Sunday, October 28, was Opening Hunt for Wolf Creek Hunt. I have been awaiting this day for at least 4 years. For some reason, foxhunting has been a goal of mine for that long. Things have never worked out for me until this fall.
The Master was kind enough to let my friend and I stable our horses at his barn, since we drove down the night before. The next morning we got up and began braiding. OY! It was 40 degrees, dark and my eyes ain’t what they used to be! The only place I could tie Buddy put my back directly to the light. He was fidgeting from being in the stall (which hasn’t happened ever in the last 7 years of his life!), and wanting to eat the grass next to the stable. So I’m spraying his mane with water, braiding tiny tiny tiny little braids, all on a horse that is determined to wiggle and squirm. By the 5th braid my fingers were numb. By the 6th braid I’m thinking, “even though I’m a professional hairdresser, why didn’t hire someone to braid?” Seventeen braids later, and me swearing that Buddy needed Equine Ritalin, I got them done. Just as I was looping them and tying them off, my friend said we had to leave NOW. ACK! We quickly banded them, and my fingers were completely numb and useless by this time. I was sooooo frustrated, and felt like The Weakest Link.
Got down to the clubhouse; tried to get dressed; couldn’t fasten the buttons on my shirt due to frozen fingers. Got my stock tied fixed and managed to get the pin in somewhat straight. Vest went on; black coat; acorn gloves in pocket; hairnet fastened with 80,000 bobbypins; helmet on. Then I tacked up Buddy, threw myself in the saddle and we trotted up to the kennels. Everyone else was up there already, and I was so upset that I was running late. My friend was very helpful, and we got there just as the Stirrup Cup was being served. Hot mulled wine sure tasted good on a cold morning, and Buddy was thrilled to graze. As I looked around the yard, and saw the field in their formal attire, I got choked up. Call me sentimental, but the timeless beauty of the hounds, field member, staff with colors, gentlemen in scarlets; it just got to me. The priest arrived and held the blessing; we had seconds of the stirrup cup; were given beautiful sterling silver St. Hubert’s medals; hounds were released and off we went.
As we went down the road to the first covert, my heart was in my throat. I was nervous about how I’d do that day. I knew that with the temperatures in the low 40’s; the recent rain; the ground fog; etc. there was a chance that the scenting would be quite good. Could I keep up? Would Buddy stay calm and sane, or would he be too much for me to handle? All I thought about was, “Just try not to embarrass yourself too badly!” Once again, I felt tears well up as I rode behind the pack on the right side, and saw all the hounds cheerfully bouncing around the Master’s horse, all in a nice, tight pack. I felt like I was riding in a calendar.
The Master reached the first covert, and within the first 10 seconds the hounds found a HOT line…continued in Part II since this is longer than I anticipated!
