Articles Written 80
Article Views 90,730

Holly Covey


Become an Eventing Nation Blogger

About Holly Covey

Latest Articles Written

Following the Dots: On Paths, Planning and Progress

Winter is a great time to meditate on plans, paths and the “Long Road.” Photo by Holly Covey.

New year, new approach to training? Maybe.

Sometimes, when you look at a season from the beginning to the end, and make all sorts of plans for yourself and your horse, it all looks clear. The dots are there. The lines are straight, from dot to dot. You’re going to this, and that. The horse will go here, and then there. We will qualify at dot, dot, and dot. Then we will compete at dot, and dot, to prepare. Then there is big dot, perhaps at the end of the season, with a red circle around it.

Yet, when you look at a season, it’s not always a straight line in between those dots. More like curves and spirals and some loops backwards. We actually HOPE we can get to big dot in the season.

So how do we get this stuff going our way? We take out the freebie feed store calendar, and start checking with local stables on the upcoming schooling shows, look at booking vacation around competitions, and put a finger on general pieces of the calendar where you have to get a cross country school in or work toward a clinic weekend. And that’s all just for one horse. Maybe you have two or three and each is going in a different direction. It’s like calendar tetris!

I have to continually remind myself about the “why” of doing this. We are not supposed just go to a show to go to a show. We are supposed to get to a show to test what we are working on. The competitions are meant to educate — show us the holes, teach us the failings and the things that need practice in both our riding and in our horses’ education. We’re not supposed to just go because they’re there.

I think this goes to the heart of the “move-up” question. The cool thing about eventing is that we aren’t locked down, like low level hunter schooling shows, to a pretty rigid sort of course design (outside-diagonal, or some variation thereof). Our divisions are different from event to event — what’s easy at one event is hard at another, some events are great for everyone trying it for the first time, some events are very difficult for the level and meant to prepare a rider for the next higher division.

It is this very diversity that makes eventing competition so fun and educational. I think that is the reason we have this “move-up” mentality, because we overcome different courses all the time. We count on the education at one event making us ready for the next. In contrast, our friends in the hunter world work on perfection. Their move-up slows; they spend a lot more time doing those outside-diagonal-outside-diagonal courses than we do, looking for excellence in detail. Or perhaps they feel more comfortable with the challenge of getting it consistently excellent.

Both ideals go someplace and require strength of purpose, attention to detail, a drive to succeed and courage to keep trying when you don’t get it right. Where I get concerned is the lack of trying to get better, and letting the competition just “be there.” That does nothing for me as a rider except make me dangerously comfortable right where I am. What’s the danger in that? The danger is I may lose that drive to educate myself. Should we do shows just to do shows? My feeling is we shouldn’t.

Of course, there are many reasons for folks to stay at the same level for years and years. Heck, yeah, I get that. There are some Novice courses that pretty much masquerade at the level, and you cross the finish line on cross country and go, “Where’s Training level, it can’t get much harder than THAT was!”

A friend of mine coined the phrase, “Be a student of the Long Road,” and I think of this saying often. I watch the local shows, I learn by watching, I go home, I ride and train. I think of the Long Road. Where I want to be at the end of the season. Where I want to be at the end of three seasons ahead. My challenge is to take each show, each course, and put it squarely in the middle of that Long Road, and see how it gets me down that line, from dot to dot.

The Christmas Message

Christmas snow at a former family farm. Photo by Holly Covey.

Yeah, well, I snuck a couple of Christmas cookies for breakfast along with my coffee, so I’m wired up to write a big long holiday blog all about exciting stuff, but, I did a bad thing. I went looking in an old box of photos for a picture to illustrate this blog, and it got all sad and bad.

My goal was to find a picture of myself and my horses on a long past Christmas day and share it with you, and talk about how much fun Christmas and the holidays were when I was young and we had our first horses. We had no idea then that horses might be with us the rest of our lives. We didn’t think of the future, the way animals might age, and change, and leave our lives and with that leaving, cause us grief and pain. We didn’t have any idea about growing up and being an adult and paying for the things we wanted, and having to deal with supporting ourselves. And how horses are not an easy part of that.

If I could give all of my fossil-class eventers some advice: Don’t go looking at old photos this time of year, unless you are into the eggnog and have loved ones near. It’s pretty hard. For those of you still young in this sport, start saving those Christmas day photos now, and make sure you’re in a few of them.

I kept looking and realized all the photos were of others and places and trees and animals, and none of me. Mostly because I was the one behind the camera and not in front of it. I was always looking for beauty and I sort of have that habit today, of always looking for a the pretty scene or the right shot. That’s what photographers do. But in a way that’s the fun of holidays, finding the beauty of the things around you, and giving it back to others.

We call that sharing.

In this sport, we pride ourselves on our sharing. From the moment you arrive at an event, and park next to other eventers, you start to share. Help hold the horse so your neighbor can mount. Ask if anyone would like a cup of hot coffee from your thermos. Chat about where they are from, and how far it took to get here. Oh the stories I could tell, the places I’ve been, but there’s no time for that now, we have to walk a course. And we share information about the course — “look out for the hole between fence 5 and 6” — and be careful in warmup, the corner is slick, and … share a smile … share a “good ride” … share a hug with friends who finally got through cross country without a stop.

And we share sympathy with terrible losses, and we share empathy and commiserate when things don’t go to plan, and we share support when stuff happens that seems wrong and inconsiderate and shameful. We offer ourselves, our horsie beings, our hope that things will be better next time. We stay optimistic for others and keep thinking positive, even when it’s like, really adulting hard to do that. Nobody said sharing was always easy to do.

People who have shared with me have created some of the most wonderful memories of my life. People like my dear friends who have given me horses and stuck with me when all seemed hopeless, and the people behind eventing-centric businesses like Waredaca Farm and Plantation Field.

I remember jump-judging in April at Plantation Field, and just taking in the beauty of that green grass and thinking, “I want to ride over a course again here before I die,” and getting the chance to do it one year later. How lucky that this facility (and all eventing facilities are) is open to all who want to compete, how generous that the landowner shares this incredible place with all of us eventers. I remember feeling odd when I pulled in to park at Waredaca this year, usually I get those little butterflies in my stomach, but all I felt was gratitude — that after 10 years and losing my lifetime unicorn horse, that life handed me another unicorn, and there I was — competing again. There’s no dollar figure on that gift.

So mostly in this sport, if you look at it the right way, we get shared with a lot more than we share out. To fix that, many of us share back to the sport, by giving time, giving services, giving goods to silent auctions to raise funds for the kids or scholarships or other good causes. All seems to work as it should, as long as you don’t get sucked into reading the expert armchair commentary on the social media outlets (where their definition of sharing is word vomit you’re all supposed to take as gospel on high). (Anti-sharing.) This time of year when I have some time to read a little, I try very hard to keep the purpose of the season in mind while getting through six pages of crap I know not to be true.

So let’s end on a note that makes us happy to be here and grateful for our sport and the relationships we cherish within it. Share not just this holiday season, but try to find a way to make sharing meaningful this year. Eventing faces some stresses, we are losing land for cross country courses and we are losing events. Our breeders are losing business overseas, our riders are working too hard to share much. Our organizers and sponsors share as much as they can without giving away everything. So let’s help one another and share a bit to help a lot.

Here’s a few ways we can share all year round:

Volunteer at an event; volunteer for your Area; volunteer for a committee; volunteering drives just about everything in this sport, because it takes financial stress off organized event competitions. If you can support a local tack shop, do so. Take a look at the sponsors listed on your favorite rider’s page and support them when you make your next order. Tell people when you see a nice horse for sale, not for a commission, but to help a friend who bred that nice colt. Take a working student out for dinner or bring lunch to the barn for everyone, or think of something you can do that helps in some way make someone else’s life a bit easier. Do a favor for someone and don’t expect anything in return. Be nice. Be courteous. That’s sharing, too, creating an atmosphere of kindness — it rubs off. (Something I personally must remember to do more often.)

Think about how it felt those many Christmases ago when things were different, and there was no stress and no bills and no worries but just a pony waiting in the paddock for you after all the stuff under the tree got handed out. I remember that Christmas day ride through the neighborhood with leftover ribbon from Christmas presents tied in the mane and tail, and all your friends had ponies and horses with ribbons, too. And that one day we just rode and enjoyed the cold day and were friends forever and it was the best Christmas.

Being there. The best sharing of all.

Merry Christmas.


Winter Survival and the Art of Not Caring

I was freezing in this photo. Photo by Holly Covey.

Stay sane, my friends, and don’t get jealous when everyone evacuates to the south to ride in warm weather with only one layer on. Don’t go stark raving mad when the faucet in the barn is frozen AGAIN. Keep calm and carry on when the only heavy blanket your Master Shredder has is pretty much in pieces, blowing across the paddock, when you arrive at the barn after work.

Yes, my friends, there is an important mental task to practice in the winter. The Art of Not Caring. Water off a duck’s back. The “so what” attitude. Que sera, sera … uhm, yeah. Sometimes, in the muffly folds of my scarf pulled over my nose and mouth, I scream away all my frustration with the weather — and no one can hear. And the fuzzy bits taste like hay and horse snot so there is a double reason to not let it bother me.

Winter for us in the north means “let’s ride bareback” instead of “gymnastic jump school” today. It sort of takes your gumption (and your breath) away when the wind blows about 25mph in 29 degrees Fahrenheit, so more often than not, riding time turns into Fix the Faucet time, chip the ice from the barn door time, load extra hay into stalls time, and block the wind from the broken window in the tack room time.

Even the little animals find nice little spots to stay warm, like the feral cat that jumped on my head in the dark hay room last night and caused me to fall over the wheelbarrow, with an armful of hay spilling all over. And the mouse in the feed can that ran up my arm when I lifted the scoop of grain. And some happy little birdie staying warm obviously by perching on Hamish’s broad warm back (the poop spots on his new blanket gives you away, Little Birdie).

So … instead of trying to ride just go inside and shop that tack sale online! Sure, why not. Take a look at the 2018 eventing calendar. Look up clinics on social media and see who is galloping down over the four-foot oxers making them look like nothing. Watch videos ’til your data runs out. Get in political arguments with friends on Facebook. Yes, passing the time keeps you from caring about riding and keeping the training up. For a short while.

If you don’t have an indoor, you’re really going to have to take pills to stay calm about the training … you look out the window and watch the wind blow the bare tree branches sideways. The snow is blowing up your nose. You check the forecast and it says there might be a 30-degree day the middle of next week and you start making plans. If I can squeeze those double layer Carhartts over my windpros and cuddle duds and find my silk glove liners, maybe I can ride for 15 minutes.

In years past I have trained throughout most of our winters especially when they were mild. It is a struggle to find daylight this time of year to ride, and it’s difficult when it’s cold and windy like it is today. I dream about having a job that allows me a real vacation to go to Aiken, or be able to afford to ride in an indoor all winter. The thing is, it’s still cold in the south, and it’s still cold if you have an indoor — and there are other drawbacks all the time to keeping on a riding schedule and working toward a goal, some warmer/drier than others. I have to calm down about missing training days. Nobody will die if I don’t ride.

How about you? Do you laugh it off, or struggle to keep from worrying to death over breaks in your schedule? I am trying very hard not to panic. I’ll get that arena out there thawed some day. That topline will return … someday. Those trot extensions will just have to look good in pasture when the plastic bag blows under his belly, rather than feel great under saddle. Yes, I can master the Not Caring attitude. Sure. (Stuffs glove in mouth to keep from screaming.)

