Regional Horse Sport News
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Dressage at Waterloo 
Spring Classic I & II - June 4-5 / 6
  
                 Dressage at Waterloo June - June 18-20                                                                   

Dressage at Waterloo 
July Performance - July 16-18  Dressage at Waterloo July DSHB - July 19

Dressage at Waterloo 
August I & II - August 11-13 / 14-15  

Dressage at Waterloo Summer Finale - August 27-29

Waterloo Hunt has been out hunting every Wednesday and Saturday this cold winter, chasing fox and coyote until they go to ground. It's been cold but great fun. Here the field of horses is waiting in the background and the camera is near the Whip who acts as a scout. The Whip can see the Field Master and also might have a good view of the hounds and the Huntsman who are looking for signs of fox. Visit the website Waterloo Hunt Club for foxhunting news and details on summer shows - and the Hunter Trias in April!

Foxhunting Fall 2009 begins all over the U.S.A. :)

Waterloo Hunt Club Gymkhana, June 2008

Foxhunters turn out their hunt horses to rest during the summer. Now club members' thoughts turn to shows of dressage and hunter/jumper; to Gymkhanas; to trail riding - trail clearing, too - and summer bonfires. bIt's time to teach the new hounds old tricks and to bring along some green horses.

Waterloo Hunt Club Hunter Trials

Saturday, April 18, 2009 at 9:30
Friday schooling starts at 2:00

Ireland's Ward Union wins right to hunt stags in High Court decision

Charlotte White, H&H deputy news editor 19 February, 2008 Chairman of the Hunting Association of Ireland Gavin Duffy said: "The Ward Union could go out hunting this afternoon. It is an unexpected victory for us as we had thought we would have to wait to get the terms of last year's licence reinstated. "This allows the Ward Union to hunt for the last three weeks of the season.

Speaking after today's High Court decison Ward Union Chairman Oliver Russell said: "We now await the direction of the court, but in granting the injunction the current licence is suspended so we now understand we operate under the previous licence which grants us permission to hunt deer in the traditional manner.

"We are losing a minimum of €4,000 per week because of this unworkable license and remember we need funds to maintain our conservation programme of Irish Red Deer. full story in Horse and Hound

Tony Wright cleared of illegal hunting on appeal

The first huntsman prosecuted under the Hunting Act in England has today had his conviction overturned on appeal on Nov. 30, 2007 (reported 12/5/07 Horse and Hound). Tony Wright, huntsman of the Exmoor Foxhounds, appeared in Exeter Crown Court at 2pm, where the judgment was delivered by Judge Cottle. The case hinged on an exemption under the Act that allows two hounds to flush foxes to be shot, which Tony Wright has always maintained he was doing on 29 February 2005."We're delighted that justice has finally been done," said Stephen Lambert, chairman of the Masters of Foxhounds Association. more

Pigeon River restrictions on riding - input is still possible for horse riding. Waterloo Hunt representatives report on 11/13/2007 that the "DNR wishes to restrict snowmobilers, mountain bikers and horsemen to specific areas of the Pigeon River Country, notably barring all three from cross country (“small trail”) riding. MORE Marcia Boynton and Jan Herrick are working up a response to issues raised. Watch this page for how you can influence riding region access.

Join the Waterloo Hunt Pace Sunday September 23, 2007 What's that? A "Hunt Pace" is a competitive event approximating the conditions of the hunt field and tests the rider's judgment of a "hunting pace" over fair hunt country. Riders follow a trail marked with white "ribbons" through the beautiful countryside. Riders may jump or not jump at their preference. Waterloo Hunt Clubhouse, Glenn & Katz Roads, Grass Lake, Mi. You can ride in an English saddle or a western saddle. For details Waterloo Hunt's Pace

Metamora Hunt - Metamora, like Waterloo and Battle Creek Hunts, spends many summer mornings roading hounds. That means the Huntsman takes out new hounds coupled by a collar to old hounds, and teaches them about the country, about the hunting rules for hounds - which are many! - and helps members teach horses new to hunting about the challenges of the hunt country.

