Success at the Virginina Hound Show
 
Seventeen members and friends of the Hunt came to Virginia to cheer on our hounds from the “B” litter on Memorial day weekend. The hounds that competed in the American Foxhound Division are as follows… Bubbles, Buttercup, Blossom, Bugle Ann, Brutus, Benchmark, Barrister, Bailiff, Bright Eyes, Brielle, and Badger. Misty Morning was pinned in five out of seven classes. Over all, it was a win, win, win, win, win... for Misty Morning Hounds! The weather was not the best. There was mud up to your ankles, and it rained for a while, !!! but was a fun time had by all. We hope to see even more members there next year. Congrats to all! Photo above is of the Stars of the show, Barrister & Brutus posing for the camera after winning the Couple of Dogs-Entered.(Photo by Jim Meads) .

Hunt Ball Celebration Mark’s Season’s End- March 7

Fancy duds, scrumptious dinner, and a very fun band marked the close of a great season. Since the Hunt Ball is now old news to most of our members, we will make it quick & brief: The auction raised roughly $3,000 for our glorious hounds. A very biased contingent campaigned for Ammo, who was indeed successful in being elected Hound of the Year—and well-deserved, it was. Bob Ellis was named Most Dedicated Foxhunter, and Nancy Hardt’s horse, Hawk, was named Hunt Horse of the Year after his years of service both in the Field and as a Staff Mount. Hunt Colours were awarded to Patti Rozensky, Pamela Dehaven, Susan Craig, Lynn Johnson, and Kathy Noffsinger. Many thanks to all those that have supported Misty Morning Hounds this season, and for their generosity in attendance and with donations to this grand finale affair!

Notes from the Huntsman: Those hounds! You just gotta’ love ‘em!
by Alexis Macaulay, MFH

As we wrap up eight full hunt seasons with this year’s Closing Meet and the big wins in Virginia, I just have to express my appreciation to our Hound Heroes who set our sport apart from all the other horse sports. I know to neophyte foxhunters, they’re just a bunch of “dawgs,” but as the seasons pass, many become celebrities in their own right - not just to me, but to many of our members — and it has absolutely nothing to do with the ribbons or the glamour of our sport. We’ve had many memorable hounds, and I suppose each member who is in touch with the hounds has his or her own secret favorite—and, actually, some don’t keep it such a secret. There is the occasional class clown, oozing with personality, often with some noteworthy trait that repeatedly catches the members’ eye. ... such as Showman. whose teasing personality won him Hound of the Year two years ago. Does anyone else remember his antics at the water jump doing full swan dives in front of any hesitant horse, seemingly to show them how it was to be done? Or grabbing the drag bag so many times without breaking it, just to entice a good chase with the other hounds? Or flipping around on his back, legs paddling the air, rolling on the drag rag? Lots of personality there. Many hounds are incredibly friendly—wiggling & gushing all over the members in the kennels; others are so graceful & athletic that you simply can’t take your eyes off them in the field; some are just plain sweet, and of course there’s the ones that everyone knows—the ones that are corrected so often in the hunt field that it becomes a joke of sorts… Such as in the case of Abstract, who Master Mac always made excuses for, and as a result, Abstract developed a rather arrogant attitude, knowing he could do no wrong. …. And Boots, with her incessant sassing of the Whips, which drove them crazy, but was very entertaining to the rest of us.

Nobody can miss Ammo. He’s always out front & though a little shy with people, he has that great nose that trails in any weather condition, but particularly shines in the most miserable hot, humid, mosquito-slapping days, when every other hound fails. Don’t know what I’d do without a hound like him—we’d be at a total loss on those days—of which we seem to have too many... I’m hoping for more like him, which is why he is the sire of the recent “C” litter.

Through the years the hounds have given me many vivid photograph-type memories, and, of course, I’ve developed a special rapport with them. More than a few eyebrows have been raised when I respond to someone’s question of, “How do you know that,” with, “Well, the hounds told me, of course.” It can be anything from one hound stealing another hound’s bone to something a Whip is doing when out of my sight. It’s no wonder the Huntsman is always considered to be a rather eccentric type, and it comes with the territory, I suppose. But anyone that spends immense time with their animals knows how true this is. I see images of the hounds in the kennel which can never be captured on film, and lucky are the members that really step forward and get involved there, and get to share these scenes. Brielle & Bobbles are known for flipping their toys, sometimes consisting of cow leg bones or cow pelvises around the kennel, to rouse a good game of chase... Airmail still loves to play with all her “B” litter puppies (now full-grown!) & selects just them with which to play. Welfare always lays with her front paws very politely crossed. Bugle Ann shoves her muzzle through any wire fence pinching it into a contorted mold of floppy skin. Benchmark runs to look for his chewie whenever I come in the kennel, whining and wiggling like a pup, until I praise him.

