Foxhunting at Wye Island

Four of us from Howard County-Iron Bridge journeyed across the Bay Bridge with the big rig today to go hunting on Wye Island. This was part of our Mid-Maryland Centennial Celebration. Recall this is the celebration of 100 years of something or other and no-one has ever told me what (there's been foxhunting in Maryland a lot longer than 100 years). Anyway, "the Centennial" whatever it is has been a great opportunity to hunt around all sorts of other places in Maryland, besides Howard County, and meet most of the foxhunters in the State. We have all enjoyed "the Centennial" so much this year we are planning to do it again next year!

As you can imagine, hunting the Wye Mills Plantation on Wye Island is very historic and also very beautiful considering it is the Eastern Shore and a State Park and all. This is where the Wye Oak (biggest oak tree in Maryland) used to live before it blew down in a storm a few years ago. George Washington did something here, and also the Duke of Norfolk who's ancestral home was Arundel Castle and I think Mark Twain went foxhunting with Wicomico, etc. Then there was that failed Middle East peace conference at Wye Mills. You get the idea. Today is was beautiful and sunny and warm. Which, by the way, is terrible foxhunting weather (no scent).

Some foxhunting items of note:

• The fearless leader of our barn, Dale, is on vacation in the Caribbean so we had no adult supervision. It was just me, Robbie, Crystal (secretary of our club) and Julia (all around nice person). For those of you who know these animals, we took Burton (me), Manny (Robbie), Becket (Crystal) and Wolfie (Julia). For those of you who know Robbie, he's the one who takes credit for teaching me to drive a two-horse trailer and who has driven me to screech out in the truck, "Serenity now!" (he's chatty in a mid-Maryland kind of way).
• The day started well with me pouring coffee all over my canary vest, getting boot polish on my knee, and getting my hair (which had expanded extraordinarily in the rainy dawn) stuck in a haynet on the trailer. Also, Burton fell off the trailer when we put him on at first and then understandably wasn't so interested in getting back on again. And then we tried to put Becket in a stall on the trailer that also had the mounting block in it. "Becket! Move Back Becket! Stupid Horse! MOVE! Oh. Sorry."
• We had to drive the big rig over the Bay Bridge. Robbie was driving, being the only boy and the youngest by easily 10 years. Also, the only one of us four who is actually checked out on the big rig by Dale. We old ladies were not very interested in the ride over the bridge. In fact, before we left the farm we had all stood around the back of the Dooley looking at the mechanism that locks the big rig onto the truck and wondering out loud whether it would stay on for the two hour drive. "Robbie, should we put the chains on just in case the lock comes loose?" "No." "Why not?" "I tell you what, Kim, if that thing comes loose on top of the bridge there's nothing I can do. And I also tell you what, no chain is going to hold that thing onto the Dooley. In fact, I tell you what, all we'd do is drag the Dooley over the bridge with the trailer. Dang." That made us all feel better.
• We set off to the East. I sang songs in the truck to keep people entertained. We sang "Oh my darling Clementine" because the "fell into the foaming brine" part seemed apt. We sang "I Can See Clearly Now, the Rain Is Gone," once the rain had finally gone. We sang the Mission Impossible theme song as we approached the bridge. We talked about the Iowa caucuses (Robbie did not participate). Then we were at the bridge.
• As most of you know, the bridge is only two lanes going east. We get on the bridge and everything seems fine and then Crystal starts talking to Robbie and Robbie turns to look at her to respond and Julia and I yell in unison "Keep your eyes on the road!" Not like we had been staring at the driver or the road or anything. This emboldened Robbie to then pretend to take his hands off the wheel, look around, point out scenic vistas down the bay, etc. Then he pointed out that Burton was looking out the window of the trailer at the water far below. We wondered what would happen if he tried to jump out of his stall (it's possible, the ties are breakaway in case of an accident). All this did not sit well with us girls. So we decided to look at other things in the truck instead of out the windows -- our blackberries, a magazine, Julia scrubbed madly at mud spots on coats, etc. We made it over safely.
• Wye Island is, obviously, flat as a pancake. Our horses were taken aback. This is not real exercise to them, running on flat ground. Our territory is hilly and rough so at "flatland" fixtures our horses don't even break a sweat (and visitors to our territory typically wipe out within an hour). Not only that, Wicomico and Marlborough hunt hounds that are slower than ours (Penn Marydels as opposed to American Foxhounds, for those of you who care). So even when we did run, which was not often due to poor scenting, it was very slow by our standards. Robbie, Crystal, Julia and I were all up front behind the masters because we had won the "drove farthest" award, and we had a hard time keeping our fit, fast horses in their proper place . Manny is a steeplechase racer, Becket is off the track, Burton is a 7/8th Irish thoroughbred, Wolfie is enormous.