A PSA to Eventing’s Armchair Quarterbacks: If You’re Not Doing This, You Don’t Get to Talk

Eventing is HARD. Don’t let anyone tell you different.

Full Moon Farm Horse Trials on Sunday morning. Photo by Holly Covey.

After the glow of the big win at Waredaca, I entered the very last Area II event of the season at Full Moon Farm. This is a legendary “last hurrah” in our area, being scheduled for the second weekend in November, when weather could be anything. In years past, the hardy souls who have competed there come ready for snow, heat, wind, rain and cold.

We were delighted with only cold this year; the frosty parking field slid a few trucks around but a helpful parking person suggested putting it in four wheel drive while on the gravel road (which I did) and the parking was non eventful. So the beginning of the day, and the end of the day went well for me but just about everything in between wasn’t quite as successful. More on that below. First, a couple of thoughts, and because I am a Fossil, I get to have an opinion based on experience.

I evented back in the ’80s and ’90s.  I watched a lot as a journalist and spectator, too, in addition to riding in events. I can tell you that there is a big difference in the way events are run today and the way they were managed then.

The entire experience today is a long way from the rough and ready stuff we used to be subject to, and I for one am glad of it. Our horses weren’t always the first thought back then, but I am happy to say in my experience as a 40-year-plus horsewoman, today there is a much different adherence to horsemanship principles in our sport and that’s a good thing.

There is much safer course design for both show jumping and cross country at the lowest levels, which are what I primarily see and compete in. I cannot understand the criticism and nay-saying of people who do not challenge themselves in these events as they are conducted today. The rules keep it fair, but the competition is intense and to a high standard! The footing requirements, the angles, placement, height, width and construction of the cross-country courses is NOTHING like it was 30-40 years ago. We don’t need to impress anyone in this sport; we’ve paid our dues. Now we are looking for excellence — across the board — in all divisions from our Starter/Amoeba levels on up. Doing it WELL matters in eventing now.

In the days, “git’r dun” was the overriding mantra. Those today who are whining about “endurance” obviously haven’t gotten up at 4:30 a.m., driven two to three hours on the interstate with three or four precious horses in a 26-foot trailer, organized three riders, walked three cross-country courses, and ridden a dressage test before 8:30 a.m.

Obviously, those who complain about “events today” haven’t seen the hours and number of volunteers who have been working for weeks on the footing and the cross country jumps and the dressage arena and the show jumps. Where are the complainers when the parking lot volunteers are in two layers of Carhartts in the dark helping people park those big trailers with precious horses. What part of this sport do you get to complain about?

Those people who showed up to compete are the ones who really get to talk. They are the ones who have it all on the line, not you. They are the ones who do the hard work schooling and training at home to be ready to the high standard required of recognized competition today. The standards are higher. The work is harder. The endurance, skill, competition requirements far eclipse the events I attended three decades ago. I would rather listen to a rider who has completed a recognized Novice right now, than the highest Grand Eventing Poobah.

You can no longer skate around cross-country looking dangerous but getting between the flags, and get a ribbon in recognized competition (at least in Area II) today. Today, in our eventing, you have to be good at dressage, good at show jumping, and good at cross country to be close to the top of the classification, and I’m here to say THAT IS THE WAY IT SHOULD BE. I don’t want to lay down a lovely dressage test, have a perfect show jump round, and a good cross country and get beat by someone who had a crappy dressage test or dangerous show jumping round. Just because they have more “endurance” by some outsider’s cockamamy standard. The people I compete against work hard. They are good. They can ride. It’s an insult to say that we need to add anything to the sport, to change it by going backwards because someone is nostalgic for the good old days.

It’s hard as it is to get it just right in all three phases, and that’s why we love it. As horsepeople we embrace this unique three-way challenge that our sport provides. We may have been attracted to it by the fun of the cross country, but the intrigue of good dressage basics and the difficulty of achieving a perfect show jumping round kept it interesting. No longer is it enough to have “just OK.” You have to be good at withstanding the pressure of competition, too, as the sport has doubled in growth since the ’70s, too. The standards are all ratcheted upward and should be. No longer are we “just passing through” the dressage arena and show jumping arenas so we can get out on the cross country field.

So, the last event of the season in Area II was a good place for me to get out some of my thoughts, and the conclusion I have come to is this: you non-riders and non-eventers that somehow get to drive the emphasis in this sport need to shut the hell up. You need to come to a recognized event with a hundred smiling volunteers despite the fact that it is 29 degrees. You need to park in the frosty field and watch beginning riders warm up horses on a side hill for dressage, trainers courteously working with students and each other, all happy to be here yet sad it’s the last event of the season.

You need to see a carefully prepared cross country course with ice in the water jump and beautiful decorations that were lovingly placed by volunteers. You need to show jump in a greasy field with landing divots that your horse cleverly avoids by jumping off to the side. You need to walk a course in 29 degrees. You need to sit by a firepot and warm your backside and talk to friends who also got up at 4:30 a.m. You need to see four dressage arenas running on time, like clockwork, and one bundled up dressage warmup steward in the field keeping it all going with a smile, all day long. You complainers, where are you? You need to be with the organizers and course designer out in the field watching all day, monitoring every single horse and rider, ready for anything, but having constructed courses with years of experience behind them, knowing good riding and proper preparation by the competitors will make your day boring.

You complainers: You need to see eventing as it is. Today. A sport with a bunch of really great people in it, working really hard to keep it great. A sport with a bunch of really good riders from Starter on up who care and know they have to work hard at home to be good in all three phases. A sport that isn’t looking backward for future questions, but that is building on the expertise and experience of its most engaged leaders, people who listen, people who lead, people who have shown by example what it means to volunteer, to change the rules for the better, lift all the boats with their own rising tide of excellence.

So, I’ve made you read all of this two cents before I got to my own summation of the day, and I can tell you that mistake after mistake sandwiched by the good parking spot and great cross country round pushed my results to a third place finish. While I misread my watch and was an hour early for dressage — then had a fairly poor show jumping round which was thankfully missed by most of my friends — the cross country rode so well and it was great to have Hamish pull me up and down the hills.

He’s getting fans, people keep telling me they love watching him — I think it’s just his big ol’ tail — but I am darn near sad we don’t get to compete any more this year. There are things I need to fix and I want to get them right! I can’t wait for the first events of the season next year. I had a great time competing this year and the sport just keeps getting better. No complaints. Back to work over the winter — see all of you real eventers again in 2018.

Go Eventing.

No-Stirrup November … No Thank You!

Today marks the beginning of the equestrian world’s least beloved annual tradition, No-Stirrup November. Riding sans stirrups has obvious benefits — the promise of thighs of steel and a velcro butt in a month’s time … who can resist the allure of that?

Holly Covey, that’s who. She ain’t buying it. Holly charmed us with this delightfully grumpy tirade against No-Stirrup November. Enjoy and look for more of her writing on Blogger’s Row!

Photo courtesy of Holly Covey.

No-stirrups November has all the charm and attraction of a root canal for me. Yeah, right, SUUUURRRE, I’m going to ride without stirrups on my hairy, out of work, grain-fed happy little fatsos on a frigid and dark evening after a slogging long day at work.

No-stress November is more what I am searching for. Like somebody I can text that will have both my wildebeests caught up from their outback prairie, groomed to a shine and tacked up ready to ride in the sparkling, lighted indoor. Whoops, oh, that was last week’s fantasy. This week we just settle for getting the mud off where the saddle pad and girth have to go.

And they want me to take my stirrups off my saddle. In the dark of night, when it’s trending toward 45 degrees, and my fingers and toes are no longer sending back “alive” signals to my brain. Yeah, RIGHT. I’m going to lie about riding without stirrups all day long. You betcha. Simple survival here.

The thing is, I know the no-stirrup thing is good for you, but … so is a root canal, if you really like full size Snickers in your Halloween trick or treat bucket. There is no gain without pain. I’d watch an entire afternoon of bad B movies if I thought it would help me stay on over a big oxer, but honestly, riding without stirrups is going to do more to undo all my hard work of staying in the saddle than it will help. I’m certain of it.

It’s the feeling of needing to cling — HARD — when one of my excuses-for-event-horses decides the neighbor’s plastic bag of trash floating gently on the breeze past him is not entirely to be trusted. It’s the screaming quads that won’t leave me alone all day at work the next day. And it’s the pushing-the-envelope mentality that frankly keeps me from toying with the loss of proper vertical order. I’m chicken in my old age.

Those of you with young, elastic bodies that bounce, look away. You don’t need to see what’s coming next. Not to scare anyone, but when you age, you can’t stay on a bucking horse like you used to be able to. No, those suction cup legs fade away somewhere down there below the 44D’s, and the wrinkles and sags now become your finest asset in the saddle. Your butt sticks to the saddle on purpose because you need to keep it there or your lawyer will be expecting a visit from your heirs. Like fine wine, your equitation ages to the point where losing your stirrups becomes a feared and inevitably fateful enterprise. So NO ONE who is old, and still doing what passes for riding, does it on purpose, Grasshopper.

No, us old-timers are deeply concerned about the whole concept of riding without all convenient accessories that come with our saddles. We pay for those stirrups, by God, we’re using them. I’ll exercise my 2nd Amendment to keep any individual from taking away my constitutional right to stirrups. (Hmm. Good idea for a bumper sticker, eh?) It’s better for my horses. It’s better for my family. It’s better for my mortgage, my boss at work, my bank account, my doctor and my hairdresser if I ride with those stirrups.

Of course I can probably stay on without them — for a while — well, for a few moments — maybe seconds … but I know there’s no need to be trying to prove anything at my age and experience level. My horses also have strong feelings about the potential loss of vertical order in the universe, and those cunning bastards live for the day I lose grip and slide sideways. With glee they will take immediate advantage, of that I am so sure. This is the reason I keep a handful of peppermint treats in my pocket. It is my safety device of last resort; and the horses KNOW they are there. (It seems to be working so far.)

All due respect to Leslie Wylie, whose no-stirrup exploit on the Mongolian steppe is the stuff of complete legend, but I’ll never ever live up to that stratospheric standard. I don’t even know someone who could ride a whole day without stirrups. And still have intact reproductive organs and a brain that functioned reasonably well. So Leslie, you’re the gold standard, babe, when it comes to stirrupless conquest.

LW: At least some good came out of it! Photo courtesy of Leslie Wylie.

No-stirrup November is a delightful idea someone bored with a well-lit, softly footed indoor arena thought up while riding their smooth-as-silk warmblood around in tiny circles, with lots and lots of health insurance with no deductibles or copays. My OTTB yaks can’t wait for November, they have been plotting revenge for months. When that saddle sans stirrups is strapped on, I can feel the energy ramp up, the eyeballs roll, the gerbils hit that wheel … the clock starts ticking down to Event Horse Revenge Day. I’m doomed!

So this year, I’m chucking the whole idea. Instead, I’ll do 30 seconds more planking each day to make up for it. Or maybe I’ll just do the little teeny Snickers instead of the full-sized ones. No, that’s a bad idea. Forget I said that. Just the planking ought to do it. Sorry, dear horses, no Revenge day this November. That’ll have to wait until First Water Jump of Spring. (Yikes!) Go eventing — with stirrups!

The Morning After

Photo by Lisa Samoylenko. Donna Bottner, Hamish and I all watching video of XC. Photo by Lisa Samoylenko. Donna Bottner, Hamish and I all watching video of XC.

Yes, there is an eventing hangover. You get it from being on social media too much, watching your videos from friends over and over again, and re-riding your cross country course in your head driving all the way home and laying in bed trying to fall asleep. You wake up with a sore back, tired, and how that knee feels isn’t going to make the day wonderful, but there’s a blue ribbon on the desk from yesterday and that’s all I’m going to think about!

