Lately life has brought me to Tennessee; the land of Dollywood, Pigeon Forge and men with bad pickup lines. But also, it has unfolded as a world of Fox hunting. Me and my crazy roommate work for TVH - walking hounds with the kennel huntsmen and riding loads of horses and jumping coops and learning to whip-in. Thus, life is good. Also, the 'ickey fatty' horse [one i previously posted pictures of] is at our barn fox hunting 1st flight with us! He is only six years old and born on the buckle, trots to the base of the jumps and stands well with the group at check points. And he can be yours! Yes, he is for sale.
So here is a tale from the newest TVH Honorary Whipper-in:
It was a bright, cold day and we were out hunting on the Knob's farm. Finally we emerged from the knee-knocker woods, a few bruises later, and came to an open field. YES, I thought to myself. But then the hounds race off into the distance, through a fence-line with snouts down and in full cry. Kick ON! Away we galloped, over a hill and down the other side...which was slipperier than expected. And my borrowed ex-prelim eventer mare begins to buck. Downhill. Buck. Canter. Buck. Canter. Bouncing me back and forth, I look up to see a coop. Crap. Well we bounced down the hill, popped over the coop and made it [to my own relief]. On the other side she threw her head to the ground and began to squeal like a piglet being squeezed. And she bucked all the way up the next hill. At that moment, my roommate looks over at me and laughs. Whoops. Guess we forgot her Regumate today.
I have not forgotten it since then.