John Schafer,
M.F.H.
A Greeting from and Brief Biography of Red Rock’s New Joint MFH
“Now, where are all your sorrows and your cares, ye gloomy souls! or where your pains and aches, ye complaining ones! one halloo has dispelled them all.”—(From “Description of a Fox Chase” by R. S. Surtees)
Hello. The ever-efficient Angela has asked me to give you all a brief biography so you might have a better understanding of your new joint MFH. I can only start by telling you that my life has been nothing but one big “halloo” since discovering the Red Rock Hounds some 11 years ago. Please indulge me and forgive the R. S. Surtees “pastiche-ing” that might rear its head from time-to-time here, and I shall indeed try and comply with Carol’s request of “Brief let it be,” as the ghost of Hamlet says.
When I first came out to try hunting with the Red Rock Hounds I told Lynn and honestly thought that I would come out perhaps once a month for the first season, and if in-fact I liked it would perhaps join the next season. Well, it was that same day I had my first “halloo” on a fantastic gallop through the Nevada desert and I got “hooked” as they say, “hook, line and sinker” or in this case, “hounds, horses and freedom.” Within the week I had joined the hunt and bought a horse. As I often tell people, there are worse things to which one can be addicted.
Now I have been asked and have accepted the joint mastership of this great hunt. Lynn, Scott, Gayle, I hardly know how to thank you for this totally uncalled for and totally unmerited mark of your friendship towards me and your confidence in me. If, during the past seasons I have been honored by you to play a part in our great sport, it is because of all your and so many others exertions in helping me find my way.
It was Laura Smith—now Mrs. Demar Dahl—that babysat me on that first gallop across the desert and told me to “Go for the ride, don’t ‘Ride every stride.’ Well, sort-of.” It was Scott Tepper who wouldn’t let me ride in my nasty black helmet during my first Pacific District Coast Meet, and gave me one of his own helmets to use so that I might be more presentable. It was Gayle Horn who showed me how to tie my stock tie correctly and also told me to ditch the blue shirt. And that was only the beginning of so many things I have learned from her. And it was hot-on-the-heels of Judy Vose and Kathy Clark that I learned how to keep up with hounds—and shut-up. Chrysann and Bodie and Tiffany taught me how to ride like a madman down cliffs and across ravines and up mountains to get to the front of the hounds—and not in-front of them. (I’ll let the reader figure out the object of that last sentence.) And finally I got to ride in the pocket of our huntsman and learned the method of getting across country via what I call the “Triple L”-- the “Lynn Lloyd Line.” During those years I learned from Lynn so much about what’s involved in hunting the hounds. As a matter-of-fact it was from Lynn that I heard what I feel is the most profound statement I’ve ever read or heard on hunting: “Just remember, the hounds do all the work.”
It was Linda Vogedes who had told me about those “crazy people” who chase coyotes out in the Nevada desert and to whom I promised I would keep safe and never jump barb wire; a promise I promptly broke within two months. And even that little snot-nosed red-haired girl who kept chasing me around the arena at the UNR Equestrian Center all those years ago yelling “Keep your leg on! Keep your leg on!” Even her.
I’m often asked why I hunt. I say things like “Because it gets me out of myself,” or “It shows me how good life is” or (if we’re talking woo-woo) “It centers me in the universe.” It is all of these things, and it’s also because of all of you. Because you have become my family. Because you are my life. It is to all of you in particular I cannot sufficiently express how much I appreciate this kindness, and can only beg you to accept the humble but grateful thanks of an individual whose soul from his cradle has been riveted to the chase, was fortunate enough to find that out here among you and who will ever “hold fast” until the earth receives him, this distinguished token of your goodwill.
“Hounds stout and horse healthy
Country well-stocked with coyotes plenty.”
Cheers,
John Schafer MFH
john@redrockhounds.com
Oh, sorry Angela and Carol. I got so wrapped-up in it all I forgot my bio. So, in the manner of Hamlet’s ghost: John Schafer is a saloonkeeper in Virginia City, Nevada. He has recently been named a joint MFH of the Red Rock Hounds.