Metamora roads hounds Tuesdays and Thursdays. You can contact a Joint Master about coming out with your horse and introducing your horse - and maybe you, too - to hunting. Debbie Pace, longtime Whip at Metamora, says, " the goal is to teach the youngsters and to establish a level of fitness of hounds."

Call One of the Joint Masters for a schedule and permission to accompany staff and hounds out on summer exercises: Joe Kent - 248-628-2065; Phil Maxwell - 248 - 969-1545; or Honorary Secretary Joe Maday - 248-628-7203. Metamora Hunt is east of Telegraph, just south of M-59. Website: www.metamorahunt.com

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April 2007
Leelanau Horse Rescue steps up to care for Grass Lake farm rescue animals. Waterloo Hunt Club and Grass Lake 4-H are handling the community efforts to raise funds to care for the 69 neglected horses seized 2 weeks ago by Jackson County Animal Control from a Grass Lake farm.
Letter from Waterloo Hunt member Marcia Boyton about the integrity of the rescue group Leelanau Horse Rescue. Sounds like you could donate without a worry!

Hello, all.

I cannot resist saying that I know some of the folks at
Leelanau Horse rescue -- this is the county where my summer
rental homes are located and where I have some horsey
friends. You may donate in the assurance this is a credible
operation, your money will buy hay, not tickets to the
Bahamas.

About 3 years ago LHRO organized itself spontaneously to
respond to a another large group of horses who were being
very badly cared for up there. It's comprised of
recreational horse owners, sherriff posse guys, vets, feed
dealers, humane society folks and -- fortunately -- the
team includes some very significant animal welfare donors
and horse owners who summer in Leland. The abused horses
were deployed all over the county for recovery and care;
and kept by these private owners til they could be placed
for adoption or readied for sale. 

The owner was prosecuted -- and when, of course, he was
convicted but could not hope to reimburse the county for
the care of the horses or the cost of prosecution -- there
was a hue and cry over whether we should be spending public
money on protecting livestock from abuse, when there are
"real problems out there."  Of course, the folks holding
the horses were stuck with them and incurred the costs of
care until title was resolved and the horses could be
dispersed.

Nevertheless, there were some real success stories from the
Leelanau rescue -- and I imagine they feel that they know
what they are getting into.

Marcia Boynton
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March 2007

Hunt Pace News

EHV update 3-12
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February 2007

MFHA recommends cancelling hunting in Va. and Md. due to EHV1 outbreak
From Ltc. Dennis Foster, Executive Director, MFHA to VA and MD hunts::

" Due to the recent cases of Neurological Equine Herpes Virus-1 (EHV-1) in Northern Virginia, Virginia State Veterinarian Richard L. Wilkes, D.V.M. has recommended there be no co-mingling of horses until this situation is under control.  In a letter dated Friday, February 23, 2007, he requests, "Evidence indicates that the hunts ... create a significant risk of exposure to EHV-1 for the horses that participate... and may jeopardize efforts to contain this outbreak.   I, therefore, find it necessary to require that you cancel these scheduled events and will take whatever action necessary within my authority to force this cancellation.”   

Virginia State Veterinarian Quarantining Farms
lhttp://www.vdacs.virginia.gov/news/releases-b/022107equine.shtml

Quarantined Sites:http://www.vdacs.virginia.gov/news/releases-b/022307ehv-quarantine.shtml

Dr. Wilkes encourages activity planners to consider upcoming events in Northern Virginia carefully and to postpone all non-essential ones to minimize the occasions where horses co-mingle. The mixing and mingling of horses has the potential to compromise bio-security as they move from area to area. The VDACS Web site has bio-security information at http://www.vdacs.virginia.gov/animals/pdf/ehv-infosheet.pdf and the University of Florida site has bio-security guidelines at http://brevard.ifas.ufl.edu/Agriculture/PDF/Equine%20 Herpesvirus%20UF%20Web%20Biosecurity.pdf.

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January 2007

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A New Country for Waterloo Hunt  Montana Foxhunting
by Ms. Charity Steere,
Waterloo Hunt Club Member

In late August 2000, Waterloo Hunt of Grass Lake, Michigan made a foray to their newly registered hunt country near St. Xavier, Montana.  They were privileged to hunt the 40,000-acre CH Land and Cattle Company ranch for four meets in an early cub-hunting season.  This is a report of their first visit, written by Charity Steere.

