By Gail Day

There’s a hot bath in my future, still have sticky sweat on my brow, Advil administered. Can’t wait.

Where were you?

Having decided to stay in OC due to strangles down south and Millbrook way we started at 9:30 this morning in fairly comfortable temperatures from the Kennels. We compared layers, informal or formal attire, a small group assembled, one puppy out.

So we set off, the usual draw, many, many haunch popping up and, as far as I can tell, nothing much transpired, hounds were gathered at Reed Road above 66 and cast again at Schulerud’s. From my vantage on Bashford nothing much happening except a new roof on Harvey and Martha’s house–try that one on your horse–not so much the air hammers, but the guy with the amazing gray mane did attract Alfie’s attention. Onward to the infamous green gate.

Notice came from Thomas that hounds were working along the waterway. Then moving south–I moved south–then moving east, north, so, again I’m watching the green gate and what do I spy? Not Santa, but a golden, brown coyote heading west! It takes some time to bring hounds down, they struck in the low brush of the swampy land and headed to Gleason’s old heifer field and north, then east, and north where Jason Brown identified the pilot as a big, red fox. (Not my golden, brown coyote.) It continued north, we continued north, north to our most northern points. Some fear and trepidation that quarry and hounds might go to North Chatham but that changed, swung east, and headed south. There was considerable east and west activity with the north-south run, too much to describe here, but you get my drift. Quarry made its way to swamp along Bashford Road where after a time hounds were called in to Brown’s field.

Cheese, sausage and liverwurst and port awaited us. Can you believe it’s December!?