroughthimhometoGallowaytobe
buried.Fittingly,it wasa busyfarmingday.
Aftera catchyspellofweathertherewasa
windowtogetonandcutsilage.I hesitated
beforeagreeingforthecontractorstocome
on the day of the funeral, then thought DadrestingplaceinGod’sAcre.Everythinghad
goneaccordingtoplan.Hewouldhavebeen
quietlypleasedby“agoodturnout”and
chuckledathisfriendAndrewDuncan’s
eulogyrecallingtheirmanydays’shooting
together.I hopehischestswelledinsidethe
coffinashewascarriedouttothestrains
oftheregimentalmarch,Milanollo.
It wasonlyatthelychgatethatit allwent
pear-shaped.If youhadtonominatethe
mostdepressingfivewordsintheEnglish
language,“thegravehasfallenin”take
somebeating.ButthenDad’slifenever
went entirely according to plan.wouldhaveinsistedthatwecrackedon
somadea planforthemtogoforit with
theaimofsheetingthepitthedayafter.It
wouldbegoodforustobekeptbusy.
Aswemadeourwaytothechurch,
wepassedfrenziedactivity:thechopper
munchingitswaythroughrowsofmown
grassinthefieldnexttothekennels,and
tractorsthunderingroundtheroadsleading
silagetothepit.It hasbeena grassyyear
andourfirstcuthasbeentheheaviestever.
Dadhadseenit onhislastdaywithus, 10
daysbefore,andhadglowedwithpleasure
ashegavemerarepraiseforthecrop.It all
servedtoemphasisethatlifegoeson.
AstheorganistplayedtheEtonBoating
Songwhilethecongregationtooktheir
seats,therewasforoncea genuine“hay
harvestbreeze”.Andthemetaphorbeing
“gathered”seemedappropriateashissons
and grandsons carried him back to his finalJamieBlackettJamieBlackettfarmsinGalloway.
Herunsa smallprivateshoot,was
oneofthefoundersoftheDumfriesshire
& StewartryFoxhounds,andhaswritten
twobooks.Country DiaryBeachieBlackett,
Jamie’sfather,
who died in June