Early this spring long-time Waterloo Hunt member Patti Harris arrived at the idea of combining two of her lifelong passions, cattle ranching and foxhunting.  This was a big idea, but one definitely worthy of attention. So an exploratory trip by joint-master Sally Stommen and huntsman Joe Cook was launched.  From that trip the three came up with a plan they thought would fly.  Man, did it!

This trip represented a huge leap of faith on the part of Joe, Sally and Patti.  Our home country is thickly wooded, very grown up to brush and increasingly to houses, with only a few rare open fields. Patti’s ranch, on the other hand, is 40,000 acres of open rangeland, huge hills capped by rim rock, punctuated by steep brushy gullies and creek beds.  Joe has developed very tight hound control to hunt the Waterloo country where often he can neither hear nor see hounds or fox.  They knew Joe could control hounds, but had no idea how the pack would adapt to the open country once they got rolling on coyote, which they have hunted only incidentally in the past.  All the same, the intrepid trio decided to give it a whirl.

Cook, one assistant and 6 couple of bitches left Grass Lake, MI in a pick-up truck on Monday August 13, headed for Patti’s CH Land and Cattle Company in St. Xavier, MT.  The pick-up cap was cleverly rigged to provide the hounds with air-conditioned comfort against the 90-degree plus heat.  Bill Steere, riding shotgun, had made several similar trips with bird-dogs so rest stops were mapped out ahead.  A few surprised west-bound tourists were treated to a hound show pack class at the stops, the men sacked out a couple hours on a flatbed truck at a construction site and 28 hours later the hounds alighted from their coach, as Patti said, “ears up, tails up, looking like queens.”  The rest of us—10 in number, traveled more prosaically by plane to Billings on Wednesday.

Patti and Bill met us at the airport and half the group headed out to pick up the RVS, the rest made a raid on the local supermarket.  When we checked out of the market the clerk said it was the largest single order they’d ever bagged, “by far”.  But 13 hungry foxhunters, 3 meals a day, plus snacks, for a week is a lot of groceries!  Nearly too many to fit into two 29’ RVs with the mountains of luggage.  Luggage we had found difficult to explain to ticket agents who didn’t understand “saddle” when we got it on the plane in the first place.

Gas, liquid refreshment and rental cars procured, an interminable wait for take-away pizza and we were on our way.  An hour and a half through huge, spectacular open MT ranchland, a quick change of clothes and we were at the barn to get matched up and acquainted with the horses we’d ride for the next five days.  The horses were accumulated by former champion calf-roper Lyle Baughman, conveniently the son of Patti’s ranch manager.  The horses were working cattle horses, some with experience in the Custer battlefield re-enactment (real movie-stars!), one of them Lyles’s roping horse, all with USEFUL stamped all over them, none with any experience of anything like fox-hunting! Nor English tack.  Before long we were tack-adjusted, mounted and re-united with our well-traveled hounds.   The horse I drew was black and alarmingly had SIN branded on his backside, at least he was small enough for me to mount from the ground easily, and hopefully not too often!

Off we went through the sagebrush, over the rim rock and into the sunset on an exploratory jaunt to stretch everyone’s legs.  All the people were twitching with excitement, but hounds and horses seemed completely at ease.  Even when a brassy coyote barked at us repeatedly and actually followed for a quarter mile or so our little bitch pack was business as usual—just out for hound exercise.  But this coyote certainly galvanized the human contingent for the next morning’s hunting!

