Knacker Hill

After carrying litters of foxhound puppies in handfuls past the kennel fence, through the horse pasture, and over the stream, we would arrive at the base of Knacker Hill, where, decades ago, the old horses waited out their lives until slaughter. Gathering the puppies together, we would race all together, up and up. Crowning the fastest little pup with praise, we would stumble down the too-steep hill back home to present our findings to Daddy. Silly as our races were, we liked to think we were evaluating our future crop of hounds, deciding who would one day lead the pack.