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A Hunt Story |
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Another gorgeous autumn and another Opening Hunt! The morning air is cold , crisp and dry as the sun begins to light the vast expanse of sky above us. Humans and animals alike shiver from both chill and anticipation. The hounds are baying, eager to be off but trying to be obedient to the Master. The horses jig and snort. Finally the horn sounds and we move off. So far, this scene could be in Ireland, England, Virginia, or anywhere in the world that folks hunt with hounds. But, wait, the setting here is dramatically different from the traditional Currier & Ives scenery so familiar to those who dream foxhunting dreams. The landscape spreading out in front of us is dotted with jagged rocks and many varieties of cactus, from the tall, majestic Sahuaro to the short, vicious Jumping Cholla. Nowhere to be seen are the usual rock walls, verdant pastures, hedges, ha-ha's, ditches, and towering shade trees. Instead, the hunt takes in desert expanses and deep arroyos showing the signs of infrequent but violent water passage. A long bleached longhorn skull accents the scene. Surprisingly, the footing is good - sand and cinder with only the odd rocky patch here and there, dotted with sparse desert flora . Where, one might ask, are the moisture and grass, those elements that make the detection of scent possible? Yet, the keener nosed Beagles scurry here and there, noses firmly to the ground, until, suddenly, they give tongue and we’re off!! |
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| Desert terrain replacing verdant growth,
cacti replacing trees, Beagles replacing Foxhounds.
As if all that were not enough to confound foxhunting dreams,
let’s further confuse this improbable scene by adding three or four
Welsh Cobs. What, Cobs in
the Desert hunting?! Absolutely!! There
is the Whipper-in's stallion, applying his innate abilities to protect
and control his herd to the six or seven couple of hounds in front of
him. Behind him is the
Fieldmaster’s mount, a dominant Cob mare, proud and determined. No
errant field horses are going to forget either who is in charge or where
they themselves belong. Close
behind are two more cobs, knowing their place, but never falling behind
the action - no lollygagging at the back for this crew! The pace is fast, then slow, then fast again. The Cobs, settling into their huge, but energy saving trot, have no difficulty keeping up with the others who must gallop to keep pace. The Cobs' endurance and keen work ethic keeps them going right up to the end. After a glorious morning, the hounds have had enough, and the horses slowly make their way back to the trailer for a carrot or two, long drinks of water and well-stuffed hay nets. We riders, stuffed with the always outstanding Hunt Breakfast (one thing that never changes), sit around stretching tired muscles and chatting about, what else, our lovely, loyal horses and hounds, and where we will hunt next weekend. The setting and some of the players may seem unusual, but the essentials – and the thrill – remain unchanging. |
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