(Remember, a clic on a pic makes it big.)
Off pre dawn for a Saturday morning's cub hunting. A brilliant and lovely guest accompanied me, and the pictures are hers- your dufus correspondent left his camera at home.
Meet was pretty well attended, forty or more riders plus staff. A warmish day, threatening rain off and on.
Cell telephone camera takes a pretty good photo!
Hounds drew and struck pretty quickly, then ran exactly where I predicted. For a quarter of a mile!
Yes, I've peaked for the season.
Then it was draw, draw, draw for a while.
Then they struck! As might be expected we were thrown out, I sped right round the country to where I thought they might come out. Wait, wait, wait.
Of course my besetting sin is wanting to move, and we did.
Of course, hounds ran right through the spot we'd just left...
So again with the slinging gravel, and we found ourselves this time at exactly the right spot, watching a lovely grey coyote run down a field and across a stream.
Hounds came along thirty seconds later, in a loooong line but close, no more than a yard separating any hound.
Well eighteen couple did. Wait a twelve count, and the next packet, two and a half couple, came on too.
Our Huntsman dashed up, ragged from a run through the boises d'arc.
We gave him the scoop, and he said, "Oh, that second group must be those hounds from the OFH!!
Another dash around, we saw the tail enders recross the road.
Then a gather up, 22 miles by a whipper in's GPS. Them dawgs wuz tard.
Never too tired to jump for a biscuit though!
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