Water

Crossing water is such a common occurrence in hunting territory on the East coast that we seldom give it a thought but horses that have never seen water can be quite stubborn about it. Most horses get to be pretty relaxed about it. Endless repetition on hot days, following other horses, helps. Certainly if a horse can live in a pasture with a creek that helps, too.

On the other hand, we seldom need or even want to jump water. Some horses definitely are inclined to jump water and we'll take considerable time to teach them to get into the water and walk across. This is a control issue. Ideally your horse will do what you want, whether that means walking through a small creek or leaping over a bold stream or galloping across a bridge.

It may be obvious to say that practice with dry ditches and banks can be a useful strategy before trying to deal with water.

You will notice that with these pieces of text the foxhunting story-teller is in full flight with every water course being exceptionally large or steep. I suppose the ordinary ones simply aren't worth comment. From Red Coats Galloping by John Welcome:

Jeremy set the chestnut going along the edge of the covert and as he rounded it hounds came pouring out with their Master behind them. Jimmy turned and looked at him and then, with what Jeremy afterwards, on recalling the occasion, was wont to swear was a broad wink, he pulled the peak of his shabby old cap a fraction of an inch nearer his beak of a nose, and hunching his shoulders, sat down to ride.

Side by side behind the racing hounds they took a high narrow bank and then they faced the water. There was no mistaking that the fox had crossed, for hounds were over and racing on. Jeremy, all else forgotten now except the living urge to be with them and to stay with them, picked what he thought looked to be the soundest place and set the chestnut going. The bank was not sound but they got over with a crash and a stagger. Jimmy's weedy-looking mare jumped it like a bird lower down.

And from the same book (although our hero is mounted on a different horse):

After this the country was less good; the fields were smaller and more uneven, the fences straggling and weak and, in some cases, wired. It was as well that the pace slowed down. Hounds were hunting less strongly and they contrived to keep with them. One more experience Jeremy had, however. Coming over the brow of a hill he saw the gleam of water shining through a line of pollarded willows below him.

"Over to the left, sir," said the huntsman who was riding abreast of him. "I'll give you a lead. It's pretty deep. Crack her along at it."
. . . .
The huntsman's horse all but put him back into the brook, but the mare, as usual, took it in her stride and swept on, unchecked. And then, as they topped the rise on the farther side, they saw hounds piling themselves against the base of a fence fifty yards ahead.

And a comment about the other potential hazard related to water, from Anne Fleming's There Goes Charlie: A Rural Murder:

"Now, watch out! We're going down to the river and I reckon we might be fording it down there if it isn't in flood."

The fox they were after seemed unaware of the widespread belief that the Hill foxes stay on the Hill and never descend into the Vale. It led them inexorably downwards to the brooks where the River Pen was foaming and frothing over rocks.

"It may be too deep already," said Mabel. "But if we do wade across, don't forget to kick your animal on hard. Some of them sometimes take it into their heads to lie down in the water, which is humiliating for the rider."

"And wet."

"Exactly."

Yes, these moments are the fodder of foxhunting tales. The ignominious ducking is seldom forgotten. Places may be named and forever referred to as "the place that John Doe's horse laid down with him."