New foxhunters can turn to numerous fine books for answers to their burning questions about hunting technique, hunting field etiquette and turnout, or for explanations of horncalls. But there’s very little that will help them in deciphering the colorful, eccentric and wildly descriptive names that have been given to the coverts where foxes can be found.

That is, unless you can find a friendly old-timer.

Like everything else in foxhunting, covert names are the result of a lot of history and often more than a little hyperbole.

“Where are we?” the capper asked the rider next to him at a check.

“Oh, we’re on the Smith farm, next to the Rabbit Lady.”

“Right. Oh, yeah, of course,” the capper replied, absolutely clueless as to what that bunch of words might signify. Later, at the hunt breakfast, he told his hostess about riding across the Smith farm.

“Oh, the Smiths were one of the first members to buy property out here, back in the 1920s,” the hostess replied.

“And the family still owns the farm?”

“Heck, no. That land was broken up in the ’50s. The Breckenridges own the part we were on today.”

“I’m confused. Why not say it’s the Breckenridge land?”

“Why would we do that?” she asked, looking at him as if he’d asked why the sky was blue.

There seemed to be no useful reply to that question.

“And the Rabbit Lady?” the capper queried tentatively.

“Oh, there was a sort of eccentric woman who raised rabbits on that farm east of Breckenridges’ place.”

“And when was that?”

“About 40 years ago, I’d guess.”

“And all of these hunt members knew her?”

“No, hardly any of them.”

“So–why do you call it that?

“Because everybody knows exactly where we’re talking about.”

Is It Still There?

And so it goes. Foxhunters regularly refer to farms that no longer exist. (“We’re recasting by the Lazy R Ranch”–now only a couple of foundations and an empty shed.)

Or features that no longer exist. (“We picked up the line at the Pepto-Bismol House”–named for the unfortunate pink color it was once painted.)

The regulars riding with the Mt. Cardigan Foxhounds in New Hampshire often say they’re going to go draw The Shoe or that they can hear hounds running at The Shoe. They’re referring to “The Wooden Shoe,” a 1970s commune that is, of course, long gone now. But the spot is famous for its good hunting, and it perpetuates the moniker, understood by everyone who’s been on a great run in the area.

One landowner in Metamora (Mich.) asked how long she would have to live in a particular spot before we called it by her name, rather than by the former owner’s name. We guessed about 50 years.

But maybe that’s moving along too quickly. The Myopia Hunt (Mass.) has a spot called Nancy’s Corner, a name it got from an incident in the 1920s involving Lady Astor. Things change slowly in the foxhunting world.

Every hunt seems to have a Breakneck Hill, Rollercoaster Hill, Collarbone Hill (or Field), Swamp of No Return, Cactus Hill, Moon Country, Bad Rock Trail, Broken Bridge, or something along those lines, all warning the poor capper of things to come.

The Phoenix Foxhounds (N.Y.) folks have some great covert names, including John Powers’ Outhouse and the Wood-Of-No-Way-Through, known as W-O-N-W-T to those who tried, both on horseback and on cross-country skis, to find a way through.

In late spring, they did find a way around the famous wood, but it retains its name nonetheless. Many foxhunters have found themselves in a W-O-N-W-T in their own country, especially one laced with paths created by directionally challenged deer.

Many covert names, like Mr. Powers’ Outhouse, immortalize an object that was, at least at some point in the dim past, a landmark. In Metamora, there is the Squeaky Windmill, which no longer exists, except for some bits of the foundation, hidden in the bushes. We take the Squeaky part on faith.

The Longreen Foxhounds (Tenn.) have a Pump Hill, which indeed once had a pump on it. According to Susan Walker, MFH, a fox went into the pipe and one of the hounds went in after him but got stuck in the pipe. Once someone turned on the pump, out shot the fox and the hound!

Pretty Trashy

Sometimes, legendary covert names can push the boundaries of political correctness. During Prohibition, one of Metamora’s landowners had a little moonshine operation set up in the woods along the river, and to this day it’s called The Still. In the 1970s, there was a weight-loss residential center, now long-closed, that they still call The Fat Farm.

One of the Goshen Hounds’ (Md.) best hunting areas is known as Redneck Park, which got its somewhat un-P.C. name from the folks who forgot to pack out their trash. The foxes, however, love the neighborhood, and even newcomers look forward to a trip to Redneck Park.

One very productive den in Metamora’s country has had several names. It was dubbed the Pony Club Den, after a great run during the special junior hunt.

The fox ran right to the den, stood there for a moment so everyone could get a good view, and then slipped into the den.

Several years later, a big red fox ran to the same den, on a very cold January day. He went down into the den and then popped back out again. Then he did the same thing–in and out. Then we saw the problem: there was already a male in the den, and he made it very clear that this visitor was not welcome!

Covert country names really are a kind of code, understood only by the small group that uses them. They reinforce a sense of history, both of people and of great hunts. They’re like street signs in New York City. They’re not really meant to help the visitors. They’re there for the regulars.

If it’s important to you, as a newcomer, you too will learn these arcane references. Pretty soon, you’ll find yourself talking about hounds running in The Shoe or the fox you viewed over by Squeaky Windmill. And you’ll just smile at the blank looks you get from the neophytes.

A fixture card once mistakenly identified a meet’s location as the intersection of two parallel roads. But the MFH was unfazed. “They’ll figure it out,” he said, “if they just follow the hounds.”

We may have an information superhighway available to us today, but in the foxhunting world, you still have to know how to read the signs.