The Story that Never Was: Part Three

Need to catch up? Read Part One and Part Two.
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You and your horse. His strength and beauty. Your knowledge and patience and determination. And understanding. And love. That's what fuses the two of you into this marvelous partnership that makes you wonder, what can Heaven offer any better than what you have here on earth? (Monica Dickens)

Handling a horse on the ground is completely different than actually sitting on its back. Whether you're walking said horse in a circle or warming it up for four foot fences, there is a difference between the horse you have encountered on the ground and the Horse you will encounter in the saddle. Now, I loved Jake-the little Quarter Horsepony that Donna had brought to Carousel Farm- but I only knew him from the ground.

Riding Jake was a much different experience. Not inherently being a school horse (or even an English horse for that matter), his gaits were not something I was used to. Horses that have not been beaten thin by years of mediocre students learning to ride have much more impulsion than those who have. They are also much more sensitive to the aids. And as a Western-trained horse, he moved in a perceptibly different way. It was like switching from a used Toyota Corolla to a brand new Subaru sedan.

Jake's vices on the ground held up under saddle- but only so far as the other horses were concerned. He wasn't particularly interested in being a hunter/jumper, but he did have a natural talent. In the ring, my trainer Shannon no longer called him the "SuperBrat" but instead "Super Star." And Super Star he was. He could be stubborn in the beginning of lessons, but once he got warmed up, he really shined. He seemed to dance over ground poles and leap over jumps like a graceful strike of lightning. Jake could make the most inexperienced rider look fabulous. He was green, to be sure, though; he could overreact at a shadow or a misplaced aid, he could get bored and act up. If the lesson lasted longer than he liked, he would simply stop (sometimes from a nice, even canter), toss his head, and stamp his foot. I've had enough, he seemed to say. Could we please leave now? He could be temperamental and he still had volumes to learn, but there was some instinct in him to do his best (and have fun doing it) that made him a pleasure to ride.

It was obvious to everyone that I loved him. I patiently put up with his mood swings on the ground and his misdemeanors in lessons. He had a lot to learn about English riding; I had a lot to learn about riding real horses. Our lessons were what you could call an educational experience. We worked well together. Sure, we had our missteps along the way, but we always ended our rides with some profound knowledge gained- and this at a barn where even a superficial lesson was rare.

It had been a few months since I had started riding Jake when Donna decided that it was time: the school horses had settled in, the riders had returned, and Carousel Farms was back in business. Only one thing would make it official... A horse show.

And thus Jake and I began training towards our next goal: competing in a hunter class at his first show.

[To be continued]