Burton at the Kennels

So I went foxhunting this morning with Burton. The facts are that we had wet conditions and a very large field (50 riders or so) and we got the fox. We hunted for 2.5 hours, we did a lot of running, we jumped several ditches numerous time, one collection of twigs that sprayed up into the air, one small spindly evergreen tree that had fallen over (several times -- it was near the aforementioned ditches), and one large manmade log jump, maybe 2 feet 9 inches high, going uphill. Nobody fell off. No mishaps of which we are aware except my friend Amanda's horse lost both of its left shoes (due to mud).

The story of this hunt is better than that, though. First of all, we went off from the kennels at 7 a.m. The kennels are in Damascus, Maryland, which is where Montgomery County, Frederick County, and Howard County all meet in a point. It is 45 minutes from my house. One has to be there half an hour before setting off to get your horse off the trailer and ready to go before the hounds assemble and start making a racket. So I got there at 6:30. Which means I left my house at 5:30, which means I got up at 5, etc. And this was an easy morning because someone else was grooming my horse and taking him and loading him on the trailer from where he lives to go the kennels in the first place. Soon I won't have that luxury and will have to first drive to barn, prepare animal, load animal, then follow trailer to location for hunting etc. On the upside, as the season progress, start times move back so that by November we're starting off at 11 instead of 7.

The point of this explanation is not to say woe is me I head to get up so early but to explain why when I was driving up 270 this morning it was pitch black. Totally pitch black (it was also raining). In fact, when I got to the kennels at 6:30 it was still pitch black. All the trailers started pulling off the tiny windy road into the kennels with lights on and parked and kept their engines running so that the lights in the stalls would stay on so you could see to put on bridles, etc. The noise and atmosphere was similar a truck stop at night only punctuated with horse-type noises and hounds barking. I am always struck by how the trailers materialize out of nowhere all at the same time and pull off the road in a steady stream.

I began to worry that the sun would not actually rise and we would have to hunt in the dark. I wondered how that would go in the woods. How would we see the jumps? What if the horse in front of me was black? We certainly wouldn't see the fox, etc. But then suddenly at five of 7 the sun rose over the soybean fields and there was light and everybody mounted in a big hurry and we set off.

What followed for the next hour was in retrospect funny but at the time a little annoying. We trot downhill down a paved road (hard on the legs) and then gallop to the right and head madly into the woods. We jump the first ditch, then the twigs sprayed up in the air, then the fallen over evergreen and then come to a sudden stop. We turn around and gallop madly back to the road and continue trotting down it (rather steep at this point). Then we come to a sudden stop. Then we trot up the road the way we had come, turn back into the woods, and gallop madly over the ditch, twigs, evergreen, etc. Another reverse. Gallop over all aforementioned obstacles in reverse order back to the road, canter down the road this time (very noise, hard on the back), sudden stop, reverse back up the hill. Why? we wondered? WHAT IS GOING ON? Every time we reversed the whole field doubled back on itself and one could wave at one's friends farther back in the field as you passed and say "good morning!' and examine animals for lost shoes or wounds or see if anyone had fallen off. But four times in a row of doubling back got annoying.

So we finally galloped out of these woods and into the bean fields and then back down into some other woods and over quite a treacherous ditch and we proceed to repeat that exercise several times -- galloping madly back and forth over the same terrain so that the sides of the ditches got really worn down and squishy and the evergreen got flat from being stepped on by enormous foxhunters, etc. At one point we galloped around two of the four sides of a quite large bean field and we were going so fast I literally could not see very well and there was mud in my face and I had to keep leaning way down to avoid getting hit in the head by trees that lined the field. Was also completely out of breath even though I was not the one actually running. We were going so fast and there were so many of us spread out single file that by the time our master got to the end of the field and went down into the woods, the last person in the field was still just getting off the road and starting off into the beans. I turned around and looked back at us all spread out full tilt at single file at one point and it was really very cool looking. (By the way, bean fields are very pretty this time of year because they are turning yellow and there was fog and a light drizzle and only in the 60s.)

We jumped the manmade log jump, uphill in the woods, with a dazzling display of hunt field etiquette. Everyone went single file, everyone left space in case the horse in front encountered difficulties over the obstacle, everyone approached at an even steady pace, and everyone jumped without incidence with a maximum of stylishness. We were all QUITE PLEASED and did a little cheer for ourselves (Burton stumbled on a soggy wood pulpy thing right at take off but made it over just fine with a lot of cheer and elan.)

The only time I got slightly alarmed was one time galloping down hill. We were going a little too fast, and we were entering a part of the woods with slippery footing and very tight turns and lots of saplings to avoid hitting. I knew that coming up we would have to do a hairpin turn to the right to get back on the trail and I knew we were going too fast to make the turn. So I start to pull Burton up and he was going sufficiently fast that to slow down he had to basically park his hind legs and doing a barrel racing type stop only down hill in the mud, which bounced me up out of the saddle a little bit just at the time that we started weaving through the saplings and heading for the hairpin. So I was up in the air trying not to fall off the front of my horse since we were going downhill and the horse starts weaving and I start weaving the other way (involuntarily) and I end up standing way out in my left stirrup as the horse goes right and I say "Uh-Oh!" pretty loud somehow clamber back on and end up still on to of Burton but without any reins or stirrups and brushing perilously close to little saplings as we continue galloping madly. That was a little scary. My friend Petra in front of me was having similar difficulties as it turned out. But we stayed on.

In general, we did quite an excessive amount of running. We were either standing still or running. Which is "good sport" but very tiring because you basically MUST KEEP GOING and you can't sort of take a rest for 5 minutes or else you will be lost forever in the hinterland. Also, it is very bad form unless you have an injury or some other emergency. It is better to be in the front field than the back field because even though the front field is faster, you get more breaks. If you are in the back field, then you just catch up to the rest of the field and the master runs off again. Burton had a very good time and presumably felt right at home with the drizzle and the wet footing and the fog and mist and the chill. It reminded me of a riding trip I took in Ireland one time where it basically rained for 5 days straight.

When we were all done I learned that riding among us that day was a man who is the joint master of the Golden Vale hounds in Tipperary, Ireland. His name is John Lang. He was very jolly and gay and comes over to say hello to Burton and then the light dawns and I realize that this is the John Lang who actually bred Burton and brought him here from Ireland to begin with. So he tells me all about Burton and it turns out that his farm in Ireland is called Ballycormac Farm and so Burton's official name is Ballycormac Burton. Which I like.

I came home and took a three hour nap under the covers and in my pj's and everything. Next time out is Wednesday morning.....