Photo by Lisa Samoylenko. Donna Bottner, Hamish and I all watching video of cross country.

It’s Monday and I am still walking about trying to wake up and remember where I am, but I’ve got a dressage test with 8s on it to remind me where I was yesterday — that was at a recognized horse trial — and what happened — Hamish won. What a great day. You don’t realize until it’s in the rearview mirror how great that dressage test was, how fun cross country was, and how you pulled off a clear round in show jumping. It sinks in slowly.

It’s still good to remember that while it was fun and we did great, I had some mistakes, and a good, well trained horse jumped me out of them. My mistakes were still the same sort of old mistakes I have been making so I need to try very hard to break habits. Creating new, better habits!

I’m not going to take you through the blow-by-blow. I’d rather talk about the things at an event that don’t always go right, and what I notice that I do to sort of not worry about them.

Dressage: When you are late to warm up to dressage, just flow with it; make a few transitions, run through the gaits, bend right and left. Eventing tests are simple and short. If someone cuts you off in the warmup use it as an excuse to make a transition. Don’t let them rattle you. Transitions come up quickly in eventing dressage tests so it’s never wrong to make a bundle of them as you warmup, and a busy warmup area is a good thing, it makes you pay attention and ride better.  I like a busy warmup. It is good for practicing focus.

Cross Country: If something isn’t perfectly perfect on cross country don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater. Shorten your reins, turn your toes out, (so your spur can make contact), and go forward.  (That’s a Jack LeGoff-ism, by the way). It’s cross country. It’s not for those who love riding in the arena and being perfectly posed. It’s for those who love the gallop and the wind and the bugs in your teeth. Get on with it. Who cares what it looks like. Plenty of times, people have won ribbons with one stop, so gather your wits and carry on.

Don’t get too picky. Sometimes just clunking over it is fine. Be present, ride smart, and even a horse that’s never schooled a course before will get it if you trust them. I think this is overlooked. You can make mistakes on a horse and still expect them to get the job done. It may be oversimplifying the concept of riding cross country, but even at the lowest levels (and I would think especially at the lower levels) one should expect an event horse to be bold about jumping anything you point them at. Ride them like they’ll go, not like they won’t go.

One thing I have learned about cross country is that even a horse you really think you know may surprise you, both in good and bad ways. Hamish really LOOKED at the road crossing with the cornstalks, and he really looked at a yellow table with bright flowers, both of which I have at home in my ring and jump regularly. And when we were at the start box, getting our countdown, he pooped. I was so proud of him … to me, it was a sign he knew he was going cross country — I almost cried I was so happy and couldn’t punch my watch until five seconds before instead of 10, I was so excited over the timing of the poop. (Do you see why us amateurs make trainers crazy?)

When the schedule is different from what you are normally expecting, roll with it. I have a friend who makes up her own off-track Thoroughbreds and has two now she’s brought up the levels to Preliminary and beyond. She said the same thing I thought — that finding out how your horse is to show jump after XC is pretty good to know. It would be better to know that at a horse trial than at a very big three day event that took months to get to. Don’t let learning opportunities escape you at horse trials, there are lots of them.

Show jumping: You can miss distances without too much pain if you have a good pace, a good jumping horse, and good instruction that provides you with tools in your toolbox. Although the tools are different with each horse, having them in your mental kit and being able to use them is very positive.

Having someone who helps you when it’s not coming together in the warmup it very comforting, but we each have to ride our own horses, and we have to establish the tools, practice using them, and then take them in the ring with us to use (without reminders). In the ring, if the habit of creating the correct canter is ingrained, then you get to feel the joy of having a clean round even if you miss at an oxer or two … or three … It’s only about two minutes and eight or nine speed bumps. We can do better and we need to practice show jumping more. I had only one jumping lesson prior to this horse trial and could have used three more lessons. It’s not enough to jump once a week!

So, after a pretty good dressage (well, the lowest of the event, undeniable brag there), a good cross country (with some mistakes), and a good show jump round (with some mistakes) we got to see our name at the top of the list and came home with a blue ribbon and loot. Yes, it is great and yes, it is fun to win; that never gets old. But I know that there are metrics for performance I’d like to meet, and I still need to fix things and work on stuff. No one can ride for me. It’s my task to be as good as I can be as a rider for my horse. I get one moment to gloat, feed apples to Hamish, and bask in glory here and that’s it — on with the work. Thanks — everyone!

What We Know

Find a field. Photo by Holly Covey.

I’m sitting here, waiting on slow internet, wasting life minutes, and I always think about my horses, and what I can do when I get home, and what I should work on when I ride today, etc. And, of course, thinking is often dangerous with an eventer … and I wonder, what do I really know — I mean REALLY know — about my horses and how to train them?

When you have a super lesson with someone, even if it’s a friend or nobody special bigtime Team rider, and have a breakthrough, you think, “Ah ha! This is it! I’ve unlocked the secret of the universe!” because that’s how it feels to have a lightbulb moment in your riding.

Taking a quick trip down memory lane, a lot of my lightbulb moments have come NOT in the clinics with the BNTs. But most have come very unexpectedly at unlikely times. At home, schooling in the rain. Sitting on a cold bench in the wind listening to a coach patiently work with a frazzled rider in the warmup ring at an event. Cantering around aimlessly schooling a cross country course on my own. It’s like you get into some kind of zone where the advice all of a sudden makes sense.

I wonder if all along the horses ALL have Grand Prix, Advanced level, or five-foot jumping in them, locked away, and our job as feeling, thinking riders is simply to unlock the locks and find the talent. I know that isn’t actually always true, but I am not sure if my horses don’t know that.

I have a horse that four years ago we thought would only make a foxhunter. Then we thought he’d be a great showring hunter. Now he’s loving — LOVING — the dressage. It took a solid month of INSISTING he go on the bit, and at times, I was really sure if I was doing the right thing. But once he finally understood the meaning of what I wanted, he embraced it. Really embraced it. Offering to go on the bit. Looking for the contact and the assurance. Looking for the support. Seeking my help to balance. I was very unsure — about 50/50 — as to whether I should continue in the first month of working on him. Then once we gradually started to trust each other, it became clearer and clearer that it was what I needed to do.

I don’t know why I persisted, being so unsure. After all, the last time I was unsure I fell off and tore my knee to shreds and cost me a year of rehab. This time I had a little nagging thing in the back of my mind that just kept me to task every time I rode him — ask ask ask, it said — and the horse responded. It’s hard to do that. I didn’t know what the outcome might be. I hoped.

Horses offer these snippets of understanding, these tiny moments of correctness, probably more often than we all know. We are too ignorant or blockheaded or insensitive to see or feel them, and for that, we ask their forgiveness regularly. (Peppermint treats help with that feeling, my horses report.) I wonder what we really know about them, and I wish that I had the book or manual for each horse I ride. What a great day it would be to sit on a horse and know exactly what to do.

There are a couple of things I can offer. Marilyn Payne said in a podcast about judging dressage tests, that “horses can only think of one thing at a time.” I try to remember this every time I ride through my gate to my arena. And another saying from a dear friend who has been messing with horses as long as I have: “You have to be a student of the Long Road.” I remember this when I am frustrated with not getting a result from an aid. And another, from a late friend, which has been long quoted among us oldtimers, “make mistakes going forward.” I think of this when I feel like I am in slow motion and not going anywhere.

So the answer to “what do we know?” is it’s all there, we just uncover it as we go. The horses have it in them. We have to find it. The answer is not buy another horse, try draw reins, change the trainer. The answer is in us. Go somewhere, study, listen, ride by yourself out in a big field and talk to your horse and tell him your secrets. He will let you know what you need to know.

Event Horse Conversations: Jump Day

Event Horse thinking up his next move. Photo by Holly Covey

Here’s a conversation.

Event Horse: You’re going to jump me today.

Me: How do you know?

Event Horse: I just do. I’m clairvoyant that way

Me: No, you’re not. I just put the elastic breastcollar on you with the open front boots. That’s how you know.

Event Horse: Well, if I start coughing and breathing extra hard, can we just go for a walk instead? I’d like to not jump today if it’s all the same to you.

Me: You have to jump. We have a SCHEDULE.

Event Horse: Oh, THAT. That’s right. The SCHEDULE. It’s on the wall in the tack room, right? Can I take a look at it when we get back in the barn?

Me: No. You most certainly cannot. I don’t need you to “lose” a shoe right before the event.

Event Horse: Those always happen purely by accident. I swear.

Me: Yeah, right. Just like you know when I enter something very expensive with a very early closing date and no refunds.

Event Horse: I do have clairvoyance. See?

Me: No, you don’t. You look through the window into the office and see me on the computer on Tuesdays and put two and two together.

Event Horse: I can’t help it. I just have to know what is going on. All the time. Like when you reset the jumping course and put that dreaded Green Roll Top somewhere different.

Me: Oh come on. That thing is about 25 years old and you’ve been jumping it for three years at least. And — it’s only 12 inches high! Big bad event horse … right.

Event Horse: Oh, you don’t know the boogie monsters, trolls, and ghosts that live under that horrid thing! Why, I see one right now, as a matter of fact. Did you make sure you put the neck strap on today? [Whirls]

Me: [Grabs for non-existent strap and goes WAAAAAYYYYYY up the neck] Ooooohhhhhheeeeeeeyyyyyy

Event Horse: Just when you think you are in charge. I am not giving up my throne just yet.

Me: Oh for cripes’ sake! Just for that, you get an extra trot set this week.

Event Horse: No biggie. I can handle it. (Snickers to himself — I know that right front shoe is loose, I’ll work on it tonight in the pasture.)

Me: So, are you warmed up enough? Are you ready to jump?

Event Horse: (Whines) OK, I’ll drop a rail on the first warmup fence. You’ll have to get off, put it back up, and then walk me back to the barn to get back on at the mounting block. While you’re turning me around, I’ll jerk the reins out of your hand and take off through the back of the barn and run out back to eat grass. Then I’ll step on the reins, breaking them. And the flapping stirrup on the saddle will get ripped off when I run real close to the corner fence post. I’ll pretend it scared me and take off bucking down the track. You’ll be really mad, then! You won’t want to jump for at least a week!

Me: (Huffing from running to catch the loose event horse with one stirrup and broken reins) So sorry, my dear. I’m tying a knot in the reins, putting the stirrup back on, going back to the ring and YOU’RE JUMPING ANYWAY.

Event Horse: Really? REALLY? I’ll just loaf along to the ring, here and she’ll change her mind – Oooooh she hit me with a stick! She must REALLY be mad now. I’d better jump a little here. OK, OK, I’m jumping, I’m jumping now! No worries!

Me: We. Are. Going. To. Jump. School. Today. No matter what!

Event Horse: I believe you. Huff, puff. I’m jumping!

Me: OK. That was good. Now we can walk. I’m going to work on the app on the phone that helps me figure out how fast we’re going so we can do our canter and trot sets closer to the proper speed.

Event Horse: Speed? Speed? I’m built for comfort, not for speed. I don’t do “gallop.” Well, I do, but it’s not very fast. Actually, it’s more like a canter. [Thinks to himself]

Me: Don’t you dare fake that limp.

