Foxhunting Adventures
A few people asked that I share some of my foxhunting adventures, so I thought I'd make a retro post from my journal. This entry is from September when I went out on a cubbing hunt. Before sharing the entry, I give you all a little background. I just recently joined the Traders Point Hunt in Zionsville, IN. We do not do live hunts, but rather chase a drag scent laid out for the hounds. Consequently, our hunts do not last as long as a live hunt, which could last all day. We usually are out for only a few hours, but we are running hard almost the entire time.
On to the hunt!
Doc and I attended our first foxhunt with hounds yesterday, and it was the most amazing, awe-inspiring experience. The sheer power and speed of the horses, the early morning sun, the glistening dew, the rising fog, the light breeze stirring the first-changing leaves of fall...it was beautiful in every way.
Our day started very early because the hunt was to begin at 8 a.m. I got up at 5:30 and we pulled into the hunt grounds at 7:20-enough time to groom Doc, let him mellow, and hack out with other members of the hunt as everyone arrived. I was excited with anticipation, anxious to see how Doc would react to riding with the hounds. After a good warm up, we were all called to the kennels to meet the master and her hounds, give our thanks for the meet ahead of us. Doc perked his ears at the baying hounds and their pungent smell. And then we waited. The master had to sort out her hounds, choose who was to hunt and how many to bring along.
Finally, after much sorting, the selected pack poured out of the kennel, all the horses and riders standing at attention. Doc quivered a bit but then realized that all the other horses were just standing, waiting, like this was normal. He sighed and settled some, though his ears remained at attention on the pack of hounds. Shortly thereafter our order had been established and we filed out onto the road: Master, Whips, and hounds first; then the field master, then all the rest of the field. We filed down the road two by two, taking up one lane of the two lane road. The hounds stayed packed in closely to the feet of the master's horse, also staying inside the double yellow line. To me, it was beautiful and amazing to see such order out of these animals. I wondered at what a sight we must be to passing joggers and drivers.
Ten minutes later, we fell into a single file line and ducked into a barely visible opening in the woods. We dropped down a slope, probably 30 feet, and then the master cast her hounds to the scent. The baying began in full and then the field master shouted, "Field up!" and off we ran in a tight string after the hounds. We spun around several tight corners, leaped over jumps, and galloped up and down such steep hills as I'd never imagine to find in Indiana. My assigned partner was Holly on a large grey Percheron/Arab cross--his big white butt made a great target for me and Doc throughout the day, as we'd go galloping across fields, then having to rate it back for each to get over a jump safely.
It seemed such a short time later, though probably an hour had passed, that we gathered the hounds back together and left that first property. Holly explained that it was a small property, not connected to any others we had permission to hunt. We were headed back to Wild Aire Farm to finish our run, mostly in open field with only a few jumps. I was not to be disappointed though by the lack of jumps.
We descended into another open field where the master gave her hounds a short rest. And then she blew on her horn, cast the hounds to the scent, and like rockets we raced after them toward a large, rolling hill. Holly's horse heaved up the hill with great power, his shoes glinting in the still early morning sun. Doc gathered himself up and pushed up the hill with little effort, keeping up easily with the huge half draft. We galloped for probably 20 minutes, following the baying of the hounds. I sat in the middle of Doc's back, following his motion, feeling the sheer power of his well-muscled body. It was a God-like experience, to be able to sit in harmony with these great beast as they gallop across open fields and leap over wooden obstacles.
Shortly after, the master called her hounds back together. We crossed the street one last time back to the main property, galloped up one last steep hill that wound around a lake and back into the woods. It was an easy gallop that descended down one last hill, over one last jump, and then we all gathered together to walk back to the kennels, letting our horses stretch and cool down. Everyone was smiling, everyone laughing. It had been a fabulous hunt, a great way to spend a Saturday morning. And to me, the greatest sport I've ever been privilege to run.
On to the hunt!
Doc and I attended our first foxhunt with hounds yesterday, and it was the most amazing, awe-inspiring experience. The sheer power and speed of the horses, the early morning sun, the glistening dew, the rising fog, the light breeze stirring the first-changing leaves of fall...it was beautiful in every way.
Our day started very early because the hunt was to begin at 8 a.m. I got up at 5:30 and we pulled into the hunt grounds at 7:20-enough time to groom Doc, let him mellow, and hack out with other members of the hunt as everyone arrived. I was excited with anticipation, anxious to see how Doc would react to riding with the hounds. After a good warm up, we were all called to the kennels to meet the master and her hounds, give our thanks for the meet ahead of us. Doc perked his ears at the baying hounds and their pungent smell. And then we waited. The master had to sort out her hounds, choose who was to hunt and how many to bring along.
Finally, after much sorting, the selected pack poured out of the kennel, all the horses and riders standing at attention. Doc quivered a bit but then realized that all the other horses were just standing, waiting, like this was normal. He sighed and settled some, though his ears remained at attention on the pack of hounds. Shortly thereafter our order had been established and we filed out onto the road: Master, Whips, and hounds first; then the field master, then all the rest of the field. We filed down the road two by two, taking up one lane of the two lane road. The hounds stayed packed in closely to the feet of the master's horse, also staying inside the double yellow line. To me, it was beautiful and amazing to see such order out of these animals. I wondered at what a sight we must be to passing joggers and drivers.
Ten minutes later, we fell into a single file line and ducked into a barely visible opening in the woods. We dropped down a slope, probably 30 feet, and then the master cast her hounds to the scent. The baying began in full and then the field master shouted, "Field up!" and off we ran in a tight string after the hounds. We spun around several tight corners, leaped over jumps, and galloped up and down such steep hills as I'd never imagine to find in Indiana. My assigned partner was Holly on a large grey Percheron/Arab cross--his big white butt made a great target for me and Doc throughout the day, as we'd go galloping across fields, then having to rate it back for each to get over a jump safely.
It seemed such a short time later, though probably an hour had passed, that we gathered the hounds back together and left that first property. Holly explained that it was a small property, not connected to any others we had permission to hunt. We were headed back to Wild Aire Farm to finish our run, mostly in open field with only a few jumps. I was not to be disappointed though by the lack of jumps.
We descended into another open field where the master gave her hounds a short rest. And then she blew on her horn, cast the hounds to the scent, and like rockets we raced after them toward a large, rolling hill. Holly's horse heaved up the hill with great power, his shoes glinting in the still early morning sun. Doc gathered himself up and pushed up the hill with little effort, keeping up easily with the huge half draft. We galloped for probably 20 minutes, following the baying of the hounds. I sat in the middle of Doc's back, following his motion, feeling the sheer power of his well-muscled body. It was a God-like experience, to be able to sit in harmony with these great beast as they gallop across open fields and leap over wooden obstacles.
Shortly after, the master called her hounds back together. We crossed the street one last time back to the main property, galloped up one last steep hill that wound around a lake and back into the woods. It was an easy gallop that descended down one last hill, over one last jump, and then we all gathered together to walk back to the kennels, letting our horses stretch and cool down. Everyone was smiling, everyone laughing. It had been a fabulous hunt, a great way to spend a Saturday morning. And to me, the greatest sport I've ever been privilege to run.