Over the stable door: Flying finish for a happy hen – and the truth about a stag

It did not begin very auspiciously. The first night saw two ladies off with food poisoning, others followed – tummy bugs and tonsillitis and this reduced our turnout to half by Sunday.

The hen arrived at the track looking ashen. Bride-to-be Alison had not touched a drop of alcohol since night one of our trip so it was due more to nerves than choice.

You may recall how seriously she was taking the race and worked so hard at her fitness in my yard.

We walked the course with Stan Mellor, the first man to ride more than 1,000 winners over jumps. The ground was soft in places.

Most runners were opting to race wide throughout the day due to tacky ground and that left the inner relatively unscathed by the time our race arrived at ten past four which was around the time the moon appeared over the Cheviot Hills.

As their bell sounded, our jockey walked from the weighing room looking sheepish. "My flies are broken" she exclaimed.

I looked down, the front of her breeches were held together with a large nappy pin. It was doing its best but nevertheless it failed to conceal the "lucky" spotty pants worn underneath.

We tried to muffle our laughter. "How am I going to get on like this?" she added in frustration trying to cover her zip. "It'll be the last thing you have to worry about", I chuckled.

When the flag dropped, the hen stuck to the rail as instructed. She rounded the bend, freewheeling down the hill in a handy third place. Suddenly she remembered her goggles and hastily pulled them on.

The field was spreadeagled. As expected Winged Farasi hit the soft patch at the bottom of the course and took a breather. He stayed on again up the hill but was eventually beaten by horses rated much higher.

The hen used her whip, determined no-one else would pass her. The lad on her outside tried manfully but he was struggling to see on account of the fact that her whip kept flying in front of his face.

The hen hung on and finally made it to the winners' enclosure. But there were other more significant winners as well, because together the riders raised in excess of 30,000 for the Greatwood charity.

I can reveal new inside information regarding the "Emperor of Exmoor".

My source revealed the stag is still alive, contrary to what the tabloids recently reported. She is a close friend of the man suspected of shooting the great stag and has seen the animal he actually shot.

"It was an old stag on his last legs, but definitely not the Emperor" she explained.

The man is an experienced marksman with shooting rights on the land, which he has held for the last 17 years. These people control and maintain a healthy deer population in the National Park.

The great red was sighted recently in a location locals are keeping secret due to the constant paparazzi presence in their village.

My source says: "He has not been shot and that's all I will say, it is too risky with all the media attention attracting people who want him as a trophy. That is not how it works on Exmoor".

She added unhappily: "It's like a witch hunt. But he is still alive at the moment."

Recent media hype over the mystery seems to have been deliberately drummed up – allowing certain parties to benefit in the process, with little thought to the consequences or animal welfare.

Culling of the old or sick deer no longer able to thrive naturally in their environment has gone on for centuries on Exmoor. It is a way the farmers control and contain the population without negative intervention and permanent alteration.

It's a job the staghounds were once responsible for before the 2004 hunting ban. n Jo Foster trains horses at Brookleigh Farm, Menston.

CW 20/11/10