North Hill Hounds --1999

North Hills Hunt

Nebraska's only officially-sanctioned fox hunt club, ...North Hills Hunt of Omaha.

This weekend the North Hills Hunt brings together members of eight other hunt clubs from across the west. 10,000 acres of wide open land ideal for a fox hunt. It's the rolling hills and rugged valleys surrounding the Calamus Reservoir.

A number of ranchers open their land for the weekend ride. Judy Kahlhandt, who rode with the hunt back in Omaha, boasted that the ranch she and her husband own near Burwell would be a perfect place to ride, ...and they took her up on it.

She noted: "They're surprised because there's so much land few fences." Henry, her husband, avers "Out here they can go for seven, eight, nine miles and never come to a cross road." Helmuth Dahlke, MFH North Hills Hunt, avers that the pack he oversees isn't all one breed but they are trained to work in a manner needed for a successful hunt.

"What we try to do is teach these hounds it is better to be together, a pack. Luke Matranga is the Huntsman, is concerned about conserving the hounds..."We try not to expend all the energy of the animals, either the hounds or the horses, on the first day so we have something left for tomorrow.

On Saturday: Luke Matranga greets Dennis Foster, the executive director of the MFHA. Foster notes ... "This is a contest really between the fox and the hounds. The emphasis in America is to chase the fox, or the coyote in this case, so we get on these horses, these wonderful creatures, and we watch two animals that have been chasing each other since the beginning of their existence, the fox and the coyote, and we get to watch it in this beautiful countryside you got here."

Tradition and ritual guide each hunt. Of these traditions the dress code, that distinctive look, is paramount. Participants protect and defend trademark red coat worn by men, is considered an honor. Matranga point out..."After somebody's been a member of the hunt for an extended period of time and we're certain that they know the territory, they know the horses, they follow the traditions of fox hunting, then we award them colors." Women can earn an identical coat in black.

The colors on the collar identify each hunt club. Old gold and royal blue is the North Hills. Even the ascot scarf called a stock tie has a purpose. Matranga continues ... "It's a big bandage. And we can take this off because sometimes the horse will get hurt or the rider will get hurt." The riding boots are high fashion with a function protecting legs from the thick brush during a ride and the horse hair. Spurs are for motivation.

Another tradition, the stirrup cup is a toast to participants and the hosting landlords.

The quarry here is coyote, rather than fox... just as quick and difficult to track, plentiful in the sandhills. Nor is the goal to actually catch much less kill the coyote. This is a chase. The longer and faster, the better. Dennis Foster notes, "If we're real lucky we get to see the quarry also which is the coyote. So you have to have a lot of hounds if you want to run and gallop because hounds are just like people. Sometimes they'll have better smelling than others so you need a lot of them so they carry the scent and they keep moving forward."

In a matter of minutes the hounds and horses are bounding across the landscape. It looks chaotic but as Luke Matranga, the huntsman says that's pretty normal for the sandhills. "When the hounds take off, they can go through areas that we can't follow directly so sometimes we're going to have to cut very wide and to be able to find a terrain we can get through with the horses and then catch back up with the hounds again."

While the rest of the riders give chase, some are assigned to make sure the pack doesn't get too spread out, that some independent-minded hounds don't take off on their own.

Jim Sophir, the whipper-in, says "We actually try not to use our whips and when we do, we crack it just to get their attention. Verbal commands such as pack into the huntsmen, pack up, try left, try right. And they respond pretty well to those voice commands. A whip actually should be sort of seen and not heard."

The hounds pick up the scent again sending 30 hounds into a thicket too dense for the horsemen to ride into. In a matter of minutes, one hound breaks out and the chase is on again. The hounds got on a terrific run and we just went for miles and miles and miles. Matringa notes, "we got in front of the hounds and stopped them and on the way back picked up most of them. We started out with 29 hounds. We have 28 back right now. We're waiting for only one hound to come in."

Jim Sophir,back from this thankless job trying to control the hounds, affectionately gives the credit for the morning ride where it's due, to his mount, River City Red. "For me he is extremely athletic. He is very fast. He is a retired racehorse so he is a thoroughbred and he is off the track. Very willing jumper. Never refuses a jump. So that's what makes him a great mount."

Beth Schaben, Dunlap, IA chimes in,"You know, it's beautiful countryside. The footing is always slept. You never have to worry about the footing. The hounds get to spread out. You get to see them no matter how far out ahead of you they are and so you really get to view it for a while."

Sunday arrives cool and dry. An evening of socializing and nursing sore muscles from the previous day does not keep the riders from a sunrise call for today's hunt. Everyone who participates acknowledges it takes a particular, even peculiar sort of person to take part in a hunt.

John Mail of the hunt staff decided motorcycle racing was not exciting enough so he turns to fox hunting. excitingly he says, "Oh, hey, you are just flying across country. I mean, you are on an animal that weighs 1,200 pounds and has a brain the size of a pea. Your life is literally in his hands."

Today's hunt should be even more interesting because the pack will be twice as large. 30 more hounds from Reno, Nevada are joining the hunt and they are ready to go. Anyone who thought a Sunday morning hunt would be more leisurely was sorely mistaken, perhaps just plain sore. The first of the riders and all of the pack had just cleared the first fence row when the lead hound picks up the scent. That sends the entire hunt back across the fence and over a hill. For the next three hours, the pack would be moving almost nonstop. Spectators would have a difficult time keeping track of the progress as the hounds ran farther and farther north. "When you ride for as far as you can see and then ride for as far as you can see again, it's just a tremendous day." Eventually the riders and even some of the hounds gave up trying to keep up. With the pack still running, the hunt staff called off the riders and decided they should get a couple of pick-up trucks to round up the rest of the hounds. The hounds went clear west and clear north. They'll keep running until it makes a circle or comes back or runs the ground. ... they probably obviously a pretty healthy coyote."

The coyote fared better than the master of the hunt. He was thrown from his steed in full gallop. Matringa with arm in sling... "Tallyho!"