When my trainer suggested that I try fox hunting, I was skeptical. First of all, having to wear a very specific set of clothing (which I did not own) and riding in a huge group at a pace dictated by someone else did not actually sound like that much fun. I did not know if there was an actual fox involved, but if there was I would definitely not participate. She assured me that there are good reasons for the wardrobe, there was no actual fox, and I would get to ride in beautiful terrain that is not otherwise available to me.
So, I attended a Hunt Clinic put on by Green Mountain Hounds, which is half-day event to introduce new folks to the hunt. During the didactic session in the clubhouse, I learned that the most important people are the landowners who allow us to ride on their land. This had not occurred to me but yes, I agreed wholeheartedly. I learned that the reason they wear fine trim coats and breeches and clean black boots and hair tied up is to show respect to the landowners, who probably don’t want to see a rag-tag bunch of riders in tank tops and jeans and muddy boots galloping across their property. Okay, that made sense to me too. I learned that the reason they wear a stock tie and pin is that in an emergency these can be used to stop bleeding or fashion a sling. Brilliant! And I learned that the group is divided into two and sometimes three fields: first field which goes fast and jumps every jump; second field which goes a little slower and jumps are optional, and third field which goes even slower and does not jump. We then mounted our horses and practiced the hand signals we were taught, which are very effective at communicating along a long line of horses silently. I practiced staying afloat and keeping Gold Fox, a 17.2-hand warmblood with a huge trot, from passing the other horses.
I had to concede that the hunt club was not as snooty as I thought. In fact they were not snooty at all. Everyone was very friendly and I felt welcomed. I guess that some clubs are very strict about protocol, but The Green Mountain Hounds is pretty forgiving. Yes, you should be wearing black boots, but if you only own black paddock boots and half chaps, you are good to go. If your coat or breeches are not exactly the right color, do your best. They want you to come enjoy the hunt more than they want you have perfect attire.
Still a little skeptical but curious, I agreed to go on a hunt. Instead of Gold Fox I rode one of my trainer’s horses, whom I thought would be less strong. The mare was still a handful and I spent a lot of energy holding her back, but to be galloping across fields with dozens of other horses, feeling the wind on my face (I know it is cliché but it’s true!) was exhilarating. My next hunt was on Gold Fox and again, it was fun, but I spent most of my attention and energy holding him back and trying to post his humongous trot.
Fast forward one year. I now had a new horse, Tupelo Honey, and got a last minute invitation from my trainer to go to one of the last hunts of the fall. I had spent the summer getting Tupelo in shape and thought he could probably handle second field, so I said “yes”. We were borrowing a trailer and we ran into some trouble hooking it to the truck. As the minutes ticked by my disappointment at possibly missing the hunt grew. Finally, we got the trailer connected and, without taking time to check the brake lights we loaded the horses and peeled out (we only had to go a few miles on back roads). Pulling into the driveway of the hunt “fixture” (location) and parking in a big field, I was overwhelmed with gratitude that people allow trucks and trailers and horses to traipse around and make ruts and hoofprints on their land.
Tupelo is a very curious horse and when I unloaded him he was very interested in everything going on around him. If he had his way he would greet every horse there with a touch of the nose. With the sound of the horn we started off on the hunt. There are dogs of course – lots of dogs – which you do not call “dogs” but “hounds.” They are the second most important aspect of the hunt (after the landowners) and their job is to follow a scent that has been laid down by a human “fox.” The scent is anise, which the hounds have been trained to follow (rather than fox urine) so they won’t end up following a real fox if they come across one’s trail.
When the hounds find the scent they bark and bray and take off in a mad dash. The horses in first field follow a little behind, and we in second field even farther behind. Basically the hunt involves walking, trotting, and galloping through field and forest, hither and yon, following the hounds until they find the “fox” (a person who is sitting somewhere waiting for them and rewards them with treats). This takes several hours and is punctuated by stops when the hounds lose the scent and have to sniff all around a large area until they pick it up again. At these stops people pass around flasks of bourbon or schnapps (no matter the time of day), which certainly warms you up on a cold fall day. A few times we cross our own path or even double back. It doesn’t really matter because galloping around this beautiful land is incredibly exciting. My horse gets a little tired near the end but his own excitement keeps him going.
After the hunt there is a lovely meal provided by club members in an historic barn on the property. I am flush with joy at the whole experience. Tupelo did so well; he kept up the pace but did not try to pass the other horses, was calm when we stopped, and seemed to really enjoy himself.
I now understand why people like (foxless) foxhunting so much.
Monica
