It begins with a Subaru. I had taken Forrester Whittaker to get worked on at Stott’s Ford, and decided to grab a breakfast sandwich at the Trade Street Café (though I’m rarely awake for though, I love me some breakfast sammiches). While I was waiting for my food, I just so happened to grab a copy of Appointments – The Hoofbeats of the Carolina Foothills, in order to entertain myself.
In addition to having the worst (or best) title in the world, Appointments is a newsletter put out by horse people, for horse people, about, well, horse people. As I skimmed through the magazine, I happened upon an article that claimed that once upon a time, Polk County was considered “one of the best horse and foxhunting counties in the world.”
As far as I knew, Polk County is and has always been Horse Country. But as for fox hunting…let me put it this way. In the seventeen years that I have lived here, I haven’t seen a single fox, except for the stuffed one in the lobby of the bourgie mecca that is Red Fox Country Club.
At first, I didn’t believe this article. How could Polk County be such a great place for fox hunting if there aren’t very many foxes left? OH WAIT. BECAUSE FOX HUNTERS MUST HAVE KILLED ALL THE FUCKING FOXES.
In the unlikely event that you’re a fox hunting enthusiast and reading this, please forgive me, for I know not of what I speak, and I mean no harm to you, just like you mean no harm to those adorable little foxes.
Now I might just be saying this because I have no idea what I’m talking about, but isn’t fox hunting cruel to animals? Because of how you have to, like, kill the fox? I looked it up on the internet, and fox hunting works like this: A bunch of people get together, jump on some horses, and follow some dogs while the dogs chase a fox. The dogs then kill the fox, and the “hunters” (who, let’s face it, really aren’t hunters as much as they’re followers) then have tea and talk about the latest ways to oppress the proletariat. And then, there’s the type of fox hunting where they take an already-dead fox, hide it somewhere, and let the dogs follow the scent to it.
Me, I see no difference. Either way you end up with a dead fox.
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