Due to the extreme heat and drought conditions, the meet was set for 6:00A.M.  Excitement made it easier to roust out for that hour, but it was actually somewhat later when Cook made his first cast.  Since fox had been seen fairly consistently along the ranch drive, that was the first draw.  A steep, brush-covered hillside, fairly open on top dropping to hayfields, driveway and creek at the bottom, provided a defined patrol area for whips unfamiliar with the country.  With visibility outside covert of miles and inside covert of zero and such a small field, Master Stommen gave us all leave to take our own line across country.  Part of the group went to the top with ranch guide Mike Hoyle and whipper-in Jeff Stommen while the rest of us stayed down with Master, huntsman and Patti, as guide.  Hounds drew the huge covert beautifully and could be seen from both uphill and down as they worked through the gaps in the brush.  A slow draw of a mile and a half to the ranch house yielded nothing and the heat was rising fast.  The coyote from the night before was plan B, so hounds were lifted and roaded about ¼ mile to the “stock pens” behind the horse barn.  Hounds were cast along a wooded ravine where two deer bounced out and we were treated to the gratifying sight of two of our hounds absolutely flattening themselves on the ground when they crossed the scent and all but one of the rest fleeing back to Joe as if to say “not me, Dad!”  The lone miscreant, a second year entry, changed her mind immediately and made a great show of innocence as she sloped back into compliance.  Very shortly later, hounds hit the line of a coyote, confirmed by the thrill of music from the older hounds, honored instantly by the rest of the pack.  Unfortunately, the adrenalin rush this occasioned in the field was shared by the ranch horses, which were turned out in this field.  They boiled up from behind a ridge directly in front of hounds and effectively whipped hounds off their line.  Re-cast, but accompanied by the loose horses, hounds weren’t able to regain their line.  By this time temperatures were headed toward 90 with zero humidity, and casts into several more likely looking washes drew blank.  So a blank day, but our enthusiasm for the huge, beautiful gold and green landscape was increasing and hounds were clearly becoming acclimated to the altitude and conditions. In fact, our enthusiasm was sufficient to entice Bob Chesney, suffering badly from altitude and the effects of a past fall, to commit to riding the next day!  Which he did in spite of his discomfort, and enjoyed himself!
A marvelous, welcome, ranch breakfast was provided by our ever-gracious Patti and ranch cook, Colleen Hoyle.  Colleen had also prepared dinner for us the night before complete with homemade apple pie, but from here on out we were on our own in Patti’s kitchen—brave woman!

Day 2.  Again 6:00 A.M., but this time we were prompt.  Cook started out for coyote and cast hounds west, into a stiff breeze, drawing along a creek.  Scent seemed to be lying about midway between the brushy bottom and the top of an open hill about 1/3 mile high right out on open ground.  Our girls trailed along this line for better than a mile before they even began to feather, but Waterloo Terry persistently worked it forward with the rest braiding the line stronger until finally they were able to open, tuning their choir until they finally sang with the full-throated cry that makes a fox-hunter’s heart leap.  The field was privileged to watch this tidy hound work from the bottom of the hill, but when hounds went straight up the slope we thought for sure we would be out of luck with only Joe and whipper-in Russ Passmore with hounds.  When hounds reached the top they hit the wind directly in their faces with solid rock on the ground.  At a loss, a quick self-cast left, then right put them back on the line and straight through the first fence we’d encountered all morning! With not a single jumper among the horses and no appetite for four-strand barbed wire anyway, our luck held—we were right at one of the rare gates and Mike already had it open. This was our first taste of galloping across such vast country without a thought to footing or fences; to keep in contact with a screaming pack was the only item of thought.  Glorious!  This is also where I discovered that “SIN” was safe as a barn, oh happy day! A mile and a half later hounds lost in a creek bottom and though they recast well, they were unable to retrieve the line. At the check no one could believe we’d had such a hot go without a view, but it was obvious that our girls were getting the drift of how this country and these coyotes worked!  By now the sun was blazing out of a pure blue sky and the wind was blowing hard. With heat rising it seemed prudent to cast hounds back toward kennels.  Hounds were sent into yet another creek-bed and though we were treated to some lovely hound work, they were unable to follow scent wherever their quarry had left wetter ground.  They’d open strong in the bottom, then struggle for scent on the drier uplands, but this carried us back to home base with plenty of hound work to keep us entertained.