• Our horses compensated by a) flinging themselves over every tiny obstacle that presented itself -- stands of beach grass, cornstalks, little ditches, banks to roads, etc. and b) playing bumper cars with each other. Robbie thought it was entertaining to run up next to me and Burton and sideswip us. Burton is not exactly the friendliest horse so he would react by turning to Wolfie who was next to us and biting him, a move logical only to a horse. Wolfie is a bit of a dumbo so he would look at us and say, "hey...wha?" and then a long time later due to Wolfie's generally slow reactions, he would bite Burton back. Burton would fling his head in an affronted manner. Meanwhile, Manny and Robbie are still gleefully bashing into us from the outside. Maybe we humans were a little under stimulated too.
• At one point we passed a very large holly tree. It was so large I turned to Julia and said, "I bet that is the biggest holly tree in Maryland. In fact, I bet it's the Wye Holly Tree!" And then, yay verily verily, moments later we pass a sign pointing back to the "Wye Holly Tree Trail." How 'bout that. Next time we're there I'm going to look for the Wye Bonsai Tree.
• We sang in the hunt field as well. I'm trying to bring more singing to foxhunting cuz I'm sick of hearing the "hey horse, why the long face?" joke. Burton's selection was "Walk like a man, talk like a man." Manny's was "mission impossible" again because he was REALLY trying hard to stay behind the masters. We all sang "where did he where did he go? My lovelies!" to inspire the hounds. We all did the "See my vest!" version of the Beauty and the Beast song (see my vest! see my vest! made from real, gorilla chest!) [full lyrics below] because that's what naturally comes to mind when you don your canary vest. Someone did the oompa loompa song. Julia remarked that I had a song for every occasion. I told her that was true. It is my Soundtrack for Living.
• The most amusing moment was we were running across a cornfield and we came to a little wash that ran down to the Wye River and had tall beach grass on the sides. The masters in front of us went through the grass but Burton was a little bored by the slow pace so he jumped over the beach grass -- which was pretty high, way higher than we normally jump. I was unprepared, shall we say. Robbie started to laugh but then Manny did exactly the same thing and so Robbie stopped laughing.
• Another funny moment was we emerged from a wooded area and went running to the left, right past a sign that said "All Horses Stay to the Right."
• We hunted for four hours and then put the horses back on the trailer in their sweat suits and had a fabulous breakfast in a cabin besides the river and watched the sun go down on the bay and then headed back to the bridge. It was dark by this time so we figured the drive over the bridge would be less alarming. And also, going west the bridge is three lanes so we figured we'd be in the middle lane. But no. Robbie refuses to get in the middle lane, on purpose I'm sure, and keeps to the far left lane -- the fast lane -- while we girls huddled in the back and cleaned mud off things and looked at phones and blackberries again. We keep looking quickly out to see if it's clear to get into the middle lane. "Robbie, I think it's clear now if you want to get in the middle lane." "Dang, I tell you what Kim, I'm not sure I want to be wiggling this thing around up here in the dark. I think I'll stay right where I am." Sigh.
  We sang all the way home as well. "One Night in Bangkok," that Tribe Called Quest song about "strictly collard greens and the occasional steak, goes on my plate!" That Cake song about the girl in the long jacket. "Electric Avenue." Etc. Crystal's contribution was "mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy."
  

Later we found out that the dratted fox had been running back and forth along the beach the whole day, just beyond the tree line, out of sight of the horses and humans and out of reach of the hounds. The fox is probably out on his power boat in the Bay now, laughing.

Kim



See My Vest

Some men hunt for sport,
Others hunt for food,
The only thing I'm hunting for,
Is an outfit that looks good...

See my vest, see my vest,
Made from real gorilla chest,
Feel this sweater, there's no better,
Than authentic Irish setter.

See this hat, 'twas my cat,
My evening wear - vampire bat,
These white slippers are albino
African endangered rhino.

Grizzly bear underwear,
Turtles' necks, I've got my share,
Beret of poodle, on my noodle
It shall rest,

Try my red robin suit,
It comes one breast or two,
See my vest, see my vest,
See my vest.

Like my loafers? Former gophers -
It was that or skin my chauffeurs,
But a greyhound fur tuxedo
Would be best,

So let's prepare these dogs,

Mrs. Potts: Kill two for matching clogs,

Burns: See my vest, see my vest,
Oh please, won't you see my vest.