Up at 3:45AM.   Out the door by 4:30.   Spinach Dip and Cracked Pepper Corn Irish Soda Bread packed for the Tea (pot luck) along with a bottle of Chicken Whine for Simone (one of our Masters/and friend). My younger daughter and I are going to the Hunt.

At the fixture, it’s still pre-dawn.  Arriving trucks and horse trailers are doing their aluminum and steel, well-reversed dance in & around the trees in a pasture, in the dark, finding the best parking.

 

The rising sun is starting to glow.  It’s 7:00AM and the gather-up of riders & mounts has begun. Hounds are vocally excited and loosed from their trailer……………and the first rider goes down……………….hard on the gravel drive.  In the still monochromatic light, he’s not rushing to get up.  He’s not really even moving much.  He’s an experienced Hunter and not a whiner.  Some one goes after his horse.

My daughter & I are passengers in the Hunt’s Polaris this morning.  Our Honorary Huntsman’s husband is driving.  Our Professional Huntsman is a passenger today too.  By the time we drive over to the dumped rider, he is up, dusting himself off and making light of it all.  (We find out later from his wife that he has to buy a new riding helmet because his old one had multiple cracks in it from the fall.)

The hounds are collected, Huntsman and Whipper-Ins are at the ready now………….and we are off……..!

I love this Club.

Watching the sun come up, the dew sparkles, and the steam rises.  With the rising heat comes the rising smells.  The weeds, the leaves, the bark, mud, the horses.  I am so happy when I’m outside.  All these things are therapeutic for me.  The only thing that would have been better is that I would have been fit enough to be in the saddle and Hunting again.

I still need training-wheels, I’m not quite there yet since the last knee replacement.  I’m getting there.  I’m getting there.  Just not fast enough.  I feel like that cartoon of the impatient vulture waiting for something to die.

I can’t wait to be riding and Hunting again.  I realize I’m an Equine-Adrenaline-Junkie.

So we take off in the Polaris in a cloud of dust.  It is a great machine! Through the river and over the woods we go!!!  It’s one of those rides where you are flying around in the back seat, hanging onto anything for stability.  Exposed chassis beams, someone’s nostril, flying coolers……………anything you can get a grip on!  It’s great!

There’s even this extra, observation seat that’s up above the Polaris’ roof in the back.  The death seat…………………….I want to sit there.  It’s tall and wavy (much like the sapling-game of my youth).  I’m told I can’t today.  It needs re-welding…………………….how did they come to find that out(?)……………………….there’s a story there!

This is NOT a Disney-ride.  When they yell “arms in”, it’s not for dramatic-effect, it’s for limb-safety and appendage-inventory.  And “duck” means put your head between your knees.

Did I mention it’s great!

My younger daughter was born with a great, natural riding seat.  She also was born with (and has since honed) great reflexes.  In our life, this is a good thing.

We had a blast.  Then as a group gallops past, they tell us that one of our Masters is down (we have three Joint Masters)…………………….we are not just Mr. Toad’s-Wild-Ride……………………..we’re the post-equine-departure transport too.

When we get there, our Master is looking wobbly.  Not a good sign.  He is an incredibly seasoned Hunter with a really good mount.  Apparently, he was at the unsuspecting end of a domino-effect/swirl & smash——where one horse starts it by smashing into another horse, which smashes into another and so on…………………and it all started with a refusal at a muddy, boggy stream.

***(Green Hunt Horses——-not a color——-an experience-level.)***

(My draft mares see a mud puddle where shorter horses see a lake——-it’s all a matter of perspective, isn’t it?)-(actually, one of my past Clydesdale Hunt horses/Christina–now in horsey-heaven–got the nick-name of “Princess Pony Butt” because she wouldn’t willingly let her dinner-platter-sized hooves or her gorgeous feathers get wet or muddy.  She had to be convinced with riding crops and Louisville Sluggers that this would happen……………….she ended up, ultimately being a great swimmer.)  Come to think of it, when Christina would be swimming, it would have to be a really, really deep lake.  Because when the the bottoms of my boots in my stirrups would reach the surface of the water, other horses would already be swimming……………….another perk of a tall horse.

But back at the Hunt~~~~~~~~~~Our Master’s horse didn’t need catching.  He felt bad and just waited there.  But, we did need to take our Master back in the Polaris, while someone ponied in his gelding.

AND that’s where I got to sit up on top………………I mean, we had to make room for the Master now didn’t we?…………………So I couldn’t actually sit in the death seat, but I got to sit right under it!!!

What a great perspective & view!

Forget calling out “Shot Gun” for dibs on the front seat.  I’ll be calling out “Death Seat”!                  Yep, all the hallmarks of an adrenaline-junkie, huh?

But, back to our Master.

Post-ER.  He broke his collar-bone (again), his shoulder wasn’t re-dislocated (this time), but there was a separation at the A/C joint (again).  He’s a tough dude.  He was entitled to look wobbly.

During the post-Hunt Tea, Simone & I were talking about my harnessing up my girls (the mares not my brassiere) and bringing out one of my buggies.  Our re-shoulder-injured Master won’t be allowed in the saddle for a little bit, and my buggy “might” be less jostling than the Polaris (but we have established that I am an equine-adrenaline-junkie)-(Have Buggy Whip~~~Will Travel!).

So you can probably visualize what speeds and how many wheels will be actually touching the ground while cornering out in the Hunt field in my purple buggy (and yes, it is purple—I asked for purple).  Hang on Masters!!!

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(P.S.—–At the Tea I learned & discovered “cake/pies”!!!          Who knew!!!  I now know how to make them!!!  Wow!  Cake-Pies!!!?!!!  Double-Barreled Fun!!!)

(P.P.S.—–I forgot to mention, Simone also made a German Chocolate cake from scratch for our Honorary Huntsman’s Birthday.  Delicious.  Her young son told us she was twenty-one……………..again.)

~~~~~~~~~~~Did I mention that I love this Club!?!~~~~~~~~~~~