Day 3.  The morning air was finally cooler and still.  The first cast was planned to head down Muddy Creek.  Patti warned us not to cross except at the culverts—about two miles apart.  Hounds leaped into the first cast, obviously enjoying themselves and the cool.  Twenty minutes later a coyote was viewed on the far bank, but hounds were definitely working a line on our side.   Cook left them to it and his patience was rewarded as moments later Waterloo Rose opened, honored beautifully by her pack mates, and sure enough, down across the uncrossable creek they went.  A brief check was accompanied by the sound of a coyote barking insistently from high on the opposite hill, but hounds paid him no mind, puzzled out their line and lit out downstream, all hounds on, owning the line of the first coyote.  Fortunately we were able to run parallel to them on our side although covering a lot more miles to negotiate the feeder washes that crossed our path.  By this time the cow horses were getting the gist of things, following hounds by ear and keeping up the pace, which let us attend to hounds.  A short check when hounds crossed to our side of the creek let us catch up before they were away again, this time straight up-slope and over the top of the drainage.  I won’t say over the hill, as a ¾ mile steep uphill gallop to a two-mile plateau striped with whoop-de-do gullies and then down a ¾ mile slope to the next creek is more than “a hill”!  A check on the top of the plateau reminded us why hounds need a huntsman.  Joe let hounds work the upslope 180 degrees of a huge circle on their own. When they were still at a loss, he whistled, all heads came up like gophers out of holes, he pointed his horse downslope and down and around went the hounds, scribing the perfect second half of the circle, still no coyote!  Another whistle and he sent them upslope to do the first half again.  This time Waterloo Taylor went a little wider and opened with one tentative yip, she was honored, but with no result as excitement carried them on around the circle, all except Rose who was working furiously straight up hill.  Joe held hounds up until at last Rose opened and away we went, across the plateau and down to the next coulee, a point of about four miles with just enough checks to allow the field to keep in touch with hounds.  At this point the hill toppers (equipped with binoculars), who had ridden the ridgeline to stay with us, informed us of how well our little pack had really hunted.  Three coyotes had actually exited the first covert and hounds had never strayed from their original pilot, nor had they split at any point.  Smug us!

Taking hounds to water brought us in sight of some cattle on the wrong side of their fence, so we had the delightful experience of watching a real round up.  Quite a parade—cows, cowboys, huntsman and foxhounds tootling along behind as if they did this sort of thing every day.  Our cow horse mounts also switched gears from budding foxhunters to business and shuffled along as if we had the whole Bozeman trail ahead of us—which in fact, we did.  It crosses Patti’s ranch. 

Cows restored to order, we hunted back toward home, drawing the flip side of everything we’d run through on the way out.  Hounds worked busily to no avail.  We were hoping to pick up one of the other coyotes that had left covert on our first blow through.  Sure enough someone heard a yip and then Sally and the hill toppers viewed, but again, on the opposite side of the creek!  We were all a little afraid for the cardiac health of our hill toppers.  Since Bill Steere hadn’t been on a horse in at least fifteen years and Matt Laux had NEVER hunted before, being forty yards from our potential quarry caused them enough excitement to endanger.  By now Cook was getting comfortable with these obliging runners.  He gathered hounds and quietly jogged them a mile to the creek crossing,  where he let them drink (hill toppers are now an apoplectic purple in color), jogged part way up the opposite slope toward Mr. Coyote’s rocky perch and then cast hounds in a sort of cavalry charge totally unanticipated by coyote!  Wiley hesitated briefly before he ran off, looking over his shoulder and yipping at hounds.  Finally grasping the gravity of the situation he lit out for elsewhere.    When I came over the crest of the hill I truly thought that coyote might have miscalculated and let hounds get too close.  Coyote was going full out and close to the ground, hounds heads up, in full cry, about forty yards behind, easily covered by the traditional blanket with Joe running beside them on a good quarter horse, topped out.  Gone away never sounded better! 

