Fried To Champion

Is there anything better than the night before a show? All the possibility lying in front of you when even a bad trip is still a day outside on a horse. Joy creeps up on you when the beginning of the season lays out waiting to see what will happen.

I decided on show morning it was time for Bandon to move-up to actually being ridden in the warm-up ring. For those that don't know, warm-up is an entire afternoon's worth of riders of different levels with horses of different experience crammed in getting the nerves out of themselves (or their horses) and maybe attempting to fly over some jumps without wrecking.

Everybody is moving, in close quarters. For an off-track who is only schooled alone at home, this is a bit of a shock.

Before now I'd walk Bandon fully tacked around the arena to let him get a feel for the place before chaos erupted. I might back him once or twice, then get out of there. I mount at my trailer, and we warm-up in the fields. It was an okay plan, still I felt like we always did better after our first class was over and maybe if I could do that break-in ride in warm-up and he'd already be "on" for the first class.

We entered warm-up at a walk, halfway down the rail Bandon was straining to dance sideways and about that time a horse landed a jump right next to us and proceeded to canter off. It was way too much for Bandon. His fuse blew.

I got some circles to calm him and a little trot work before we left the ring. He was tossing his head the way he does when frustration takes hold. We went back in as soon as the ring cleared of all but one pony, and I asked him for a simple two jump line. He landed bucking and was hard to rein in. Backed again. Walked a bit. And warm-up was closed, our class was next.

Bandon was not at all mentally calm and we managed to disagree through two classes before a small jumping round where Bandon hit the end line at a dead run and coming off the last fence. I had no control except to one rein stop him. Deep breath, I hadn't come off and he was stopped, I asked for a nice long trot circle before exiting the ring.

With a blown fuse it was anybody's guess what to do. Time seems to heal it more than any action I've tried in the past so I sat on him under a tree awhile then took him to the side and asked for walk circles - verbally scolding the violent head tosses - then back under our tree. We did this until I was getting trot circles off to the side with no head tosses and I could halt him from a trot.

Next class I had the same jump line that he bolted on (a straight line heading for the entrance gate) and I made a plan to jump the second to the last fence, then immediately pull him off the line, circle another fence, and approach the last jump. I was riding now for training purposes and not worried about the judge. It worked. He was listening and softer. Every class after that he improved until we won a jumping round, won a flat class, and ultimately won a Championship in that division.

Looking back it's easy to see that some time and patience helped me succeed with him and it all sounds pretty plain. That's not being very fair to a rider reading this though and I'm compelled to add that a peek in my mind shows that this almost didn't happen at all.

I'm human. I think the things you think too. I sat on my horse after the last bad round, a horse who was no longer responding predictably, and I immediately thought I should scratch the day and haul home. I was mentally pouting while my face was smiling. Not only did I feel like I'd screwed up seriously by asking for the warm-up ring he clearly wasn't ready for, I was afraid. Dead running towards a jump wasn't a feeling I wanted to repeat.

I'd blown it. All the anticipation, the rides, the fees, the late night horse bath just to get ready, trailer packing, tack cleaning, for a terrible ride that showed my horse a bad experience and scared me.

Bandon, wearing the cooler that Whisper won years ago, after his pre-show bath

Then I reached down and draped my arms around his heavily-shedding neck and realized that he hadn't thrown me. Yes, his mind had clicked back to a place I didn't want it to be (demonstrated again when he pinned ears and tried to bite his TB show buddy) and I wasn't sure how to train out of it, but so what. Make a plan and get something done. Now.

And boy did he. Walking back to the trailer with our ribbons in hand a lady asked me if that was the same horse I'd been on earlier, I was proud to say it was.

Writer's note : Rivermont Farm shows now work with the Jockey Club and offer their Thoroughbred Incentive Program!