You have to admire the creativity of many English pubs. Looking for a clever angle, amidst the special Happy Hours and inventive menus there are pubs which go beyond the obvious. The Barley Mow a small village pub tucked down a narrow country lane in a delightful Derbyshire village perhaps has developed one of the craziest – Hen Race Championships. Or did it?
Although, landlord David Wragg of the Barley Mow did start the current races 25 years ago, locals will tell you it was an old tradition at least dating back to the 1800s although details are scant. This was probably because the old tradition involved gambling. The main location was the event remoter hamlet of Ible, where the races focused around the Hope and Anchor. When this ceased, if indeed it has, is unclear but it was certainly in fine form back in 1986 when it was captured in jocular fashion the below video. This custom was done unsurprisingly perhaps on the 1st of April.
Arriving at the Barley Mow one quickly encounters the area a track 15 metres long. Being August, the organisers were struggling with erecting a tent, not for the spectators, but for the chickens…this is serious stuff..it was needed as well…it rained loads!
All around the arena are competitors, sitting in cages, cat carriers and even cardboard boxes..their heads popping out and giving a cluck every now and then. Apparently these were any old fowls but many had been subjected to months of training and the landlord often takes his prize winner ‘Flo Jo’ for training across the moors. Not only that but this is a world championship with entries from as far away as Norway..I would be interested to hear their reasons at passport control.
Around 50 birds entered the races in a series of heats. Soon the races begun and hens were lined up at the starting line…and they were off..or rather not. It wasn’t exactly a speedy event with many of the birds looking quite bemused by it all. Some were more interested in going back to the start and pandemonium ensued when one managed to break through the fencing and enter the crowd! Some were content just to peck the ground beneath them..Despite their trainers were at the other end banging tins of sweetcorn and mealworms. Although the birds were pretty standard…their trainers were not – one being a capped crusader and another had a suit made of cartoon strips…great British eccentricity!
Some hens were more proactive and one was particularly keen to show its abilities…after a few also rans it was clear that there is either natural variation in the survival instinct of the birds or the training worked. The overall winner was one called Road Runner and a very pleased young man called Harvey and his father Oliver looked as pretty pleased. I could say they were cocky….although I chickened out on that joke!