New Forest Notes: Squirrel squoyling – a poor man’s pursuit in the New Forest
Winter pursuits in the New Forest
The depths of winter were always a time when the Forest tended to concentrate on traditional activities and most of these involved hunting and killing something or other.
Whether one regarded this as the delightful essence of Forest life or as a disagreeable exploitation of a natural environment no longer matters too much. It is all gone except for the lumbering and relatively good-natured activities of the bloodhounds following a man-made trail, probably dictated from an office in King’s House. I am told that their quarry is more likely to be drowned in saliva than be torn limb from limb.
I remember someone saying to me at the time of the hunting ban: “It’s a pity hunting is so cruel, because it is such a lovely tradition.” I think that was a conflict of interests that faced a good many people at the time, especially as the New Forest was created and managed for centuries principally as a hunting preserve.
In the famous opening words of John Manwood’s 17th century definition: “A Forest is a certain territory of woody grounds and fruitful pastures privileged for wild beasts and fowls of forest, chase and warren to rest and abide in, in the safe protection of the king for his princely delight and pleasure.”
Now, as all this slips further into history, we are left with the accounts contained in a handful of informative books which record the last days of the old regime – Thirty-five Years in the New Forest by Gerald Lascelles (1915), Sport and Sportsmen of the New Forest by C.R.Acton (1936), and A Hunting Pageant by Mary Lovell (undated, but c. 1980). In all of these the authors display an understanding of the Forest’s geography, placenames and community rare among today’s local residents and visitors. I never hunted myself and I can remember few of the great characters described in these books. Indeed, perhaps not many of them survived long into post-war years.
A New Forest leadie and its target
There was one “field sport” which has sunk so far into the past that I imagine there is nobody left who can remember it. It was called squoyling. No doubt it has been written about by a good many Forest authors, but the greatest and one of the earliest of these was John Wise in his New Forest – Its History and Scenery (1862).
While their “betters” were busy pursuing foxes, deer and pheasants, the local labouring population devised its own winter entertainment – dispatching squirrels with a home-made lethal weapon variously described as a squoyle, scale, libbet, snogg or, in the 20th century, as a leadie. I presume the victim was the red squirrel as the greys came to Britain about 1876 and were spreading widely by the 1890s. They out-competed the reds and spread disease which the latter did not survive.
Lascelles tells us that the squoyle comprised a stick about 15in in length with a little play in it. This was fixed to a pear-shaped lump of wood about the size of a tennis ball, or alternatively a stouter stick was used armed with a lump of lead. The lead-weighted weapon was more properly called a snogg and was less likely to become lodged in branches. A skilled operator could bring down a squirrel from the highest branches at 90ft away in a display which the author describes as a “perfect revelation”.
He says that until recently (1915), great congregations of squoyle hunters would assemble about Christmas and then, in the evenings, meet up in a local pub for huge suppers of squirrel pie, which the providers described as “not half bad”. It seems that the hunting skills thus acquired were employed against other quarry as well and that the weapon was “never out of the hand (or pocket) of that class of the New Forest labouring population – too numerous by far – who never could be induced to put in a week’s consecutive honest labour and a good deal of ‘stuff’ other than squirrels fall to them by the skilful use of this weapon as they spend their days loafing about the Forest”.
By 1915 it seems that the squirrel population had declined to the point where it was too small to provide the former feasts and perhaps squoyling did not survive much beyond the First World War.
The photograph shows a leadie discovered in a cottage in Minstead about 50 years ago and perhaps not actually used since Lascelles’s days. It weighs about 8oz without the original handle and is rather crudely made. I have long heard that the material for this warhead was quarried from one of the lead-filled target mounds of the volunteer rifle ranges which were quite numerous in the Forest until the end of the 19th century.
Highway experiments
Ocknell and Broomy Plains in the north of the Forest are crossed by the road from Linwood to Lyndhurst which, in recent years, has become the subject of two important experiments in preventing verge parking and erosion.
The first of these was instituted several years ago between the east end of Milkham Inclosure and the outskirts of Linwood. Here the carriageway was too narrow for cars to pass each other in opposite directions without overrunning the verge, effectively resulting in a widening of the road on both sides in the form of deeply pitted margins of gravel.
Here, after a good deal of argument and opposition, traffic was confined to the tarmac by lines of dragons’ teeth on each side. They are obstructions which most car drivers choose to treat with respect because of the damage they can inflict on fragile bodywork. At the same time, innumerable tarmac passing places were provided.
It has to be admitted that the scheme is far from attractive, but it has been effective in preventing both overrunning and verge parking. It has allowed for some meagre regrowth of vegetation on the bare gravel areas. From the road user’s point of view, I think it has worked well enough, apart from the frustration caused by very slow machines which refuse to pull in to the passing places so that drivers can progress. Local motorists have learned where the passing places are and most behave responsibly. No doubt this was a very expensive scheme to establish and maintain but, finance permitting, it has scope for use elsewhere in the Forest.
Less satisfactory has been Forestry England’s efforts between Milkham and Slufters inclosures. Here the road is modern and wide by Forest standards. There was little overrunning. The target of the work has been antisocial verge parking rather than erosion. The idea, which seemed promising at first, was to allow gorse to grow right up to the edge of the tarmac. That is in direct opposition to the usual policy in the Forest of trimming wide margins to allow maximum visibility of livestock grazing close to the road.
In order to resolve this conflict of objectives, the gorse hedge was cut regularly to under 2ft in height, so that even a foal or calf approaching the road would be seen with ease. Initially this seemed to work well. It certainly stopped parking over much of its length, but FE failed to provide adequate protection for the inevitable gaps in the vegetation, which motorists soon discovered and then colonised. Overall, there was little lessening of pressure.
The “gorse hedge”, as it became known, had to be kept well under 2ft in height in order to ensure that drivers had a clear view of livestock approaching the road. For a couple of years this maintenance was scrupulously undertaken and the hedge was cut at regular intervals. Now the cutting has been abandoned, creating a potentially serious accident risk. Drivers have no hope of seeing a pony until it is actually on the tarmac as the hedge has grown up to over 5ft in height. It would be difficult to establish fault in a driver killing a pony under such circumstances. A report to the verderers last month claimed that the hedge had been cut back, but this is not correct. Nothing had been done by 21st December.
A mystery bank
At the eastern end of Lyndhurst Golf Course is a substantial bank and ditch running for over 300 yards and apparently serving no recent purpose. Behind it is a narrow strip of heath and woodland before the Beaulieu River, but this was not enclosed, so an agricultural purpose seems unlikely. The bank is close to the edge earthworks of an 18th century race course, but seems unconnected with it. The north end has some small square compounds built against it and these are probably some sort of weapon positions created in the First World War when the area was used for military training.
However, the bank itself seems to be older than this and has been puzzling researchers working on the history of the area. Local enquiries as to the origin of the earthwork have so far produced no results, but there may be memories preserved in old Lyndhurst families which could help to resolve the problem and it would be very interesting to hear them.
