I drove down the road to the pasture where I keep my horses when tragedy struck. I whistled to my horses and they all obediently ran up to me. (I just shake my head at those guys who have to spend 30 minutes chasing their horses, trying to catch them every time they want to go for a ride. What a bunch of losers.) As I greeted each one of them with a hug and a carrot, I noticed my mare had some terrible sores appearing all over her head, neck and back. The hair was falling out and large areas of dry, bare skin were left in its place. And, she didn't seem to be her normal, spirited self.
Of course, no hunt is worth the price of a treasured friend and loyal companion, so my plans immediately changed. I called my brothers and told them I was going to have to make a detour to the vet to make sure my horse didn't have the West Nile Virus and I wouldn't be able to meet them at the agreed-upon time and location and that they shouldn't wait for me. In fact, it looked like my whole hunt might need to be cancelled. Of course, they were disappointed I wouldn't be there with them since I was bringing the tent and all of the cooking equipment and had most of the food, but we follow the code in our family?them that falls behind gets left behind?so they wished me the best and went ahead without me.