This picture disappeared from view around the shoulder of a hill a mile or so ahead and when I rounded the hill, surprisingly, hounds had stopped.  It transpired that Joe had stopped them at a fence, asked Master Stommen if he should go on with tired, leased horses, and gotten the go ahead.  Hounds were sent on and they immediately resumed their election-bound speed.  Fortunately they continued to throw their tongues as we were now headed up another exhausting slope, this one wooded enough to obscure them from view.  Clever little black horse now knew what he was following and saved us ½ mile by cutting a corner to stay with hounds.  Horses were really tiring as we went down into, across and up the other side of yet another precipitous dry wash.  Cook’s patient hound schooling paid off, as he was able to stop hounds again, this time for good.  This was about a three-mile point and I was appreciating my sinful horse’s energy conservation policy.  He wasn’t fast, but if our government followed his strategy there would never be another brownout.  We weren’t first, but we were in at the end!  Felicitously we were now only a short hack from kennels and water.  This was enough good hunting that Jeff could make an early  return to MI and to work without feeling too sorry for himself and to keep Julie Passmore from going home early to see her sorely missed baby, Casey. 

Day 4 dawned hot and still.  Only 5 couple of hounds answered the call, as two were footsore from the cactus spines.  The air had a dead quality to it that did not bode well for scenting and sure enough a cast along Muddy Creek yielded nothing.  Cook put hounds into several of the brushy side gulches and after an hour’s good work a coyote was viewed going away over the top.  A four mile point over huge galloping country had the field thoroughly spread out, but the distances we could see and hear kept us in touch with hounds running tight as a nut, and astonishingly still giving cry.  It was a surprise that their voices held out so well, as ours were about gone from the dry air and excitement.  This coyote ran far enough to get off Patti’s 40,000 acres and onto the next ranch!  When Cook and Stommen arrived at the line fence they were the only ones still with hounds so they split up, each taking one side of the fence so that someone would be with hounds no matter which way they went.  Stommen won the gamble.  By this time Joe was nearly a mile from a gate and frantic to get to hounds.  Two field members coming behind had also gotten lucky and were on the right side of the fence.  A rider swap was made through the fence and Joe took Arlene Taylor’s horse.  However the other field member (an embarrassed me) was so intent on getting to hounds that I left poor Arlene standing on the opposite side of the fence from Joe’s horse!  She was a little nonplussed, but she’s a bright girl and the horse was ready to stand so it sorted out all right.  She crawled through the fence, but was left to watch huntsman and faithless friend disappear into the distance.

Luck and good training saved us again as Sally had stopped hounds and was holding all five couple for Joe’s arrival.  We beat a hasty retreat back onto our own side of the fence, met up with the straggling field and with tired horses trekked back to kennels, bubbling with excitement and concocting elaborate schemes to get Patti to invite us back.

Since we were hunting so early in the morning there was plenty of time for other amusements in the afternoons.  Fishing the Big Horn River, a trip to the Crow Fair (a Native-American extravaganza), and boating on the Yellowtail Reservoir featured large. Evenings were spent preparing and devouring decadent meals and telling stories, some of them true!

Our trip was capped off by a camper convoy to Patti’s ranch in the Beartooth Mountains of Wyoming, near Yellowstone Park.  Chuck French and Russ did yeoman service driving the RVs through the mountain passes, willingly foregoing their opportunity to gawk at the scenery.  We were all so stunned by the beauty of this place and so giddy with the excitement of the hunting we had experienced, that a ride into the mountains on our trusty “hunt-cow horses” and the most fantastic trout-fishing anyone had ever had, just seemed logically to follow the sequence of this dream.  Two quite up-close and personal grizzly bear sightings by the fishermen were deemed more exciting than threatening simply because we had achieved a dangerous sense of the inviolability of our good time! As usual, Joe maintained his good sense and carried a heavy side arm for evening hound exercise.  And I for once didn’t complain about the presence of guns!