Event Horse: Limp? What limp? Who’s limping? [Thinks to himself]

Me: There, that’s better. You’re doing so well, I think this is a good time to quit for the day. [Scratches withers] Good boy! [Smiles]

Event Horse: I got this. She has no idea … [Smiles]

Fall Is A Perfect Time to Volunteer

Jump judge briefing at O’Dark:30, at Plantation several years ago, photo by Holly Covey

As soon as the nights start to cool and the grass becomes dewy in the morning, I smell that deep morning grass smell and start to get excited for fall volunteer season! Yep, that’s right, I consider it a “season” because so many great autumn horse trials and events happen and it’s become a ritual of mine to be involved.

A friend recently asked me to provide her with a bit of information she could pass on to a group, explaining why volunteering is important and why her group should do it. This was such a simple request but honestly it threw me a little, as I had to think pretty hard about those questions.

I guess the “why” has to do with wanting to be a part of a shared experience that is positive, unlike the terrible storms of Hurricane Harvey and Irma, which also united people in a shared experience which was very difficult and testing. One hopes your volunteer experience in the sport of eventing is not difficult and testing! Instead, the experience should be fun, educational, important to you, and useful to the event and to the sport.

Not every volunteer experience is going to be perfect. I’ve learned, over the years, that standing (or sitting) out in a field all day has its drawbacks. But most of the time, it’s a lot of fun and something that us veteran volunteers do look forward to doing. And here’s a bit of why.

Sharing an experience, the experts tell us, provides us all with a way to respect one another, to enjoy memories, and to feel a part of the action. The draw of volunteering is we all get to see the same event, but in different ways. Our experiences are different – but the same, as we are all at the same event at the same time and place. Beyond the observations and activity, the volunteer has the knowledge they are one of many and that others are seeing and hearing what they are experiencing.

When you share an experience you have a common place to start from, you each know what it was like to be there. That feeling is sort of addictive. I think that is why we return to help year after year. We enjoy being there and with others doing something useful, and it’s not long enough to get tired of the work and just long enough to feel as though your contribution was valued.

Shared experience often means eating, or breaking bread together, which is a bonding mechanism; and interacting with others outside of family and work, which is a growth enabler. That’s a lot of fancy words meaning it’s kind of fun to step outside your familiar circle and do something new. I never had crab bisque before Fair Hill, and I also never knew really how to use a power drill before volunteering. Hey that’s a really useful skill!

So finally in the “why we do it” department, is the educational aspect of working at very high level international events. These events attract the highest qualified riders in the country, and as a result, the riding is at a high level. Watching the warmups, the performances, the adjustments while these riders are mounted on their horses is very enlightening. That’s the riding knowledge. Some of it is quite subtle and takes a lot of watching. The best fun is to watch the top coaches with the riders off in the corner on a circle somewhere; if you can hear the instruction it’s even better. Sit quietly and listen!

Another education: The differences in the conformation of these horses and how they move and how they are put together is neat to see on the jog runway; then you take that set of observations and apply them to what you see on cross-country, in stadium jumping, in dressage. That’s a breeding and conformation education.

And lastly it is also a way to learn about both the importance and pressure of competition and as a volunteer, often you can be in a position to see this drama play out firsthand. It gives you perspective on how people act, how they should act, and unfortunately at times how they should not act. You can learn from that, too. Like a great movie, big events keep us entertained!

So while you sit down and check out the calendar this fall, take a look at and see what days look good for you and consider volunteering! I know they will need you. And you just might find the experience a great one! Don’t miss out. When you smell that scent of fall leaves and crisp air, it’s time to sign up. Go eventing!

Two Unicorns and How The Sport Has Changed

Did you watch videos of horses sailing over those huge Mike E-S oxers at Plantation? Nope, none of those horses were one of my unicorns. How about the incredible win of Kim Severson at Blenheim this weekend? Nope, none of my unicorns got blue ribbons and victory gallops. How about special retired racehorse showcases, jumper shows at the famous Devon oval, big 4-H championships at prestigious horse centers, top quality dressage shows with hundreds trotting down center line … nope, didn’t make it into any of those either.

My two unicorns just helped remind me of how really hard this sport is, I mean really REALLY hard for anyone who wants to just do it because they liked the idea of galloping cross country. Not that they were bad — they were exceptionally good, as a matter of fact — but it hits home to me after about seven years of not competing in recognized events that this sport remains completely difficult. It has not changed!

I have been filling in everyone as the year has progressed, starting with a decision in the spring to stop putting it off and get back to a recognized event, and as of last weekend, I got there. I am not going to tell you the journey was a shining path of fun, nor was it entirely without inspiration and good feelings.

It hit me walking the course for the last time, after dressage on Saturday. Many of the Training jumps are next to the Novice jumps, and the numbers are painted black with white letters. The Novice jump numbers are the opposite. The last recognized events I did were with my great champion Rugby I lost four years ago, and we rode Training level a lot. The black numbers were for Rugby; I had to stop and cry a little couple of tears in the woods where no one could see. Black numbers for Rugby! 

Photo by Susan Yates.

But today I was riding Hamish and he had to look at the white numbers. I knew I had to ride him without thinking of the past and of other things; he is very honest but he is also pretty sure if it’s new, it deserves a look. The great thing about foxhunting a horse is that they just learn to go across the country, even if they haven’t seen it before, they just do it. Eventing is much like that without the herd to follow. So as an experienced foxhunter, he was used to country, but in eventing, he had to be brave and go by himself for me. This he and I have been working on. Since he’s never been to Marlborough Horse Trials, it was all new to him — I had to make sure that when he looked, he knew he had to go.

Well, no worries there! His biggest “OK Mom I got this” moment was the bold leap off the down bank, and when I asked him to gallop on at the end of the course, a big one at the last fence. Earlier in the course, when we roller-coastered down the big hill to the water jump and entered the water jump field, he took a big look around, and I allowed him to trot to the half round which was the in, then trot through the giant Tidy Bowl, and gently hopped the little log out. He landed, and went, pppffffew, there. Water’s done. Let’s go home now. And I had to unfortunately ask him to canter just a bit more and up another hill. So we had a few time faults on cross country because I was a bit conservative here and there. The second fence, a lovely brush, was also a bit sticky, but he shook it off and took off up the hill after the third like he was mad at himself! I was so lucky to be riding such a smart horse that day.

But on the way home, thinking about the course (which now I am going over in my head every quiet moment I get) I realized that I had jumped clean (but slow) on cross country, clean (but slow) on stadium, and ripped off a 30s dressage test on a half-fit horse, while competing fairly exhausted, wearing a dressage coat I hate, without anything really more than two good jumping lessons as prep. And got a ribbon to boot. I don’t recommend anyone do this like I did. It’s much better to be prepared properly. This sport is hard.

To make the week difficult for no real reason, my refrigerator died and a new one had to be purchased, and all the food we had was tossed; because I helped volunteer all day on Friday, there was no time between driving back and forth, clipping, bathing and riding, trying to get some sleep (and getting up O’Dark Thirty for four days in a row) to buy more food. So Hamish’s great breeder and number one fan, Susan Yates, came and brought a delicious picnic which saved my sorry butt. I cannot thank her enough for being there! I usually event alone so it was a real treat to have an extra pair of hands — that brought FOOD.

This event also held an unrecognized combined test on the following weekend day and in a completely insane moment, I entered my other unicorn, Nice Guy, in the Beginner Novice division. Realizing it was too much for one weekend, I went ahead and did it anyway. (You thought I was going to say scratch.) Well, things went pretty well until I walked him up to dressage warmup. Then he took a look around and said, this is NOT the dressage shows I have been going to all summer. This is DIFFERENT. And found an excuse (a baby stroller) to be a little bad.

Uh-oh. When my horses meltdown, I sort of meltdown too. Not this time! This required a nice, slow, regular warmup with emphasis on paying attention until he loosened his back and was ready to go in the ring. Well, I tried. We ended up with a much shorter warm-up than I had sort of planned on. I stuck to about ten 20-meter circles at trot and told the ring steward I was going to canter until I had to go in, bless her heart, she was not afraid and trusted me! (And thank goodness for the decision to put the jumping saddle on and not the dressage saddle. We like knee and thigh rolls.) So he went in the ring and behaved if you can believe it. And I did not forget the test! Meltdown averted!

Many thanks to the eventing stranger in the parking lot who took this for me. Unicorn #2. Photo by Holly Covey

Then he was to jump. Well, this horse has not jumped in competition for three years. So why not just take him into a terrifying warmup with kids, ponies, professionals on big warmbloods, shrill coaches yelling directions? Sure. And trot your first course a bit. Sure. And then canter your next course and jump everything with distain as if to say, “Is that all you got today, Mom?” What a horse, what a day — a second unicorn. We elected to forego a cross country schooling, since we had accomplished a lot already in the day and I didn’t want to fight traffic going home.

So finally at home, I was thinking about how I am going to write this blog for you all. My triumphant return to recognized eventing. Realization One: I really have two wonderful horses that I’ve made myself. And they are the reason I get to do this and make these plans and goals, and achieve them. And I have to really write about them and how great they are. Then I see the big events and fancy 4* horses going around, and watch the videos like everyone else, and think well my little novice horses don’t seem so terrific compared to those horses, and yet – to me – they are terrific, because they enable me. I will never jump around a Plantation, or Blenheim, or Fair Hill. And so what.

Realization Two: This sport remains HARD. Don’t believe anyone — ANYONE — who says “eventing is easier” or “it’s changed, it’s easier now.” Bull. It’s hard. I am well past middle age and have been riding my whole life. And it’s still hard. I made a mistake in every phase, things I have to fix going forward, and there is always more work to do. Better dressage basics, those are things anyone can do. Better pace — that is also something I should work on because I know better — more practice with the watch, timing myself, getting comfortable with more gallop. More fitness. (Gad, you can never be too fit. All of us.) And lastly, friends. Lots of friends to encourage you, tell you when you are wrong, lend a hand, hold a horse, remind you to let go and kick on. Friends are the thing that makes eventing easier.

So my advice after this saga: appreciate and care for your horses a lot. Get fitter. Take more lessons and be a better student of the game. Be a fan but don’t be a fanatic. Stay cool. Under-enter and over-perform. Rely on friends and appreciate them. Go eventing.


Do You Have an Emergency Evacuation Plan?

Screenshot via

Even the best couldn’t prepare for a storm that is so epic the Weather Channel has to make a new color on their radar for its rainfall total. But as a horse owner, you have to try to be prepared for weather-related disasters. What if they say it’s really, really bad and you may need to get out? And you know the horses have to get out, too. So … what will you do?

Don’t wait til the last minute. If roads are bad, backed up, or flooded, a fully loaded horse trailer isn’t going anywhere. You don’t ever want to have to unload on the side of the road. Get your horses out before it’s gets bad. It is better to be safe than sorry.

With another hurricane bearing down and wildfires wreaking havoc in the west, it’s a good time to review your own emergency evacuation strategies.

What is bad? That might be different for each person, but really, you know your land, your region, and your weather better than any generic set of advice. What is your elevation? Do you live near drainage or water? What is the history of flood or storm surge in your area? If you don’t know, ask a long-time resident. Get information from the sources – NOAA, your state’s emergency services. Get a good weather app on your phone and when the storm arrives, start checking it every hour. Keep up on social media and see what people in your area are doing.

When you feel you have to get out, if you have a couple of things ready it will be really easy. First of all, teach your horses to load. All of them. When it comes time, all you really have to do is pop them in the trailer and off you go. Do you have more horses than spaces in the trailer? Then get on the phone and get some help lined up ahead of time from friends you know you can count on. Don’t think you can make trips … sometimes the water rises very quickly and you might be forced to leave the horses waiting at home stranded!

But wait … there’s more.

