Since frontier times Sandy Springers have zestfully pursued outdoor activities, and none with more ardor than foxhunting. Quaker pioneer James Brooke brought not only a wife but a prized pack of foxhounds to his wilderness cabin Charley Forrest, and their offspring led proud owners on the chase for two and a half centuries. In an 1827 hunt, reports historian Roger Brooke Farquhar, "a fox ran an estimated eighty miles and two of Brooke's hounds led most of the way." Wrote Martha Nesbitt of the Brooke hounds: "They were large animals, fawn grey to red in color, with large and narrow, silky, well-hung ears that could be stretched to the tips of their noses. They had round compact 'cat's paws' that did not become tender in running...tails carried erect like a flagstaff, and big, beautiful voices with a bell-like break at the end. Their speed, endurance, fox-sense, and gameness were outstanding." When hunting season formally starts each November, members of the Goshen Hunt still invite a member of the clergy to bless the hounds, then joyfully and perilously plunge into their favorite sport and its associated social delights.

Boots polished, saddles waxed, horses stamping, members of the Goshen Hunt prepare to cast the hounds near Brookeville to kick off the 1988-89 season. Soon the Master of Fox Hounds will lead a chase that if successful will result in another brush, or fox tail. Whether or not there's a kill--and probably there won't be--the hunters will revel in the thrill of pell-mell pursuit and the ensuing cocktail party.