By Peggy Hart
Adam was born in April 1990 in a difficult birth, with his mother crammed into a corner of the stall. I grabbed his two small feet and helped ease him into this world. And what a surprise when he was foaled! A bay colt out of a buttermilk buckskin. We dubbed his show name Jump the Moon Atom, but we all called him Adam at the barn.
We tried a little of everything. Dressage: “But, Peggy, this isn't a dressage horse,” said Wolfgang. “No, Wolfgang, he is a foxhunting horse.” But he won his first blue at his first show, Dressage in the Delta. Hunter - Champion at the Federal Farms show. Jumper - at an Oak View Stables Show when he cleared his first combination and I let out an explosive "yes" to the amusement of the judge. Eventing - he won Beginner Novice at the Middle Tennessee Pony Club Event in a sport he was not taken with. He wanted to consult about the advisability of jumping each of these strange obstacles without the hounds present.
After doing all of those things, we went Fox Hunting. Because what he really loved was fox hunting! And he was so good at it. Starting as a youngster was a little scary with tufts of grass appearing as huge monsters, but he soon got the hang of it and reveled in it. To ride a horse that knows his job is an awesome experience, but to ride one who loves his job transcends everything! As a trail horse he could be a plug, but once the hounds were brought out, you could imagine him say, "Okay, this is my thing!" He served as my staff horse from the time he was four, mostly as a Whipper-in’s horse, but also many times as the Huntsman's horse, actively involved in hunting the hounds. He knew hounds, he understood coyote and fox, and he was the one who spotted the quarry first.
Silence in the hunt field sometimes meant you were thrown out of the hunt. But with Adam it was only a matter of time until his ears pricked and he knew where the action was to get back into the hunt. That fear of new obstacles changed when the hounds were running. We kept up with them; we stopped them if they were on the wrong game; we brought them back to the Huntsman; we flew across the open fields on cold winter mornings, over coops and rails; and together our breath rose in cloudy mists as we waited while the hounds sorted out the line. As he got older it was harder to run as fast, so he became smart, and from experience, we could decipher where the game was likely to run and be sitting there when they showed up. You could feel his satisfaction!
As he aged jumping was harder. Once the hounds mistakenly got on the wrong game and Adam and I tore through the woods on a dirt road, through a ditch, across a field called Armadillo Alley, and over a huge coop. Hounds were not allowed to run the wrong thing. Hounds would be stopped. We stopped them!
Adam survived a number of injuries in his own pasture, but was never hurt when foxhunting. He survived a broken shoulder, a fractured skull, ripping his back legs on barbed wire and a broken hind splint bone. This summer I told everyone he only had his left front that had not be injured. But then it was injured and there was no way to fix it.
Our last ride together was a quiet walk through the hunt country he had hunted in all his life and woods that we had ridden in so many times before. He picked up a trot in the pasture as we headed home and arrived safe and sound. He was gone five days later. I buried my friend of 26 years.
Adam was born in April 1990 in a difficult birth, with his mother crammed into a corner of the stall. I grabbed his two small feet and helped ease him into this world. And what a surprise when he was foaled! A bay colt out of a buttermilk buckskin. We dubbed his show name Jump the Moon Atom, but we all called him Adam at the barn.
We tried a little of everything. Dressage: “But, Peggy, this isn't a dressage horse,” said Wolfgang. “No, Wolfgang, he is a foxhunting horse.” But he won his first blue at his first show, Dressage in the Delta. Hunter - Champion at the Federal Farms show. Jumper - at an Oak View Stables Show when he cleared his first combination and I let out an explosive "yes" to the amusement of the judge. Eventing - he won Beginner Novice at the Middle Tennessee Pony Club Event in a sport he was not taken with. He wanted to consult about the advisability of jumping each of these strange obstacles without the hounds present.
After doing all of those things, we went Fox Hunting. Because what he really loved was fox hunting! And he was so good at it. Starting as a youngster was a little scary with tufts of grass appearing as huge monsters, but he soon got the hang of it and reveled in it. To ride a horse that knows his job is an awesome experience, but to ride one who loves his job transcends everything! As a trail horse he could be a plug, but once the hounds were brought out, you could imagine him say, "Okay, this is my thing!" He served as my staff horse from the time he was four, mostly as a Whipper-in’s horse, but also many times as the Huntsman's horse, actively involved in hunting the hounds. He knew hounds, he understood coyote and fox, and he was the one who spotted the quarry first.
Silence in the hunt field sometimes meant you were thrown out of the hunt. But with Adam it was only a matter of time until his ears pricked and he knew where the action was to get back into the hunt. That fear of new obstacles changed when the hounds were running. We kept up with them; we stopped them if they were on the wrong game; we brought them back to the Huntsman; we flew across the open fields on cold winter mornings, over coops and rails; and together our breath rose in cloudy mists as we waited while the hounds sorted out the line. As he got older it was harder to run as fast, so he became smart, and from experience, we could decipher where the game was likely to run and be sitting there when they showed up. You could feel his satisfaction!
As he aged jumping was harder. Once the hounds mistakenly got on the wrong game and Adam and I tore through the woods on a dirt road, through a ditch, across a field called Armadillo Alley, and over a huge coop. Hounds were not allowed to run the wrong thing. Hounds would be stopped. We stopped them!
Adam survived a number of injuries in his own pasture, but was never hurt when foxhunting. He survived a broken shoulder, a fractured skull, ripping his back legs on barbed wire and a broken hind splint bone. This summer I told everyone he only had his left front that had not be injured. But then it was injured and there was no way to fix it.
Our last ride together was a quiet walk through the hunt country he had hunted in all his life and woods that we had ridden in so many times before. He picked up a trot in the pasture as we headed home and arrived safe and sound. He was gone five days later. I buried my friend of 26 years.