Have that truck and trailer hooked up, tires fully inflated, truck with full tank of fuel, extra fuel in portable tanks in the truck. Waterproof boots, clothes, gloves, etc. packed in the truck. Keep your phone charged up, and have a familiarity with roads in your neighborhood either by personal experience, or a good mapping app. You may not be able to use familiar or convenient roads, so know the alternative routes. This is very important when towing a trailer! Some maps show roads as passable when they are not suitable for a truck and trailer. Know your neighborhood well.

Have hay, grain, water for the horses with feeding buckets for every horse, enough for at least three days each. Extra halters and leads, including a long rope if you have one. First aid kit for both humans and horses. (Extra Vetrap for all kinds of fixes.). Fill the haybags in the trailer and fill a couple extra bags if you have them. You should have Coggins test copies in the trailer for every horse you are moving, along with veterinary records. Keep in a waterproof bag where they can be easily reached.

Put strong, thick snug fitting halters (not rope type) on the horses, and put duct tape on the halters, with the horse’s name, age, and your phone number and name. If you go to a shelter this may be required. Each horse should have a detachable lead rope, because you may need to tie them, or the lead rope might be needed to secure a stall door or opening. Don’t take blankets or sheets. If they have to be outside they will get soaked and if they are inside they might be too hot.

Bear in mind they may not allow people to stay with the horses overnight at some evacuation facilities, so you won’t be able to tend to your horses for some hours. If they have water and hay they will be fine. Don’t worry about grain. If you have a couple of bags of bedding, along with shovels or a pitchfork, and a muck basket or wheelbarrow, this might be allowed and will let you keep the stalls cleaned. But if not, don’t panic over it. There may not be a place to put the manure.

Once you get there, unload and put the horses in stalls and keep them there. Don’t take them out, walk them, let them touch noses with other horses, etc. The less movement in crowded barns with strange horses, the safer your horses will be. They can manage a couple of days without exercise; if you have horses that are getting rambunctious, check with a vet about a horse that is over-reacting, perhaps treating them for safety’s sake with medication.

Keep fresh water and hay in front of them and basically wait it out. Horses manage pretty well when locked up, as long as they can keep their gut moving with a constant source of hay or roughage, and water. Keep the water filled. Monitor their temperature if you can, and stay with them as much as you can to give them a sense of familiarity.

Pack water and food for yourself, things that don’t need refrigeration like crackers, energy bars, cookies, pretzels, etc. that will keep a few days if necessary. Put these along with important stuff like your driver’s license, phone charger, and change of clothes in a backpack that you can grab quickly and allow your hands to be free. Have a couple of large quart size sealable plastic baggies in an outside pocket of the backpack; if you have to walk through high water, stop first and get your phone in a baggie, and seal it, so it stays dry.

If the shelter allows you to stay with the horses, I hope you have a living quarter horse trailer but if not, be prepared to sleep in your truck, or possibly in the shelter area. For this reason it will be helpful to have a sleeping bag and change of clothes along with some moist cleaning wipes or other toiletries and medication you may need for a few days.

Be polite and cooperative with shelter or evacuation center managers. They don’t have time to explain what they need to do, may not know answers to all the questions you might have and have to work under pretty tough conditions, so try to take your horse where it seems safest and do the best you can to make your stay easy for them. Share tools and help others when you can. If they allow you to keep your feed in your trailer, that’s the best place for it. If the trailer can’t be used for storage and has to be parked far away or removed, then get your feed as close to your horses as you can, make sure it stays dry and out of the wind, and keep it covered and secured if possible.

You may want to keep a permanent marker pen and some duct tape handy for identifying your stalls and equipment. Like a horse show you might be sharing a barn with many other people and horses. Be prepared to get along with others.

When it’s time to leave, make sure you have a place prepared back home for them, fences repaired or barn ready. Make sure you follow shelter protocol before you load up. Check with the shelter manager for whatever is needed before exiting, such as cleaning the stalls you have used and placing the manure in a designated area.

When you return home, keep checking your horse’s temperatures for a few days to be on top of any communicable diseases. Be cautious with turnout if the storm has broken fences, or swamped fields and paddocks. Don’t feed wet hay or grain; throw it out. Once you have returned, be sure to keep up with the Emergency Services warnings and direction regarding fresh water, toxic conditions, further flooding, etc. as these might affect where you put the horses on your property, and what source of water you use.

Every area is different, each region might have different protocol or rules, and some places won’t have evacuation facilities that are close enough or will work for horses (such as pet centers only). Know what the situation is around your area; check the Emergency Services information on your local government website. The best way to prepare is keep up on the news of the weather and keep everything ready to go, just in case you have to. And I hope you do not have to leave!

Mark Your Calendars! A Roundup of 2017 National, Area and YEH/FEH Championships

Cindy Deporter and Ana D take a victory lap at AEC. Photo by Leslie Threlkeld.

Fall is coming. For our sport it’s high-gear time, time to kick it up, get riding, schooling, training, prepping for stars or move-ups. Championships are coming. It’s a dizzying whirl of national championships, area championships and young horse championships.

For the most part, riders have to qualify for eventing championships with placings earlier in the year, or within the qualifying period. For all of the 10 areas of the USEA, the area championships are part of an existing area horse trial, which hold designated championship divisions alongside the regular divisions.

One would expect Area championships to be held at the end of the season, but this is not the case in any area of the U.S.!

In Area III, the season’s end came in mid-summer, at Chattahoochee Hills Horse Trials in Fairburn, GA, held July 8-9, 2017. The rest of the year riders work toward 2018 championships. This is the earliest area championship held. It concludes the southern area’s “season,” which starts over in the winter and winds down in spring.

Area II, Area IV, Area VI and Area VII all have one or two horse trials following their area championships. Areas like Area IV,VII, X and IX basically have seasons from mid-May to early October, while other areas, such as III, stretch from January to November.

Area I has its season championships in August, at Town Hill Farm Horse Trials, Lakeville, CT, Aug. 25-27. No less than eight fall horse trials follow in that area.

Area V has a split championship, with Meadow Creek Park – The Fall Social Event, Sept. 16-7, in Kosse, TX, holding the BN-N championship divisions, and Oct. 28-29, six weeks later, the T-P championships are held in Benton, LA, at Holly Hill Fall Horse Trials. In between those two championships there are three regular horse trials.

In Area VII, the area championship is a part of Park Equine Kentucky Classique Horse Trials, held at the Kentucky Horse Park, Lexington, KY, on Sept. 1-3, 2017, the same weekend as the American Eventing Championships in Tryon, NC; and five Area VII horse trials are held after the championship in that area through September and October.

Nationally, the USEA recognizes the Future Event Horse championships in two locations, the western championship competition at Twin Rivers in CA, in Area VI, Sept. 21; and the eastern championship at Loch Moy, home of Maryland Horse Trials, in MD, Area II, Sept. 23-24, 2017. The Young Event Horse Championships are also held on both coasts; western championship at Woodside International Horse Trials, Woodside, CA, Oct. 5, and eastern championship at Fair Hill International Three Day Event, Elkton, MD, Oct. 12-13. These are the only eventing championships held in the United States that conclude the season for these horses.

The overall national championship for eventing, the American Eventing Championships (Aug.30-Sept.3, Tryon, NC), comes on Labor Day weekend; the fall eventing season pretty much follows the AECs, so the qualifying for this championship splits two years. The qualifying period stretched from May 30 last year to August 21 for 2017. (AEC qualification summary here.)

Here’s a roundup of all eventing championships in the U.S. by area.

  • Area I (New England) Qualifying criteria here; Town Hill Farm Horse Trials, 8/25-27/17
  • Area II (Mid Atlantic) Qualifying criteria here (2016 rules, not updated yet for 2017): Virginia Horse Trials, 10/26-29
  • Area III (South) Qualifying criteria is a PDF linked on this page: 2018 championships not yet set, 2017 championships were held in July at Chattahoochee Hills
  • Area IV (Midwest) Qualifying criteria here; Heritage Park Horse Trials, Olathe, KS, 10/6-8
  • Area V (Texas and surrounding) Qualifying criteria here; split championships at two events, Meadow Creek Park Horse Trials, 9/16-17, and Holly Hill Fall Horse Trials, 10/28-29
  • Area VI (California) Qualifying criteria here (2016 pdf); Fresno County Horse Park Horse Trials, 10/20-22
  • Area VII (Northwest) Qualifying criteria here: Aspen Farms, 9/8-10
  • Area VIII (Upper midwest) Qualifying criteria here: Park Equine Kentucky Classique Horse Trials, 9/1-3
  • Area IX (Southwest) Qualifying criteria here: Las Cruces Horse Trials, 10/14-15
  • Area X (West) Qualifying criteria here: The Event at Skyline, 10/6-8


1984 – I Was There!

Oh yes, I was there – the Olympic Games in Los Angeles in 1984. I still have the green and orange volunteer suit, too! And somewhere in the bowels of my office, my I.D. tag and a few other things. But the really cool tennis shoes we got are long gone, sorry. They were really nice, those shoes. I spent a lot of hours in them.

This was the raw site of the XC at Fair banks Ranch, before construction. Photo by Holly Covey

Lots of eventers today weren’t born yet when the L.A. Olympics took place. Some were just little kids. Some, like me and a whole generation of west-coast eventers, were starry-eyed just to sign up and be volunteers and hang out with the best eventers in the world, although mostly from a distance.

For those that remember, the three-day event took place over five days, because the dressage and show jumping were held at Santa Anita racetrack in Arcadia, Ca., sort of north and east of downtown L.A. The cross country for the Olympic three-day took place at Fairbanks Ranch in Rancho Sante Fe, at a site that was destined to be a golf course after the games, just outside of Del Mar, Ca.

The schedule involved shipping the horses after dressage down to the cross country for one day, and then shipping them back to Santa Anita, with rest days in between. Yeah, it was weird, but that is what they thought would work the best. And don’t forget, this was the era of the classic, so there was roads and tracks and steeplechase at the site.

It was hot on August 1st for the cross country and the Europeans complained bitterly about the heat throughout the Games. There were temporary wash racks set up at the portable stabling for washing the horses, and I clearly remember Bettina Hoy washing her horse down after finishing the course, stopping briefly to joyfully hug first one German groom, then her horse, then another German groom while they were all four in the wash rack soaking each other down.

I volunteered all nine days of the equestrian competition at Santa Anita and had some incredible experiences. Here’s a few:

  • Meeting Prince Phillip. At the time we was president of the FEI and was responsible technically for all of the scoring of the competition, something he took very seriously. He had a box overlooking the competition arena (which was situated on the main racetrack right by the finish line) and expected the scoring sheets to be brought to him to be looked over and approved. I got to do this. It was freakin’ awesome. But it was a really long climb up the grandstand steps to his box.
  • Petting and holding Big Ben. He was a huge monster of a horse and as gentle and sweet as you can imagine. Standing at the back gate waiting to go in for the jump off, his groom asked me to hold him while she got some water.
  • Helping the foreign photographers. Many of the foreign photographers were used to having more accessible spots to photograph from, and were very dismayed to find they were given good spots from what they felt was far away. L.A. took the games VERY seriously and there was the first inklings of security there. I heard some interesting swear words in many languages.
  • The British team was mostly women and they wanted to have makeup before their interviews on camera up in the press area, where I volunteered. Nobody had any but me. Lucinda Green used my powder compact.
  • Bert DeNemethy let me and Katie Lindsay go in to the main show jumping arena and take pictures of the jumps. I’ve got one of Katie and she took one of me. Both of us treasure these.

Oh there is so much more I remember from then, but this will have to do for now. I hope everyone is planning right now to volunteer or attend in 2028!

