March Hunt

Hunter Paces are the most fun I think I've ever had on a horse, the 2012 one on Scooter certainly was. After Czech and I had some successful trail rides together, paces seemed like a great option for us. In Unison Farms puts on a pace twice a year at Kingston Downs, home of the Atlanta Steeplechase. Czech, my teammates, and I were greeted with perfect Spring morning weather to start our adventure.

All tacked up and ready to go, I was riding with friends Cindy, Elsa, and Devanee for the day on horses that Czech had ridden trails with before.

Once I was up, one of our team horses that was tied to the trailer, spooked and sat back. I was a few yards behind him on Czech when he spun to take off running and it was way more than Czech's brain was ready for. As the Appaloosa went one way, we went another, Czech sidestepping, rearing, and bucking in place. Directing his energy forward in another direction wasn't working over time, so I got off to longe him down a bit and he calmed.

However, about a mile in to the pace, it was clear that we were both miserable. Czech could not settle. Given loose rein, he ran. We tried putting a horse directly in front of him, and two on either side. He pressed his chest into the lead horse's hindquarters so hard I was sure he was about to get his face kicked. We led for a little while and that didn't quite work either as we were turned sideways and still he jigged forward as the sweat that was dripping from him turned to thick lather.

I got off to walk him on foot awhile to see if I could get his brain back and when it was clear that wasn't working, I turned him back on my own on foot. I met a lot of really nice people walking my kite of a horse back up the hills we had ridden down. They all first asked if I was okay, then looked at my  horse and said, "Wow, not his day, I've had one of those before..." A few even recommended drug manufacturers.

There was a lot of time to think as we made our way. Mostly I thought about the skin my tall boots had ripped off, cursing cheap boot manufacturers, but I also thought about Czech. I wasn't disappointed it had gone badly so much for me, what is it that he wanted to do? Such an athletic, curious, intelligent horse had to have something that fit him as a job.

As we crested the final hill and arrived at the start line, the official offered us a re-ride. Czech had seemed to calm a bit and maybe he would do better riding totally alone, like I ride him at home. Standing on the starter's truck tailgate to get back on, we went for it.

And Czech did do better alone, at first. We walked a bit and I let him run. Out there in open country running on my horse was AWESOME. As we came to boggy places though, I had trouble slowing him, then we found ourselves right back where we were before, no ability to think. As the trail dried out, I asked him for trot and he took off. Chin touching his neck, there wasn't any slowing him. I pulled him onto a circle and tried to work through it, not having any success and feeling he was dangerous, I bailed.

So there I was, on foot. Again. This time two miles out. I began to seriously question my life choices.

It was a long walk back. A walk that will forever change my packing for a ride out to include thick bandaids. A few times I lengthened my stirrup as long as it would go and mounted back up on my tall boy from the ground, and each time he turned into crazy horse under my seat. For the final hills back to the start again, I mounted and let him just go on, at the start line a handler caught his reins to stop him as I put him on a circle.

Handwalking him back to the trailer, I worried about my saturated froth covered horse. Looking closer though it was clear he wasn't even breathing hard. All that hill work over the last 14 days must have paid off to have him in good shape... wait. Fit. My horse was really fit, dang. Maybe I should have just let him get lazy and fat and then hauled. Either way the well-meaning people that passed me as I walked my horse on foot backwards along the course, had no idea what they were saying when they commented that he'd work down if I just let him run it out.

As soon as I was reunited with my group, feeling pretty glum, sore, and generally miffed, the first thing Elsa says to me is, "What was your favorite thing?". That solo run out there was spectacular. And my mood lifted (helped along by removing the boots made by Satan) there on a sunny day with horses and friends.

So, Czech and I won't be winning any Hunter Pace ribbons anytime soon. The open fields were simply too much for his mind to handle. Horses running around, a general excitement in the air, maybe it was his cross country training before that makes him lose control. Maybe it'll get better over time, or maybe we'll find a sport my big horse really loves. If there were an award for tenacity though, we won it hands-down.