Not my childhood hunt.

This isn't my childhood hunt, but it could've been.

There are few measures of time more poignant than repeating an occurence from your childhood as an adult. I hunted with the Fairfield County Hounds as a kid, or as they term it in hunting, a "junior". I usually was on Frostfire a.k.a. Frosty, Fella, @$#%&^$## JERK! (See "lucky girl" entry, 9/10/10). Epic battles for control, always lost by me ensued at each hunt. I can mostly recall freezing- hunting in Connecticut is not a warm endeavor, and trying to stay at the back of the field. Juniors ride in the back. Last. Frosty preferred to be at the front. First. But I went, and I took him, because he loved it. I could fake him out when I came into the barn late at night by baying like a hound as I flipped on the lights. He would charge forward in his stall, blinking madly, ears so alert they nearly touched. Then, the moment of recognition that it was only me, and he was in his stall, and the ears would go back, he'd give me a grumpy look and return to sleep.
When we hunted we were so far back in the field that the only time I got to see the hounds at work was during check (when you are standing quietly), and the hounds came back to where we were. Most all of the hunting went on in the woods, so large vistas weren't part of the natural feature of a Connecticut fall foxhunt.

Fast forward 30 years. I am the eighth in the field. All grown up now. They let me ride with the adults! We are in the woods, but I can see the Huntsman easily. She is casting the hounds out again and again, they work in circles around her and her mount, noses working madly. I love watching them work, and she calls them and trots off to cast somewhere else. A few hounds pick up their heads and look at her call on the horn, but you can see they are reluctant to leave their spot. Then with a leap over the nearest deadfall, off they go through the brush to join the pack. And we do have large open fields, wide vistas to watch the hounds work, with the Whippers-in posted around in the distance- there to keep hounds from straying. Vistas=opportune galloping moments, it seems.
It was Oslo's second hunt, and first time hunting in a fast field. I had about 1 1/2 horses too many underneath me today. He was wonderful in between moments of sheer energy and madness. I need more wonderful and less madness. We stuck with the field for wild dashes across fields and flying through the woods, moments of control were more than those without, but eventually the moments of no control wore us down. After one fine gallop( a no control moment) and the discovery that he's pretty solid, and fairly fast, managing just barely to not fly past the Field Master (a NONO),  we dropped down to third field to gain some perspective. Third field is the "walk-trot" group. Except today. We proceeded to have the fastest third field ride ever.

So, with shades of Frosty gripping my memory for epic battles over control,  we made it back to the trailer. As with Frosty, I will keep taking him, I think he had fun. I only hope he'll start taking it in stride, and that stride will be relaxed.