Where did that truck come from?

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It seemed like a good idea at the time.

My friend Gregg Ryan invited my family and me to a hunt breakfast (only in the foxhunting world is a 1:30 breakfast considered normal) on Sunday. I don’t walk the sidelines.

So, I sent an innocent text.

“I want to go hunting, need horse and gear.”

In an hour, I had a horse and gear. Gulp.

Bad Dog Press, Dot Smithwick and the Sunny Bank Farm team met me Sunday morning and sent me on my way.

“Is that Bad Dog Press?”


“Oh, you’re going to have your hands full.”

The field met at Ryan’s house for Opening Day of the 2009 Snickersville Hunt. We went off up the dirt road and hopped over a stone wall heading to the first cover. I was tired already.

I put my irons up another hole, borrowed Ryan’s gloves and then it was tug of war for the better part of three hours. Bad Dog Press pressed and I tried to counter. It takes two to pull, this felt like 100 on one side and one old, unfit, half-scared ex-jump rider on the other. Ryan took the field. I put Bad Dog Press at his boot. It felt like Circuit Bar and Woody Boy Would around Radnor back in the 90s. Fast, I’ll show you fast. Standing off, I’ll show you standing off.

Ryan is a sportsman and makes it fun for all, we run and jump, chase and slide, careen and dart. The foxes give us a good thrill; a couple of views, a lot of miles.

It’s been two days. My body feels like a truck ran over it. My soul feels good.