Not quite fox hunting, but the closest I've come.

So we’re out there riding, my husband and I, no guests, no packs, nothing to slow us down, and so we run. It’s the end of the season; we let loose. Across the open meadow we urge our horses onward, upwards towards the trees, over uneven ground of flat rocks and drainages and sudden shift and hollows in the ground beneath us. I am watching the terrain ahead, trying to help guide my stallion through this wild obstacle course. Silly me; he does not need my help. His vision is lightening quick, senses alight. All he needs is my balanced seat as he maneuvers across the open hillside full speed ahead.

Suddenly I hear my husband calling. “Up to the right,” he is saying. With wind in my eyes I manage a glimpse and see the big bull elk and the following harem, mothers and young ones and another bull behind them, skirting along the tree line in the direction we are heading.

I pull up the stallion to a halt as the elk cross before us at a deliberate but unhurried run, leaving but not panicked. They tend to smell the horses before the humans. The threat is minimized. It’s the middle of the afternoon and not even hunting season. I swear the elk know.

But now my stallion smells them, sees them, and there are more of them than I thought. I group of cow elk that were bedded in the willows just to our left slowly raise and trot off to join the retreating band.

My steed snorts, with each breath a powerful exhale. His tail is raise, neck swollen and arched, shoulders trembling beneath me as he watches these animals move out before him. Why? What is he thinking? We have run up on elk before; he sees them, smells them, spooks them off quite regularly. But this time it is different. That is what he tells me, what he believes, and he remains an alert fiery ball beneath me. I wonder if he will explode.

We stand and watch as the herd disappears silently into the woods from where they came, leaving one with a question of the existence of the vision. But it was there, and the stud still smells them.

He does not explode, but steps into a quick walk as we turn and return down the mountain. The fox hunt has ended. We treed the wily critters!