When Bay Cockburn was huntsman of the Loudoun West Hunt (VA), he would allow the author to bring the bitches home to whelp in a quiet place during the point-to-point season when he was busy racing. “It was so much fun,” says Wendell.
Beneath the cone of heat lamp light,
in the time it takes to break
a sack, wipe clear a face, and head-down shake
all wet away, I urge this not-yet-
breathing-thing: Come in,
