Everyone was most excited.
Notable events:
- We had nine horses to get ready in the morning. Our three person crew was a little rusty from its hiatus. I was the leg, belly and hoof lady, Robbie was the head, face and back guy, and we fought over who had to do the tail. Brittany was the tack girl (mainly). Dale roved around and told us all what we're doing wrong, as per usual.
- Two hours later, once all the horses were cleaned and tacked, it was time to make our human selves beautiful. I was very excited to wear my new proper ladies' hunt frock that I had purchased on a recent shopping trip to Virginia hunt country along with a genuine English vest with a wool back (very hard to find, oddly). My frock is as heavy as a curtain and lined with wool and very smart. My vest has 6 buttons down the front, way more than the lousy 4 buttons on my nasty old sateen-backed vest.
- We load up the trailers and then I go to put my stuff in the truck for the big rig, where I usually ride with Dale. Robbie usually drives the small trailer. Instead, I am waylaid and told to put my stuff in the small. "Put your stuff in here." "Why?" "Cuz you're driving this trailer." "Oh. What are you going to drive?" "Nothing, I'm passengering with you." It was Dale's plan to train me to drive the trailer. I think this is all good and well except I suspect that having Robbie as my chaperone would be like learning to drive with a cross between your father and your despised ex-boyfriend.
- And I was right. As soon as we pull off the property it begins. "Speed up. Okay, slow down. Speed up. You can go the speed limit. The speed limit is 40 here. Slow down. Don't go so fast. Why are you going so slow. You just clobbered the horses. Hope the horses are okay. Easy on the turn. Don't stop at this stop sign. STOP AT THE STOP SIGN! Okay, that's okay. Pretty good, I guess. Beep and wave at the landowner ('HELLOOOOOOOOOO landowner!"). Okay, you can speed up again. You don't need to go so fast on the curve. Make a hard right but don't stop. Roll. Roll. Roll. Don't stop ("but Robbie there's a car coming") okay stop but be careful about the horses. No brakes down this hill use your momentum. Put on your brakes down the hill! Etc." At one point he made his point about how I could go a little faster by leaning over and physically pushing my foot down on the gas. I got the point. Every now and then I got "hey, I really like this song" or "you got any cookies in your fancy new ladies' frock?" but mainly it was stop go slow fast left right, etc.
Our exhausting 15 minute drive culminated with me pulling into the yard at the kennels to a sudden outburst from him "PUSH THE BUTTON! PUSH THE BUTTON! YOU NEED THE BUTTON! NOW! NOW! THE BUTTON!!!" I had no idea what was going on. What button? There is total chaos in the cab of the truck. Are we going to explode? We both start screaming. Finally Robbie leans all the way across me and pushes a tiny, hidden, virtually invisible button between the steering wheel and the driver's side window to turn on the four wheel drive. He thought without it we'd get stuck in the four feet of grass we had to drive across at the kennels. - We were so ridiculously early, despite all that, that we stayed in the truck with the heated seats and started sipping our flasks and eating cookies. The angst of the drive was quickly forgotten. Other trailers arrive and note that I am in the driver's seat, not Robbie. Many of the women nod with approval (you go girl!). They do not know what it took to get there.
The hunt itself was quite wonderful. There was lots of ice and snow in the woods, and we stayed mainly in the woods. Horses, hounds and humans were most happy to be out. It was cool -- mid-40s, but my curtain-esque ladies' frock and wool-backed vest kept me warm and toasty. Burton was one of the few horses still in shape from the snow storms (lots of people couldn't exercise their horses at all of late) so we cruised effortlessly up and down all the hills, through the mud, muck, ice and snow, through the creeks, over the bean-fields, etc. - I learned how to gallop down hill on a sheet of ice. Not as hard as you think. You basically just can't think about the fact that it is ice.
- I learned how to jump down hill into clouds of kicked-up snow. I used to be terrified of jumping downhill AND of riding in snow. And now I think my favorite thing may just be jumping down hill in snow!