It’s no secret the hound love of my life was ever-faithful Razzle, who I miss each and every hunting and non-hunting day. I still can’t bring myself to write about him, unfortunately….There are literally hundreds of photos of us together, and he is always gazing up at me, usually at the right shoulder of my horse.

We lost another core hound in the pack this season, with the mysterious death of Bundles. So quiet and dainty, with unbelievable self-control, there was not a more enthusiastic member of our pack when out hunting. That shrill cry could never be mistaken; and when Bundles spoke , there was no holding-back the pack; nor would you want to, as she was almost always right. She and Boots took up the slack when we lost Razzle, and in the kennels, there was no hound sweeter or more polite. None of the insistent shoving or jumping up-and –down for her! Shame on them! She would quietly walk up beside you and gently place her muzzle under your cupped hand, roll her eyes up at you, and just wait for your attention. Lady-like, she would tiptoe through the kennel around any pile or wet spot, and I often thought what a horror the trip in the chaotic hound truck must be to her. Though she was always by my side and quite obedient, even I misjudged Bundles’ impact on the Pack. She was so understated that after she was gone, I found myself repeatedly correcting the other hounds, to the point of losing my temper. I thought it was just my anger, once again, at death, but thought it strange that I was yelling so often at hounds that I had seldom corrected before. Were they angry, too, and just rebelling? Of course not, and the truth was that they were simply lost without her. She was their hero and leader, and for a period of a little over 2 weeks the Pack was simply lost. After extensive foot walking we became solid again , but we all have missed her (except for perhaps Bugle Ann and Boots, who were never fond of her—nor she of them).

More Images: Old Frolic ( at 11 y.o.!)coming over that last coop several years ago on her last sweltering hot Closing Meet before her retirement, when every other single hound, including the puppies, went around it! ….Flicker, the day he was flying through the woods in full cry at Sunnyhill (this goes way back..), only to find that one airborne stride launched him into a net of vines, caged perfectly around his barrel, holding him suspended in mid air, free-swinging back and forth, with his legs still pumping away, but unable to make contact with the ground. Whip, Barbara Joyce & I laughed ’til we were absolutely in tears. ...a special moment several years ago at a very flooded Lochloosa when I was privy to a view of our entire pack racing and splashing through a wooded pond straight towards me in full cry. Surrounded by Live Oaks dripping with Spanish moss, and their reverberating cry echoing through the woods- the sensory input was incredible. I soaked-in the image of the beads of water splashing upwards and the energy and animation of the hounds with their full instincts at work in this quiet, private place. It was electrifying and peaceful all at once.

Then there’s the recent Alien episode, when he was lost, prompting a 4-day search right up until dark on New Year’s Eve, and the posting of over a hundred flyers. Because the odds were greater than winning the lottery, I have to believe that what happened at that precise place and moment in time which prompted his return was truly Devine Intervention. Believe me, I’m no Holy Roller, but I became a Believer that day! As I (still posting flyers) literally ran out of gas and rolled into the “Lucky 7” Chevron in Newberry, on fumes, (some 40 miles from where Alien had been lost)—a hunter wheeled-into the same station to pick up a 6-pack of beer. I longingly admired his hound teetering around on his toolbox, a good 7 feet up in the air (Don’t you just HATE it when they do that!). Then, as I looked at the hollow-faced, 10 pound lighter hound which was marked incredibly like Alien, I couldn’t believe my eyes.! I was dumbstruck—No—It couldn’t be! I called to him, and he turned his head, and perked his ears . What ensued next was, in retrospect, a really insane sight, as I bolted towards the truck, screaming, “Alien! Alien! Is that you!!! Alien!”, and started trying to drag the poor hound off the tool box, as he tugged backwards, not wanting to splat on the pavement. Mom joined the frenzy, in tears, also screaming “Alien,” shoving lost hound flyers in the bewildered hunter’s hand as he returned with his beer. My disconjointed babble, with “Alien” as the main text drew crowds; and I’m sure several were exchanging knowing glances, thinking quietly that this lady seeing aliens was truly a case warranting a straight jacket on her trip back to the funny farm.

Don’t be mistaken, it’s an emotional roller coaster, this hunting & hound business! But, of course, it’s worth it. We have these glorious hounds, thousands of memories, and many more to come. Look close, and you’ll see them, too– and hopefully grow to love and appreciate the Hounds as much as I do. …….And you know what else? Some years we even get ribbons!