by Chrysann Collatos

Huntsman and hounds move off, with the field of riders following quietly. Listening carefully to the huntsman’s voice and horn, the hounds spread out in search of game. Suddenly, one hound cries out. The remaining hounds "honor", approaching to help find the line of scent. Everyone looks for the coyote: he may be in plain view, or it may be a day for hounds to cannily unravel his invisible trail. Once the hounds are "on", the chase begins in earnest. The bolder riders stay with the huntsman while those less experienced follow at a calm pace; our open country ensures everyone a good view.

For those on the huntsman’s heels, the feeling is euphoric. Thundering along with intoxicating abandon, the hounds appear to fly across the ground, screaming in ecstasy. The line may last 100 yards, or it may continue for miles. Almost inevitably, the coyote’s speed and cleverness combine with the dry scenting conditions to thwart our determined hounds, and the scent is lost. The huntsman gathers the hounds and praises them exuberantly as we all ride home satisfied, tired, and eager for lunch!