- Robbie was whipping a little and went off into the woods to get a hound that had become inappropriately obsessed with a groundhog. He starts whopping at the hound to "leave it! leave it!" Sounded a lot like his driving instructions, actually. The hound ignored him and broke the groundhog's neck and then brought the groundhog over to the field and presented it to us with great pride. Carter then starts in on the hound, "leave it! leave it!" Hound moves up the field and passes me and I say "leave it!" too even though I'm not sure I'm supposed to as a mere lowly member of the field and not staff or honorary staff or even a person with colors or anything. Amazingly, the hound drops the groundhog right next to me and Burton! Burton looks at back at me in shock, as if to say, "Dang woman! The hound did what you said!"
- Roger our master was quite entertaining on this ride because he told us that our Old Fashioned Point to Point race would be at this same fixture on Saturday. This is basically an intra club races where you have to get from start to finish by going through three designated "points" and the fastest one there (who is usually the one who knows the territory the best) wins. So the whole day he is dropping hints like, "well, here we are at the bridge on Long Corner Road -- could be a point!" Or, "some of you may know that we call this Morris's Pond. So if that's a point, now you know!" Or, "this is the fence line on Wendy Tackis's property. So would you have any idea what I meant if I said Point 2 is the intersection of the gas line and Wendy Tackis's gate? Hmmm? Anyone? Get the point? Hah ha!" Everyone took careful note of everything.
- Afterwards Robbie did not let me drive (shocking) and instead we went to lunch at a place in Mt. Airy. Being in the truck when Robbie is behind the wheel is like going on a personal guided tour of Vehicular Mishaps Through the Ages. Imagine Boomhauer from King of the Hill, or a Maryland tobacco auctioneer, describing the first time he ever drove over this particular hill in a sports car with his buddies in high school ("I tell you what, we had NO IDEA this hill was here until we were 30 feet up in the air looking down at it! Dang!), or whether that rotted jeep in so-and-so's drive way could pull his jeep out of the river, or how we could hunt so-and-so's farm if only we could get the rigs up the road without getting stuck like the time he did with a 27 million horse trailer and only a 2 cylinder motorcycle engine (or maybe it was just a bicycle chain, can't remember) but he SUCH AN AMAZING DRIVER that he was the only one who made it in (dang), or describing the time he called 911 cuz some woman went off the road into the river Right At this Very Spot Here on Daisy Road, Kim! and was screaming her head off so at least he knew she wasn't hurt that much, ("I tell you what Kim, If you're screaming, you can't be that hurt."). I also learn every iota of his work schedule for the week, even the extremely boring parts of it. I learn his views about Country Music Old and New (he prefers New).
- I observe a pretty bird flying in the air. I say, "that's a loon, my Mom told me all about it." Response: "Dang that ain't nothing for a big bird -- once I saw this pterodactyl, and it was 27 million inches wide, and it had brown AND black feathers and was carrying a baby tyrannosaurus rex in its mouth which it almost dropped on my jeep but I tell you what me and my buddies GUNNED THAT THING and got back to the Outtatheway Cafe just in time but it sure was a close call...." Etc.
- We get to our lunch spot. It still strikes me as odd to drive up to a diner with two fully loaded horse trailers in full hunting attire (we are careful to take our spurs off before entering), and walk into to sit down to an hour+ meal with a bunch of people who have just come from church. Horses just hang out in the parking lot in the trailers. What if someone stole them? What if they got in a fight? What if they get cold? Don't people think we're weird in our canary vests and tall boots?
- At lunch I learned that somewhat unexpectedly that not all country people demand the same level of polite cocktail party chit chat that I'm used to or that my colleagues require at firm outings or that Robbie appears to indulge in while driving the truck. There I am, shell shocked from my cacophonous truck ride, vainly trying to make conversation with everyone, asking them about their upcoming plans, seeing if they enjoyed the day's sport, etc. I notice that no-one else is talking much. Dale eventually says, "you know Kim, we don't normally talk this much." I say, "oh?" She says, "yeah, if you weren't here, we'd be sitting in companionable silence." I look at Robbie suspiciously (surely HE would not be silent?). Robbie smiles and suggests I practice some companionable silence.
- And the irony of that just takes my breath away.
- So the next time the boy is hollering at me in the trailer, or one-upping my nice loon with pterodactyl stories, or claiming to be totally non-plussed by a damsel in distress cuz "screaming equals consciousness" or some such nonsense, I plan to holler right back at him "Hey! Give me some Companionable Silence!" Like Castanza on Seinfeld -- SERENITY NOW!
And of course, that has become our new favorite joke.
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