Pony Field meets coyote / Gretchen Pelham photo
I was standing on the line with my helmet off, pointing into the woods after the coyote. The lead hound, Ariat (a black and tan Penn-Marydel), came up the little rise and opened when she hit the line true. The rest of the pack was with her and off they went. Only a few seconds later, huntsman Ryan Johnsey flew past us over the coop next to our gate.
I was leading what I dubbed the Pony Field at our cub hunt at Tennessee Valley Hunt’s Big Valley fixture. I had only two other members in my field, but all three of us were on ponies. One of the girls was a junior, and the other had turned eighteen only a few months earlier.
I decided to stay out of the woods and follow the lake’s edge since the coyote had been circling around the whole day. My junior asked, “Is the coyote circling because this is his home territory? Because if he was just passing through then he would have run straight out of country, right?” Wow. The girls have been listening to me jabber on about hunting!
There were about five riders in the main field, and I was following as I could but taking alternative routes when necessary. One of the ponies in my field was an old, retired field hunter. In her prime the Old Girl taught many a junior rider how to follow hounds, but age has taken its toll on her legs.
Our plan was to stay away from any mud that might pull on the Old Girl’s legs, any ditch that might tempt her to jump, and any steep grades that would cause her to strain those fragile legs. I had prepared for mostly hacking about; I had no idea that my Pony Field would rock this hunt!
Upon leaving the meet, Ryan had put hounds into the cornfield in the bottom land of Big Valley. Hounds hunted there for a good thirty to forty-five minutes before they hit. When they did, the coyote left the corn after circling a bit and went up into the hills of Big Valley. The only way out of the corn was either through an old farm gate or over Lick Creek.
There are a few crossings of that creek, and none of them are easy. The water in Lick Creek can get deep and fast. The closest crossing to where we were was the worst one: deep, with muddy banks on each side dropping off into the water. I didn’t want the Old Girl’s legs anywhere near that, so we turned away from the field to go through the farm gate.
After the gate we walked up a short hill to the top of the ridge. I snuck in an easy canter on top for fun. Just before we turned the last curve, we heard my other Joint-Master, Grosvenor Merle-Smith, give out the Rebel Yell from his electric Polaris. We had just missed the first view of the coyote!
We stopped and a minute later the pack came up the ridge in front of us in full cry. Then Ryan blasted up and went into the woods to follow down the “Scary Trail” that is a ski-slope to the bottom. The field followed down the trail.
Well, I wasn’t about to take the Old Girl down that trail, so we moseyed back the way we came, stopping to listen to the hounds every now and then. We never lost the sound of the pack; they were going in the same direction as we were.
We could tell they were in the covert down the in the valley by the lake when we heard my other Joint-Master, Rosie Merle-Smith (the only whipper-in that day), give her Rebel Yell. Another view! The hounds had crossed the farm road in front of us and went up into the section of Big Valley with the biggest hills that is a cattle pasture bald of cover.
I got the ponies down the ridge at a blistering walk, and we got on the farm road. After skirting the lake’s edge to get to a gate that would take us into the woods, we stopped to listen again. We saw the field on the other side of the gate in the woods, and they chose to turn around and go back into the covert. We stayed where we were to listen, and sure enough, the pack was heading our way!
The coyote had his head turned, trying to gauge how far behind him the pack was. / Gretchen Pelham photo
Back over the bigger hills and over the farm road in front of us came the coyote. He came around the lake in the same spot we did, and at first was not looking at us as he had his head turned around trying to see how far behind the pack was. The pack was roaring in full cry but still out of sight. Then coyote then spied us but didn’t slow down. He ran right in front of us and ducked into the woods just down from the gate where we were standing.
After Ariat recovered the line I was standing on and Ryan flew past us over the coop, the coyote circled back not to the lake but to the corn again. So we left the lake and went down the farm road to the corn. The run had gone on for over two hours at this point, and it was getting very hot.
We caught up with Ryan, who was calling in hounds. I pointed out some of the hounds that I knew by name to the girls. As we hacked back to the trailers, my Pony Field picked up three-and-a-half couple of hounds that followed us back. I had the girls keep counting the hounds trailing behind us to be sure we didn’t lose any along the way, and we trotted them back to the hound trailer.
My little Pony Field had a memorable view, saw some awesome hound work up close, heard roaring hound music, thrilled at several Rebel Yells, and practiced bringing in and counting hounds. We had a blast! Ponies, even old ones, rock!
Posted October 23, 2013
Ponies rock! / Gretchen Pelham photo