It was a dreary day, and wet, so there isn’t much to say, which made me think of days gone by. March was always a difficult month for fox hunting, with the weather changing, and the ground soft. Thirty-three years ago this weekend, we went to a joint meet with the Shawnee Hounds in southern Illinois. It was a big event, with six hunt clubs represented, and the Bridlespur Hounds were the pack chosen for sport.
I was extremely stressed by this occasion, but it made for some wonderful memories.
I have been very lucky in many ways. Wonderful horses have crossed my path and carried me along. One of those was Casey Jones, who had been a show jumper, but who found his niche later in his life as my field hunter. He was a perfect huntsman’s horse and a stunning buckskin and white pinto. I took him, and Harry rode Willi, his great horse. I only have three, not very good, pictures from that March day, but many memories.
Here I am on Casey with the hounds, ready for a day of hunting. It was sunny and warming. The weather here today would have been more appropriate.
We have never ridden in mud like that black Illinois soil. It was shocking, but we were game for whatever the group wanted to do. Of course, when hunting in a new country, one must rely on a member of the home hunt to guide you. Larry Havens was the Shawnee M.F.H. and a delightful host. As we drew the third covert of the day, he assured us that there was a “natural barrier” to the southeast, no need to be concerned if hounds ran that direction. Of course, they struck and went screaming toward the trees with the “river” beyond. We galloped after the pack, through the muck. Here is Casey doing what he loved, galloping across the country.
The “natural barrier” turned out to be a barrier indeed – for riders and horses. It was a straight sided, deep, black water creek that we could not cross. Unfortunately, the coyote and the hounds were on the other side and tearing away, and all we could do was watch them go.
It was a disaster as a huntsman, but the beautiful weather and the countryside kept most of the field from complaining. We rode around for a hour or so, calling and collecting hounds. Here I am on Casey, muddy to his belly, with Larry Havens, at the end of the hunt, with about half the pack, which was all we could call in.
When we got back to the Shawnee kennel, a phone call came in from home (this was before cell phones, of course). It turned out that town was not very far beyond the “natural barrier”. It being a beautiful March day, stores at the little strip mall on the edge of town had opened their doors, and several tired foxhounds wandered in to visit. The local animal control officer had picked up a load of hounds with the Bridlespur kennels phone number on their collars, so they called Missouri, and Tina, who was looking after things at home, called us. We had to stay an extra day to bail hounds out of jail. In the end, when we loaded up for return, hounds were all on, and I’m sure in the hound trailer there were some wild tales told as we returned west. We knew that someday the disaster would become a treasured hunting story, but it did take a while!
Back to today, here are some birds…
Cardinals, finches, and a chickadee 
A wet house finch 
Goldfinches get more gold every day 
Finches at the feeder 
A flicker on the suet with a woodpecker waiting for a chance
Harry fixed delicious cream of wild rice soup, and Jane joined us in a perfect lunch for cold, damp weather.
Stay safe, stay well, laugh at old memories. Peace.
Anne, you are such a good story teller. I loved the words about southern Illinois and the hunt…and the tales of hounds wandering into little stores. Much charm. Thank you.
What a great “adventure!” Love the “spring green” sweater, Harry. Don’t forget to wear it on Wednesday. ☘️
I remember that you hunted Casey Jones the day after you married and that Harry and Willi won the Hunt Race at the Inaugural St Louis County Steeplechase. I love your story about the Shawnee Joint meet. Hounds “Gone Shopping” !!!
I love the hunt story too! Casey Jones sounds like a dream horse. And the hounds, oh the worry must have been awful, and then the call, what relief! The hounds went shopping and to jail! And you brought them all home, remarkable!
Nothing worse for a huntsman than watching hounds from the wrong side of an impassible barrier. All’s well that ends well, though, and I loved the hound jail image.
What a pretty horse Casey was and you look like riding him at a gallop was easy. The photos and words make me feel like I was there. I held my breath until the hounds were returned.