Wednesday morning Joe and Bill loaded hounds before daylight and set out on the long drive home.  The rest of us went back to Billings airport and real life and late Thursday afternoon our trip was really over when hounds arrived safe back at kennels in Grass Lake.  Our gratitude to Patti for her astonishing hospitality really can’t be adequately expressed.  This was as close as any of us will ever come to the origins of fox-hunting in the distant past of England when they galloped across unfenced, unplowed fields and moors without restraint.  This was truly the opportunity of a lifetime and we were all thrilled to have been lucky enough to take advantage of it.

written by Guest Contributor Charity Steere, see Staff for bio

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Foxhunting on A Winter Michigan Morning

by Dr. Trish Gearhart, Waterloo Hunt Club member

I look out of my window on a January Wednesday at the drizzle making puddles on the snow outside. Not raining all that hard, I think and I pull my breeches out of my drawer. What layers to wear? I think as I look outside at the thermometer ---there isn’t much water dripping off it. Hmm, 34 degrees. Chilly, and just a little wet. I decide on silk and pull a set of long underwear out of another drawer. Let’s see ---a microfiber top with medium weight fleece over. Smartwool socks, then I pull on my boots and look outside again---is it raining? I grab my full length oil skin and head toward the car. There is a thick layer of fog settled over my house, and I drive out of it as I go up the hill in my driveway. Once on the road, I admit that I need to put my wipers on intermittent (it is raining just a little), then I keep turning the wipers up and am forced to admit that it is really raining. That’s what the coat is for, I guess.

I get out to the barn at the kennels and smile to myself as I always do to hear the hounds are going crazy while our Huntsman, Joe is choosing who will go out. Then I slip and almost land on my butt as I realize the entire drive is a layer of ice covered in water. Whoa---at least the rain has let up some, I think, and I get Gund out of his stall.

All tacked up and ready to go, I lead Gund across the drive to the mounting block and realize that, as he walks along and I hold the reins that I don’t have to move my feet at all---I am just sliding along. Now I am getting very concerned about the footing, but I’m here and tacked and there is a stirrup cup today---and it has stopped raining. I mount up and we carefully make our way to the clubhouse which is becoming shrouded in fog on a snow covered background. There are horses and riders milling around through the mist and I greet my friends, getting caught up on the life that has happened to each of us in the 3 days since we hunted together last. As we sip our sherry there is the usual discussion about what layers we are wearing, and second guessing as to whether we will be too warm or too cold. Soon Joe and the whips bring the hounds over the hill to join us in the mist. Our Field Masters Sally and Arlene make their announcements and we head out into the whiteness.

The footing, it turns out, is fine, but I am ok with riding at the back because I know that Gund is throwing huge chunks of snow-caked black mud up behind him. The hounds have found the scent and all are chiming in, their voices mysterious and eerie in the foggy whiteness. We gallop along the trail, trying to get to a point where the hounds may chase the quarry toward us and maybe get a view. Suddenly, Gund’s head comes up and he begins to gallop with his tail tucked and a hunch in his back—his ears are flipped backward. I look behind us and see nothing, then kick him forward. He is still bothered about something behind us. I look back again and this time I can just make out Joe, his scarlet coat materializing through the mist. For a second he appears to be floating as he raises his horn and then he gets close enough for me to see his light gray horse too. I turn and open my mouth to yell “Staff!”, but his horn does the job for me. Sally leads the field up a spur trail and we just make it out of the way for him to gallop past, his horse again barely visible between the trees in the fog.

We come to Wet Socks, and the creek is high with a thick ice rim at the edge. Sally’s horse doesn’t think it sensible to break through and she calls for someone with a big horse to break the ice. Ok, that would be me, so I prepare to ride hard to get Gund to go out in front, but he surprises me as he pricks his ears and charges forward, breaking through the ice in a grand style. I chuckle as we plunge through the water to the other bank where I find a whip on her horse who we couldn’t see before but was just the right motivation for Gund. As I wait for the rest of the field to cross and go ahead of me so I can take my place in line, I watch Grace on her little pony and wonder if they are swimming, the water is so high. Grace is balancing on her seat and her legs are in the air, trying to keep dry as the pony lunges through the water.

We have lost the sound of the hounds now and gallop on for a bit, then hold hard and listen. There it is! The hound voice that is so beautiful and so eerie on a day like today. And off we go to catch up with them. We never get to view, but the chase is merry and just as we get back to the barn and are rubbing down our steaming horses, we can hear the rain on the roof as it starts again in earnest. What a perfect time to go back to the clubhouse and sit by the fire in the company of friends.

Written by Guest Contributor Trish Gearhart see Staff for bio