When I describe the red coats, the sound of the hunting horn, exhilarating gallops, and howling hounds, folks tend to look at me like I’ve joined a cult. And honestly, from the dress code to the unique and peculiar traditions, it could be a cult, except that our religion is the rush of the ride and the thrill of the chase, our huntsman is our priest, and whether we ride through enchanting forests or wide-open prairie, those hours in the saddle each week are our church.

Comment