June 26, 2012
A Visitor’s View
It was an unrivalled invitation: to spend two months hunting in the United States with Anne McIntosh, MFH of the Blue Ridge Hunt (VA). As a hunting-mad Brit who’d grown up with the West Country packs of my native Somerset, I was intrigued to learn about the tradition of the sport on the other side of the pond.
Coming over to help with Anne’s horses, I took particular interest in the type and manners of what I would usually call hunters, soon learning they were called field hunters stateside. What struck me was their condition. A sunny American summer was as evident in the bloom on these horses’ coats as in the suntans on their riders! The fact that the majority of these horses also live out throughout the hunting season (which would be impossible with our muddy British winters) I think contributed to their impeccable manners and relaxed temperaments.
Fuss, Fuss
I’ve been grousing about four long rows of round hay bales left in my field. The guys that make the hay usually take the bales right off. But it’s been two weeks, and they’re still sitting there. Now, I’m going to have four long stretches of dead grass. Fuss, fuss.
This morning I took my dog Mara out for a walk as usual, and, glancing over to where the round bales were still sitting, it seemed there was something lying on top of one. Too big for one of the cats and not the right color. I recalled that foxes love to perch on top of round bales. Every warrior seeks the high ground. I stopped, hoping it was what I thought, and sure enough an alert head and two enormous ears fixed me in their sights.
