Hunt Report

When a Picture Isn’t Worth 1000 Words

Not much hunting for me lately (lame horse…booo), so I’ll share this memory with you.

One thing I really find annoying about my own generation is the impulse to photograph  everything without really experiencing it. It’s all about the dopamine hit from those Facebook or Instagram likes, projecting an ideal life. (And I have to say, anyone who is lucky enough to foxhunt definitely has at least one ideal part of their life.)

And I’m not immune from it either. In the hunt field, there are so many moments I wish I could share with others. Tweed coats among the trees, hounds porpoising in the soybeans, a breathless gallop up to the blinding morning sun. I still can’t really believe I’m allowed to do this on a regular basis, so it feels like I simultaneously need to drink in the moment and save it forever.

One moment like this happened out cubbing this fall. We were hacking in, waiting on a hillside for the huntsman to collect hounds. I was in the back of the field, so I saw the scene unfold before me. Riders in their tweeds leaning over to share a swig of something good, laughing and talking about the day. Horses, swishing their tails. By the pond at the foot of the hill were the huntsman and a whip, deep in conversation about something. Sugarloaf Mountain, not quite changing her leaves yet, peeked out on the horizon.

I started to cry and I can’t exactly explain why. From the beauty of it all? From gratitude? From fear that these moments are so fleeting?

But the pictures I snapped didn’t do it justice.

 

 

 

2 thoughts on “When a Picture Isn’t Worth 1000 Words”

  1. Oh there is something so special about foxhunting. The commraderie, the sounds, the smells, the gallops. It’s really hard to capture any of that on film. I rarely leave a foxhunt where I am not feeling something extraordinary, and it is really hard to express that feeling. Especially to people who haven’t hunted.

    Like

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