Eventing Safety PSA: Don’t Jump Junk!

Resist this. Photo by Holly Covey.

I can’t help but cringe when I see some of the photos eventers post online of crazy DIY obstacles they’ve concocted and are jumping at home. It seems to me that if you are at all concerned about safety in eventing, you should be practicing what you preach at home.

The reasoning behind many of these stupid jumps is along the lines of, “Well, they need the schooling at home” or “It’s so low, it won’t hurt” or “He jumped it fine, what’s the problem?” Well, here’s the problem — it’s patently unsafe! Every time you ask your horse to lift himself with you attached over an obstacle, you have an obligation to both of you to do it safely.

I’ve learned my lesson. Years ago, I jumped a piece of junk that looked fun, and my horse misjudged it and cut his leg. I’ll never forgive myself. After I took care of him, I went out and collected the junk and put it in the burn pile. And based on some of the photos I’ve seen on social media, others ought to be doing the same.

Here’s my list of what to avoid jumping at home.

  • Pallets. For everything that is holy and reverent, please do not jump pallets. They are hoof catchers, trippers and impalement waiting to happen. Most pallets reside in the filthiest parts of warehouses, trucking yards and storage facilities and are loaded with bacteria. They are nailed together (not screwed) and the wood is often cheap softwood that easily splinters. Their structural integrity is very suspect due to constantly being mishandled or slammed around by forklifts with heavy items loaded on them. Even picking them up and moving them by hand requires gloves. Stay away from intact pallets. Please.
  • String, rope, cloth, plastic, blankets, carpets, netting, anything with loops or pile that can catch hooves. The law of averages says that even Sapphire or Mighty Nice will roll a pole once in a lifetime. That means if your horse happens to dip his toe the slightest bit, he could catch a carpeted or netted piece of something draped over a jump — and then you both are in real danger. Please don’t drape stuff over jumps. If you want color or interest, use brush, cornstalks, real or fake flowers, or paint, or drape stuff on the standards that aren’t jumped.
  • Insecure anything. Hell, yah, we’ve all braced the broken standard with the cement block, or propped up the other side of the rail on the broken box when you couldn’t find another cup … but the problem with doing this is you are breaking a major rule of jumping that I will outline below, the Rule of Consistency, and you jeopardize your horse’s confidence in so doing. Things that are not securely set for jumping tend to fall without warning, or will be braced and not fall when they need to. So if you can’t get it right, best not to get too carried away.

There are many dangerous things other than those outlined above, like plastic forms, poorly designed jumps and standards, broken poles that have ends like spears, pipes, baskets or boxes that are not sturdy or secure, cement blocks, the list goes on. It hurts enough just to land on a regular jump if you fall. I’ve seen a pony impaled in the abdomen by a broken pole used as a ground line, which flipped up when it was stepped on.

An inexpensive yet safer schooling jump: colorful, adjustable and versatile. Photo by Holly Covey.

That doesn’t mean you can’t safely use things as decoration on the sides or safely under a jump as a groundline, but it does mean that if you aren’t sure if something will hold up properly under a jumping horse who could possibly make a mistake, be cautious. And by “proper,” I do mean correctly placed, and of sufficient weight and strength, to be used as a jumping obstacle. 

Periodically you should inspect your jumps at home for anything loose, check for rotting wood, replace screws that are working loose, and repair broken or worn-out parts. You don’t have to have new freshly painted jumps every year but you should be sure that they are in good repair and sturdy for the intended use. Look over the tops of the coops and brush for anything sticking out that could poke legs or hooves, and check for holes or gaps that could catch a hoof should a horse make a mistake and slide into it.

Good bases on your standards are important. Photo by Holly Covey.

Anything with feet or braces on the bottom of it to help it stand on the ground should be checked and replaced if they are too sharp, have edges that haven’t been sanded off or trimmed, or are rotten. It almost goes without saying that there should not be nails in the bottoms of standards — bolts or screws are probably better, and anything else that could shatter into pieces or is too flimsy not to break when touched by a horse hoof shouldn’t be in the ring.

Teaching a horse to jump well isn’t about scaring the pee out of them with stuff you find at the end of driveways after perusing the “Free” section of Craigslist. As eventers I know we are proud that our horses are trained to jump anything we point them at, but there’s a line.

One of the most important things about teaching young event horses to jump is consistency — making the jumping sessions carefully logical, and creating questions that educate rather than scare.

Here’s the Rule of Consistency: When you have a jump course that has poles about the same size and weight, jumps about the same width and depth, and you build a course from these components that makes logical sense to a jumping horse, you provide them with a sense of security. They begin to trust the obstacle — they learn how to use themselves to clear things, they experiment with their legs and body to jump higher, or better, for you as a rider. Every schooling session isn’t a survival contest; instead, it’s a quietly competent way of teaching him to use himself correctly, the best way he can for his style and your riding. Safe jumps = safe jumping.

By setting safe, consistent courses with rails that are the same, you are creating a level playing field for your horse, and are able to mold his jumping form so that when something unusual comes along, he and you stay together over it. As your schooling progresses, using creativity to build interesting stuff to jump isn’t a bad thing as long as you are mindful of what will encourage him.

Safe jumps might mean good solid groundlines, decor on the sides, good wood on your poles and cavalletti, and always setting poles in cups. Safe jumps have sturdy fillers, smooth top surfaces, screws instead of nails, sanded or trimmed feet on the standards, no sharp edges, no billowing or flapping or unsecured strings or cloth, nothing that is likely to shatter or splinter on impact. You want a jump’s components to simply fall to the ground when crashed into, using gravity to let them drop. Things that aren’t heavy enough bounce up. Things that are flimsy tend to flip and catch legs and feet. You don’t want your horse to make a mistake and pay with a tangle.

We’ve all jumped stuff we shouldn’t have. We’ve all gotten a little carried away with junk just to make things interesting. There’s no need to panic and go out and throw all your jumps in the burn pile if they’re a little old. Just be careful what you jump at home, repair or replace things if they break, and keep it real. (And stay away from “Curb Alerts”….)

What They Did on Their Summer Vacation

Yeah, the chin isn’t up — that grinning little face is looking down at that pony’s neck, overjoyed to be finally riding. And the reins are too long– well, those fists are holding that mane so they can stay on for that bumpy trot. And the heels are up, as there are other things that young horse lover is concentrating on at the moment, like staying in the saddle!

Summer camp days! Great memories. Photo by Holly Covey

It’s easy for those of us who ride daily and have horses in our backyards to miss out on the special joy of horses for those who only get a chance to see them or be near them during vacation times. How many hours have those horse lovers spend in the car, staring out the window as the family traveled, hoping to catch a glimpse of a horse grazing in a pasture?

And finally there’s a vacation for the family that includes a couple of pony rides. Soon, they have booked a summer horse camp for a week, and the little horse lover is thoroughly and completely addicted.

For many event barns, summer might wind down for the big events and there might be a break here and there for competition, but those barns that operate summer camps are now gearing up for their big season.

While summer camps don’t have the special attraction of competition, they often bring in the bulk of a year’s income for many smaller stables, as well as provide a meaningful way to encourage kids to ride and maybe get interested in eventing and, eventually, become eventers.

Many eventers began at summer camp; many top level eventers earned a summer’s wages teaching summer camp as counselors, and even some top level event horses have begun their careers at summer camp (four-star horse Crackerjack being one of these!)

Many event barns offer summer camps for kids and even adults. Farms such as Full Moon Farm, in Finksburg, MD., annually hold a “Quarter Star” week-long eventing camp that takes eventing at the lower, smaller levels and turns it into a fun and educational experience just like the bigger, tougher, higher level three-day events.

Summer camp is a way for those who don’t have a horse to see if horses can fit within their life. Being new to a big animal who has a mind of its own, and sometimes goes where it wants to go, can be eye-opening. But most die-hard horse lovers overcome their fears and enjoy the barn and riding opportunities. It’s hard for those of us who are in the barn all the time to put ourselves in their shoes and remember what it was like to be excited to pet a soft nose for the first time.

Be patient and kind to those horse loving kids if you are teaching summer camp this year. Don’t sweat the small stuff. It’s OK to break a little rule or two once in awhile if it puts a big smile on their face and gives them a memory they will never forget.

If you are a parent of a camper, let them enjoy horses and do what you can to help them get as many opportunities as possible to be around horses.

We all like this sport and would like to see it stick around. These kids are the ones who will make that possible. It sure doesn’t look it when you see them bouncing around the ring on the plodding school pony, but soon they will be competing, owning horses, getting on a team…

Two Unicorns in the Barn

The Unicornmobile tried to kill me this show. Photo by Holly Covey. The Unicornmobile tried to kill me this show. Photo by Holly Covey.

In the ongoing saga of getting back to eventing, it’s not fair to talk only about my one unicorn. I actually have a second poor soul that has to put up with me, Lucky, who has had a rather long green horse period.

As in maybe like six years of being green. Ah well. What with one thing and another, including three years where horses took a back seat to work and family, Lucky often got less quality time. And he has spent more time off for injuries and various aches and pains than he deserved, also. A toe crack has taken an entire year to grow out. And a fall, somehow, in the stall in late winter required two months off — although, when I found him on three legs originally I thought the worst and called the vet fully prepared to euthanize him. So he’s back in work also, alongside Hamish, and has been concentrating on the flat work.

I am happy to say his dressage schooling show this weekend was excellent. I am sad to say I am feeling some pain, however, following this excursion. And absolutely none of it is horse-induced. It’s all dumb stuff!

First thing upon arrival I let the tack room door slam, in a gust of wind, on my forearm as I opened it.  That made me gasp for a while and a scrape started a nice red stripe. Didn’t hurt when riding (of course).

Being it was dressage, I feel it would be better to do the black boots, and they are a bit different fitting than the brown ones, and I walked in them about five minutes too long — blisters on both heels. Sometime during the day, I also got some sort of a bug bite or sting on my neck, which of course itched without relief the rest of the day.

And the final hurt was tripping over the edge of the side ramp and bruising my shin but good when I got home and began to clean out the trailer. At that point, I gave up, left the cleanup for Sunday, and headed for a beer.

So how did the horse do? The horse was actually quite good. Initially, warmup was a challenge when he was extremely READY to warmup with all the other horses warming up. But he surprised me with only a very modest buck from his extensive repertoire, and other than a few tense-back moments, was quite rideable in the ring.

I, however, was quite bad in the memory department. I really did not ride the first test well and received two bloody errors. Grr. But I’ve changed. I used to let such a terrible disaster bother me all day and go back to the trailer and just fall apart. However, now, I try hard to smile through it, shake it off, and come back swinging the next time and let me tell you that sea change has taken many years of hard work on myself.

The second test was definitely better when a friend read the test for me. I was able to ride better and give him more. He loves to canter and his only fault was to keep trying to do more of it when we trotted circles or corners. For his efforts he got two good scores and primary color ribbons. Really, I’m not telling you enough about how GREAT he really was. He finds warmups a bit nerve wracking but I think he really loves going into the ring by himself, and doing the test.

I have to remember it’s only training level, only a schooling show, and only low key, but it felt pretty good to have at least part of something go right with this horse. Afterwards, we took a ride with a friend down a coolly shaded trail, splashed in some water, and came back to the trailer mostly like a gentleman.

Lucky has also had some trailer issues and I am happy to say he loaded very well with only a few minutes’ hesitation. He was overall a pretty good boy. So I tweeted afterwards, “I am so lucky, I have two unicorns in the barn,” and really, I do. They do try. They do make me smile.

