The deleted Chapter
Around the time of discovering EU, so many things were going wrong in my life.
The hunting season had started here in Britain.
I know it’s a controversial subject, but I am neither pro or anti hunting.
Some people feel passionate about hunting, some people are passionate anti-hunting campaigners, and some are saboteurs. Some people don’t get involved, but just hate what they see as ‘a cruel sport’.
Well my view is, I don’t like seeing anything killed, yet I eat meat.
Also, I’ve seen first hand what a hound does to a fox, its quick and its kind..its also more natural to be killed by a predator.
Foxes and hares are fast, faster than a hound, not a greyhound, but this isn’t hare-coursing I am speaking about. This isn’t something I have taken part in.
The foxes caught are usually the slow old, sick foxes, that are beyond hunting efficiently for themselves, but find Farmer Jones hens a far easier target.
So I find I am a self-confessed hypocrite.
Lets face it, if I am sat on a horse, own horses, and 2 dogs, then I love animals.
I love foxes too, I think they are beautiful animals, I see them all the time when hacking through the country-side.
So when a fox is caught when hunting.. I look the other way, I hate it, and have to say, so do most of the other lady-hunters.
So why go?
I love the thrill of it, its fast and dangerous. The hunt flat out gallops through the country-side, jumping logs/fences and hedges, crossing rivers and streams.
I only recall falling off once.
Ive been drunk many a time by noon, as the riders pass around the hip-flasks full of whiskey, would be rude to say no 
The whiskey is traditional of course, but we all need it, its dutch courage (ohhh, I just realised what that saying means, am I insulting the dutch using that, or does it mean something else? Anyhoo, old saying here, so no offence to the Dutch)
No-one, well me, wants to be jumping a 4 foot barbed wire fence completely sober!
So anyway, as my eu career was starting, there I was one day hunting for real and Oscar, my gelding, receives an injury.
Something has sliced through his back leg, he can’t walk on it, and there’s blood everywhere.
A little crowd gathers, all of a sudden everyone’s a vet with an opinion.
One guy in all his wisdom announces that it would be better not to move my horse, but call a vet to this location, and have my horse shot.
I told him to “Fu^k Off” I was crying by this time, so stood there pointing down the road crying and screaming it.
Then I told all the other people stood there with an opinion to do the same.
Why? I felt my horse was traumatised enough, I know for a fact, a group of people all talking at once around him didn’t help. My horse of course, didn’t understand what was going on, all he knew was that he was in pain.
I took my hunting stock off (its like a tie, but wider and white, its part of the hunting ‘uniform’) and tied it tightly around his back leg.
Then on 3 legs I dragged him hobbling down the road, for miles, back to where our transport was located.
The driver then drove him straight to an equine clinic.
A lot of treatment ensued, the short story is, my horse had sliced his tendon, which had then haemorrhaged and collapsed in on itself.
No leg, no horse, so that was the end of his career, and maybe even his life.
In the very near future, I was to become ill also. So what a fine pair of invalids we made together.
I’ve already spoken about me being ill, so wasn’t riding, and as it was, my gelding was unridable.
A full year stable rest was advised for him, if after a year, the tendon hadn’t or couldn’t heal, he would be shot.
An entire year, everyday I would have to go into that stable, change bandages and care for him.
As time went on, his confinement depressed him, and I was his target for his frustrations, many a time, I was bitten and hurt, I would cry, but didn’t have the heart to tell him off.
An entire year did pass; DJ continued in vl to grow at Raven Valley, Debbie continued to look after Oscar.
Early 2006 the vet was called yet again, I needed a verdict, it was time.
Oscar was on the verge of killing me being confined, him and myself could not go on like this any longer.
The news was good, the tendon would never be the same again, and his hunting career was over, but his leg would be good enough to use for gentle exercise.
Then began a long road of getting him fit again, getting back in the saddle, riding him again.
We got fit together, I hadn’t ridden much either, had been licking my own wounds for an entire year also.
All my physical scars had healed, but my mental ones hadn’t.
My real life relationship suffered horribly.
I totally blamed him that I could have died, I remember him stood at the ambulance doors, he was clutching my moccasin slippers to his chest.
He looked frightened; I hated him for that, truly.
I hated him for a very very long time, for giving me a look like that.
Did he not think I was frightened enough, without having my fear confirmed in his eyes?
I hated that hospital, and all the doctors, was a doctor that had messed up in the first place.
I blamed him because I told him something was wrong, and continued to as I got weaker, he didn’t know what to do, just thought it was the after-affects of the first minor operation.
I had such hatred in my heart, although, looking back, I was so angry at the entire world, I took it out on the person closest to me.
I dumped him more than once.
The more I hurt, the more I skilled in-game, I loved the escapism.
The blue skies, I could be alone if I chose, I didn’t have to think, just shoot 
I put off social engagements more than once; my friends began to nag me about it.
One close friend I just completely broke contact with.
I got sick of her parties; it was a regular thing in my life once.
Like taking turns, on whose house do we go to for a bbq/drinks for this week-end.
Sometimes it would be my turn, I loved them at the time, and loved being the hostess.
But then everything changed, and I didn’t care anymore.
Nope, I just skilled, looked after Oscar and just about ignored the rest of the world.
From me being ill, and then Oscar, getting back in the saddle again, on a horse I had nursed for over a year, I felt that day as the sun shone riding through the country-side, we had both come full circle.
That of course not being the end of my entire story of ‘full circle’ but a rather significant time in my life.
tb cont..
!!Happy Birthday!! 