Well, I just celebrated my diamond jubilee:) and have no plans to quit hunting or riding. Admittedly I hunt far less now due to living in Utah, but hey, it’s like riding a bicycle. When last I hunted in Virginia, September 2010, went for a day of cubhunting on a borrowed horse, ended up whipping in, popped a coop or two for the first time in a while, no worries.
But, I suppose I should add, I’m crazy.
The two ‘made’ hunters that moved to Utah with me are sadly long gone, but my now 9 YO appendix has hunted 20 or so times out west here. No, he doesn’t jump, or I haven’t schooled him to jump- his front end is ugly enough that it just wouldn’t hold up to the pounding- but for the occasional hunting foray, he has no trouble popping over sagebrush or ditches, and in paneled country (rare out here) there are ways to get around. And I will add, as I age, no worries with him, he isn’t a dead head but would safely pack pretty much anybody in our very rugged Rocky Mountain terrain.
My little 7 yo mare, just over 14h, has not hunted yet but is a lovely little jumper given the limited schooling she’s had, not more than 2’6" but she Just Doesn’t Care. So when the 16h gelding looks too tall, I have my little ol’ lady’s horse lined up. So I think I’m good to go, for a while.
Keeping both fit and riding fit is important. I should do better. But I do ride at least 3-4 days a week (more in summer, less in winter) and the terrain I routinely negotiate on trail rides is pretty darned trappy, so neither I nor horses get out of practice.
But just now my only problems are, distance to meets makes hunting not very often (6 hours minimum, one way), and, well, my hunting clothes are given to shrinking in the closet owing to lack of use. Very evil, that process.
So here is my long term plan, and I freely admit I plagiarize (with some tweaks) from an FOL post years ago:
I picture myself, somewhere between 98 and 108, galloping along in Piedmont’s Friday country on a nice thoroughbred, hounds in full cry and you could throw a blanket over them, about 5 miles into the run, having galloped a half dozen stone walls out of stride, and suddenly complete and total cardiac arrest, and I fall to the ground, deader than a doornail.
Sadly, my boyfriend will be so horribly upset, he’ll just have to drop out of college for the remainder of the semester to recover.