It is very fortunate indeed to have two horses that have these qualities, because it takes a long time sometimes just to find out if a horse wants to give you what you think they have in them. To get to a checking point, and have positive feedback on the training at that point in time, is all we are looking for. It is essentially the reason we are in this long game, the price we pay for this so-intrinsically-rewarding thing we do with horses. It can last a lifetime and make people crazy, but it can also become all of your soul, fuel your spirit, and define “living.” This is what is meant when they say, “it’s the journey.” Really, it is living with horses.

Enough zen. Now, back to reality. I need to heal up all the boo-boos I incurred on the day. I think someone was just checking to make sure I knew it wasn’t all going to be rainbow farts and fairy dust. Got it.

New Training Resources Available to Help Build Better Volunteers

Bit checking is just one volunteer job that needs a well-trained person! Photo by Holly Covey.

Well-trained and prepared volunteers make events run smoothly and keep the experience fun and fulfilling for everyone involved. In the spirit of streamlining the experiences of eventing’s valuable volunteer friends, the USEA’s Volunteer Committee recently made a wealth of free volunteer education content available online at

At the forefront are a range of comprehensive checklists outlining useful information for some common volunteer positions, ranging from announcers to scribes and jump judges to ring stewards. They are available as printable PDFs, handy for distributing at events.

Here’s an example:

A neat supplement to the checklists are these volunteer training videos, produced by Irene Doo, volunteer coordinator at Pine Hill H.T. in Texas, to help train her helpers.

She also generated the checklists for the volunteer positions, with the Volunteer Committee adding suggestions and providing them to the USEA for publication, so that events all over the country could share these materials.

The checklists are free to download for any event, and can also be found very soon at, the new program in use to track volunteer hours and slot available volunteers into needed jobs online for participating horse trials and events. Many thanks to Irene, Pine Hill volunteers and the staff at the USEA for providing these materials to enhance volunteer experiences all over the country.

Go eventing volunteers!


Update: Almost There

Photo from video by Laura K. Rayne – two waters on Novice! Whoohooo!

It’s been a couple of weeks since I updated our progress back to eventing, and there are lots of picky little details that really can be skipped over. I suppose if you were competing at a CCI**, you wouldn’t skip the picky little details, but if you are chicken, old, and marginally fit I don’t think it matters too much. It’s enough to get both legs on the correct sides of the horse and maintain proper vertical order (ground, horse, rider) most of the time. Add memorizing a dressage test, remembering a jumping course, and both walking and performing over a cross country course — all on the same day — and you have the Old Fossil Olympics going on.

So of course you are thinking, this is where she explains how and why she went off course at her latest horse trial! Ah ha! But I didn’t!

Instead this time the footing was much improved for dressage, and we got a great score despite a little mistake with the first canter depart. Unfortunately, the ring was a bit behind time, and because I have a long drive to the event site, I plan on walking the cross-country course in the two hour space between dressage and jumping phases. When the ring gets 15 minutes behind suddenly you have only 1 hour 45 minutes. When you are basically grooming for yourself, the minutes are not retrievable!

So I hacked back to the trailer, quickly stripped him, sponged his back, threw him back in his trailer to vacuum hay and ran up to the cross country course. Except … you don’t run up that legendary hill at Plantation. You walk. Slowly. Even more slowly. Finally, gasping, you stop, just a minute, and pretend you’re getting a drink of water from your bottle. Really, you’re gasping for air because you are not in shape. I don’t think anyone is in shape for that hill. It’s like the Fossil Olympic hill. You expect a cheap neck medal and finish line when you get to the top, instead, someone in jeep zooms past you spewing red dust.

So once you get to the top you go to the cross country course. The footing is extra special grass that has been mowed thankfully since last time, so it’s not so long. (When it’s really long you lose children, dogs, and jump judges in it. They find them with GPS and heat seeking technology.)

The novice course walks decently, with a couple of hairpin turns which seemed interesting, the big jumps were set in really good galloping footing, and we had TWO waters to negotiate. Two. That’s really an embarrassment of riches there! But ah ha. You thought I was going to get lost. No, I did miss Number 17 on the walk, but I found it on the map, and I remembered it when riding the course — amazingly. I was not going to …. what was that? What wasn’t I going to do? I don’t know, I can’t remember.

So I survived the Hill, the course walk, and the heat and was ready to jump. Having had a particularly good jump school with a young local professional last Sunday, I was feeling pretty ready for stadium again. However, I did make a mistake — in setting up so nicely for a rather airy vertical on the turn, I landed and didn’t go forward enough to an oxer on a turn, and buried him. He got the rail on the way up. Darn. But the rest was really good.

Photo from video by Laura K. Rayne. Looks good here but a jump later the blue is lost…

So down to cross country I went, upped the stirrups a hole, and thought — geez, the footing is so good, I’m glad I didn’t waste time putting in studs today. Of course, I canter down to the start box and he slips a little as we go in a circle to start. Yikes! Fortunately, that was the only slipping I felt the whole time, he was very good to all the early jumps, we had a few chip-ins but very forward and felt good.

We were a bit tired by the second water. I asked him to go big on the second last, a brushy top table that is rather large, and he responded with a nice, knees-up leap, but over-reached a tad on landing and pulled off his shoe. I watched it spinning merrily, shoulder high, to my left, and noted where it landed. I got to the last fence, reported I was clean to the finish people, and then told them I had to go back for the shoe. Fortunately my friend found it almost immediately and brought it back to the trailer for me.

So my Lost Shoe Luck was practically used up for the year, I bet, on that find. I don’t know anyone that ever finds lost shoes at Plantation, they disappear into the turf and are gone forever, so we count that one pretty special.

By now, it’s getting very warm. The nice breeze up on the hill is keeping it fairly good even with the cross-country vest on, but now that we are back at the trailer, I pull it off quickly and get to work washing off Hamish to cool him out. He knows now he finally gets to eat grass and I can let him stand and chow down while I pull off tack, undo boots, wash and scrape.

The trailer looks like a tornado went through and deposited the tack room contents outside. I don’t care. I used to care, but now that I am a Fossil, details like this make me say, “Wow, I actually got all that tack off him before I fainted!” Instead of,”gee what a mess.”

We remember to hydrate. By that, we mean drink water. Lots of water. We snack a bit with friends, feed the kids, cool out the horses, check the scores. Pick up the dressage tests and study them quickly and put them on the truck dash for more closer scrutiny on the long ride home. We check the scores. We hydrate. We put away all the stuff that fell out of the tack room and horse trailer. I changed out of the swamp butt full seat breeches to something drier. We check the scores yet again. Finally we are searching for the last bottle of water, and the scores are up — we finished third, but that rail was costly yet again, and would have had another primary color had I not been mentally congratulating myself.

Surviving yet another event, it seems like we had stepped up another rung on the goal ladder. I was mentally going over all the courses and jumps, when I heard that a horse had been lost at another event. How sad. I immediately thought of my bay friend, and went right out to his stall and hugged him and told him I loved him. He was appreciative but really was more interested in dinner. Sigh.

Next? I think we are taking a heat hiatus due to summer being difficult for Fossils to function correctly, but our outings will continue until we are able to enter a recognized event later on the calendar. The goal hasn’t quite been achieved yet, but I am grinding along and things look pretty good from here. Forward.


We Are It

Jump crew at Fair Hill. Volunteers needed at your local event! Photo by Holly Covey

Somehow, the sharpest and smartest horsemen I know come from Australia. And there’s a not of them there. They seem to be the most dedicated and the most down to earth. I think it is because of how they truly have to appreciate their events, which are far between in a large country, and staffed by a few very dedicated supporters. Gosh, does that sound familiar?

When I was in harness racing, an old timer who was originally from Australia reminisced in the paddock one time about his days as a young man racing on the fair circuit. They’d ship in a truck, picket the horses overnight, set up a track with stakes and string, and “have some sport” racing horses all afternoon, then pack up when the day was done and off they’d go to the next fair. Everyone helped, everyone participated — that was part of the sport. There weren’t enough of them to “let someone else” do it. They were it.

Once, after the very last horse had finished at Fair Hill International, I was packing up the tables and chairs and tents in the cross-country warm up area. I was the last person there and it was a long day, and I was totally dragging with exhaustion. Guess who wanders by with a couple of working students but an Aussie … and they willingly pitched in, threw everything in the car and had me loaded up in about five minutes! I’ll never forget Kate Chadderton’s kind gesture — but she said, “no worries”, and meant it.

I was scribing dressage at MCTA in the lovely May fields at Shawan Downs when Boyd Martin rode a nice young horse into the ring. At one end, the horse stepped on something and it made a clink. Next time through the corner, there was another clink. As he saluted he mentioned there might be a rock in the corner.

The judge allowed me to go and check on it. I found what appeared to be a stone, but as I pushed and kicked, it was much larger than what showed up through the grass. As soon as Boyd handed off his horse to his groom he came back with his white dressage gloves and squatted down and helped me dig a pretty big chunk of granite it out of the grass. He’d already ridden. But he didn’t want someone else to step on it and hurt their horse. And there was no one else to help and the ring was getting behind time. So he pitched in.

I don’t mean to say that it’s just Australians who understand that the sport is theirs. There are lots and lots of darn good volunteers in our sport who aren’t from Down Under, who really care and understand its needs. But there are never, ever enough of them helping at events. We need more and we need them now. We need them with that Aussie spirit — we are it. There’s no one else.

I believe all riders should consider the sport “theirs” to care for, not just to compete in. This means if you see something that needs to be done, you ought to do it and not wait for someone else to figure it out. It means you should not complain. It means you should take at least one day in a year and volunteer in some capacity for some event. If you have the time you should do more than one day. It doesn’t matter what you do or where you do it, but it matters that you give that time and show up and work all day and give thanks for the opportunity to do it.

Your volunteer time is a gift, yes but it is not just a gift to the organizer or landowner. It’s a gift to you. You’ve insured the sport goes on one more event, one more year. You have given yourself the gift of education, the shared experience of being a part of great thing, or perhaps the great gift of a new friend or two met while volunteering.

The dearth of volunteers is so critical that to keep the events going in some parts of the country we may see volunteer hours become a requirement for participation in the sport. Area II’s year end awards currently require the recipients to provide at least one full day of volunteering to receive awards, and have for several years. And do you know that more than one person has lost a championship by not taking the time (through an entire season, in the country’s busiest eventing area) to volunteer at one event for one day? All that hard work and to miss out on the honor you’ve worked hard for, just because you can’t be bothered to sit in a chair and jump judge for an afternoon. For shame.

One of the busiest riders and trainers in the business, Sally Cousins, embodies this spirit. On any given event day, she’s riding upwards of four to six and sometimes even more horses in nearly every division. But Sally doesn’t use that as an excuse not to help out. She designs courses for the charity event derbies, she gives lessons for fundraisers, she supports the horse rescues, she leads course walks, among many other things she does for the sport and for events.

She recently took a horse up to Fair Hill and jumped it around a field for a television crew doing a story on eventing for a Baltimore television station. She MAKES the time (she does not really have) for the sport. I just don’t get how a rider with just two horses can’t find two hours to help set dressage rings or scribe for show jumping for an hour.

We are it. There isn’t anyone else. Volunteer!

We Are Tough Mudders

When I attended a course design seminar, I won’t forget a nugget of wisdom from John Williams: “Cross-country is not just the jumps.” When weather changes things, you often say to yourself, “oh no, this is not ideal,” and let doubts start to creep into your plans.

But part of life as horse people means we all have different experiences on horseback. And I am glad that I grew up galloping a pony bareback up and down logging roads near my childhood home in the Pacific Northwest, and that I found a way to spend time rounding up mustangs in the forested mountains of Idaho for the federal government, and spent time foxhunting on Maryland’s soggy and cold Eastern shore in the winter.

These experiences come around to help you toss out those creeping negative thoughts, and tell yourself, “Heck, yah, my horse can do that.” And it’s not really your horse, it’s you — you know you can rely on your balance and leg and hand to keep your horse up in his wither and available should he need you when the footing gets soupy.

And often, it’s not all the same soup — this last weekend’s event had a range of footing, from ankle deep slime in the soft grass dressage rings, to the resilient softness of a prepared show jumping ring, to the real variation I found on my novice cross-country course. And this is what happens. The takeoffs were improved with some gravel and packing and the landings were a bit torn up (due to having the recognized division run over the same jumps the day before). But the footing changed from hour to hour as the rain stopped and the sun came out and dried up the surface.

Even two hours after I walked the course and got ready to ride, the footing had changed a little. Nonetheless, I was immensely happy that I had gotten the Unicorn’s shoes drilled for studs, and you are darn right I studded for Novice. My repaired knee needed those studs, and it got them.

My horse did what many others did and what my friends told me their horses did. They jumped the first fence, galloped tentatively down to the second, landed and went, “hmmpf. Ok.” And decided that it wasn’t going to be too bad and off they went. Horses find the bottom of gummy footing like that if you don’t micro-manage and let them go a little.

I kind of trusted that Hamish could find his best footing and he did. After the bogey 4th fence, a red house going into the woods, was jumped really well, I felt him swell and gallop down the hill into the gulley. He barely registered the very small log out, and argued a bit with me as we took a long gallop toward the biggest fence on course, one that had everyone biting their nails, a rather imposing square box with a drop on landing.

The previous day’s action and rain had cut up the approach and takeoff on this jump, making it ride closer to 2 inches higher than it properly measured. I walked it and checked both sides — it looked like the left side had less of a drop and less chewed take-off so I opted to try and be some kind of smarty and let him break the rules and jump it off to the left side.

This worked and he popped it generously. Last week I had time to remember to breathe on some open gallop spaces but this week there wasn’t much room to breathe between things; and there were more hills. We’re both still out of shape, and I timed myself a little — knowing the recognized used 5:11 for optimum time. So while we were clean we weren’t very fast — if I had ridden the recognized (the starter is untimed) we might have had time faults.

We had TWO waters to cross, which is awesomeness in itself for Novice Starter I think, and both waters he jumped right in. He is starting to look and notice that water means stuff — he pricks his ears heading into water now — and I am trusting it’s not a spook but coming to attention, and thing that is so cool because he’s learning stuff I’m teaching him.

He took another flying leap off the bank, and we had to do the big bank down too — I get the feeling he is panicking slightly at these and I need to school them so he doesn’t get too enthusiastic — soon there may be something AFTER a bank down to jump and if he’s always overleaping the landing we may chest something, so that’s a thing to fix.

Over the last. Photo by Beth Rice

I can’t get too crazy about finishing 2nd. It’s a facility both of us have ridden around several times and he knows the lay of the land. We’re still not very fit and he and I are still making mistakes. But life is darn good when you can say the mud made no difference and your phases were all satisfactory.

That’s all for now — our next outing won’t be until June, so it is time to school and try to improve a few areas and get to work on the other horse, who has to get back into work from an injury late winter.

Many thanks to all my friends who are following the Comeback Blog on EN and thanks for taking pictures and letting me use them (and learn from them.) I owe everyone about a million photos!

If you like to see it, here’s the course we rode.


Knowing When To Stop: Easy or Hard?

A famous fork in the road in event central Chester County, Pennsylvania. Photo by Holly Covey.

Who are we, as eventers? Are we good at this horse thing? I think we like to think so. We encourage each other on social media. We “like” things that resonate with us. We “follow” people, we read their stuff, we link to it. A lot of upper level riders write wonderful messages and blogs to their followers and friends. It is a delight to be included in the ups and downs of our favorite riders, and it does mean a lot to those of us who follow the sport. I appreciate these riders for their honesty and willingness to share their lives with fans.

On occasion, and usually associated with something that happens at a competition, something goes awry. A mistake is made, a horse is spun, or something happens out on cross country. At times, social media becomes the water cooler, board room, or even courtroom when these incidents occur. Attention is paid, usually beyond all reason. Excuses are discussed. Rhetoric hits the gas. And what it really does is make everyone gun-shy of publicity of any kind, and that hurts us all — because we need fans in this sport desperately.

I have always been fascinated by the “story behind the story.” To me, the apology or message with lots of “love” and “if I knew” and “I owe everything to my horse” is probably fairly true, but there always seems to be something really in the background that precipitates the change or expression. We don’t always know the whole backstory — and sometimes that is because if we did we’d be horrified, but sometimes it’s because adversity is more comfortable under the covers.

One of my longest eventing friends who has mostly lower-level horses withdrew after dressage in an unrecognized event the other weekend. It’s a horse she’s had a while, she knows him well, and she knew he could do the job of show jumping and cross country; it wasn’t that she was unable to do it. She felt he was un-level. She thought she ought to stop for the day, take him home, address the problem and try again another day.

This exemplary action to me is what eventing really truly is all about — the HORSE — and how HE feels. Not how the sponsors will react, how the coach or trainer feels, what the rider thinks, the honor and prestige and expense and longterm effort … none of that means even a half-full hay bag to any horse.

If you train a horse for years to perform at competitions, don’t be surprised when he thinks he is there to perform. Of course he’s going to feel good and try for you. You trained him to do that. Because he is fit and expecting to go and do things at an event, we get a little crazed by the whole thing — and why not? We’ve worked hard, the horse probably looks like a million bucks, and we want to go on. But it’s so hard to say, “maybe not today.”

And we all will face that question — nobody wants to, but if you are going to mess with horses, someday you too will press that button and send in the entry, then go out to the barn just after the “no refund” deadline, and find Big Daddy stepping on a clip. It will happen. And you will have to make a decision — do I go on, or do I say, “not today?”

Sometimes it is clear and easy to make a decision and sometimes the outlines are blurred and the answer isn’t clear. Is he really lame? Is he really not wanting to jump? Is it too much for him? Is he too old? Is he too young? Can he manage with that condition? What should I do? And, if you are competing on the world stage, the rest of us expect you to be able to make that decision clearly. (Pause for wild laughter here.)

This is a hard thing for our sport — when it’s a thing that might be clear to others but not to the one who has to make the decision. The horse goes fine at home; he’s right, he’s experienced, he’s fit — and then out of the blue, he tells you that big brush corner is not something he can do today, and it ends your whole world. How we wish we knew that before … but sometimes the horses don’t want to let us down until they simply can’t. In National Velvet, Velvet says The Pie “burst himself for me and I asked him and he burst himself again.” Yes. We know that feeling.

I think because our horses are fit, their condition disguises stuff — the vets can chime in here — but that’s my suggestion. They think they are world-beaters. We get fooled. And if I get fooled, I want to be a fool in this case. It’s the greatest feeling in the world to be sitting on a fit horse who is ready to fly — there is nothing more to life than that, is there?!

And there are repercussions for stopping. Trainers, coaches, owners to answer to. Criticism for being chicken, afraid, not ready, under-conditioned, etc. It takes a village to get a horse to the upper levels but the village finds other things to do when a rider sticks out their neck and makes a decision to stop and reroute to something else down the road. Consequences aren’t always great.

And all I can say is, we’ve all been there with horses. There are horses I’ve made mistakes with — as we all have — and times I’ve gone, or not stopped, when I should have. And there are times when I’ve used my brain and said, “not today,” and it wasn’t the end of the world, and I’ve learned from that, too. The point is: Stopping is a thing you gain with experience, just like going on and moving up are things that are also gained from experience. And all that, and we will err because … well, because we just don’t want to stop believing. We’re wired that way.

So, stopping is tough. And that’s not a bad thing for a horse, is it? All they really want is good things to eat and not to hurt. Everything else is our “never mind” as my dad used to say. I just hope if ever I have to that it will be easy and clear to decide to stop. That in itself is a difficult thing, so I wish for that for everyone else, too. That’s who we are. Go Eventing.

Progress: Charge into Change

Hamish, just woken from a nap at the event. Photo by Holly Covey.

This week, I had to learn a new test and deal with weather, in addition to getting more comfortable with an upward change in height and the requirements of that level. I almost wrote “charge” there, instead of change, because I almost felt like I was charging into this whole season, guns blazing. In fact, one of my friends even wrote, “so you’ll be moving up to Training next week,” after I posted about getting around OK on Sunday at Novice.

Noooooooo …. not yet! Sunday I knew that the Novice would suit my horse, and it was quite comfortable for both of us, yet the challenge forced a few errors that need some practice to fix.

First, dressage. You know, when you have been riding for over 50 years, it’s a bit discouraging to get a 6 on your position in the collectives. That’s barely above average — like I’ve only been riding 10 years. Yikes. Guess I need some more video and some eyes on the ground. What am I doing? I must look like a gunny sack of kittens strapped to that saddle! Hmmm. Not a good visual.

And the other bad news is, the horse is really, really smart, and is very very aware he’s doing a dressage test in the ring in front of the judge, and when that occurs, there’s really no need to listen, nor respond the same way to the aids that he does in the warmup when Mommy really MEANS it. When Mommy means it in the ring, you can fluff a little because, well, it’s the ring, and the judge is watching and you want to do it because you can. So we also are probably going to have to get to a dressage schooling show sooner or later and pretend the judge isn’t there and it isn’t a test – plus carry a dressage whip.

On to jumping. The rain began in earnest, and it was a bit chilly, as well. Usually I plan on wearing stuff to suit hot weather, but this time it was not really very warm. Our times took place in the morning, which was fortunate. The ground was a bit soft, and the first thing I got in warm-up for show jumping was a bit of spook at a pile of unused showjumps in the end of the warm-up area. I stuck to the “little warm-up” with only a few jumps, got a pace that felt good then it was my turn.

Sometimes you think you got it. Sometimes you hope you got it. And sometimes you know you don’t have it but are in there and have to do it anyway. I felt like I was slow, then fast, then slow, then fast, but was able to get a fair round out of the rain, footing, and downhill distances. We pulled a rail going downhill on the second jump, a vertical which was not very big, but I did not have him balanced enough, he was quite close to it and I of course tipped forward, and he couldn’t clear it.

Landing after some of the show jumps was a bit sticky so I knew that cross-country might have the same sort of problem. I made sure to let Mr. Know It All look at a couple of the bigger solid cross country jumps out in cross country warm-up and jumped two of the spookier ones just to make sure he was aware it was solid stuff coming up.

Off we went! I think he was again a bit unsure that is was “on course” and not “schooling” because he expected to be pulled up after two jumps. Instead, I got up in two-point, kept asking him to canter on, and channeled our inner Badminton. “Put your brave pants on and keep kicking,” I thought. (Sir Mark Todd quote.)

When you ask your horse to do something, it is always your hope that you will not be out of position and interfere with him when he does it. I think that is something I really want to be able to do every time I jump a fence — not interfere — and help the horse when he takes off and lands. My first mistake on course was a downbank which I knew he would either leap or nearly stop to step off carefully. I trotted and squeezed and clucked, and got the Brave Pants leap. Well, when your horse does that you shouldn’t snag him in the mouth because your hands are down on the neck on landing — which is what I did. Darn it. He tries and I punish him. (Need more practice.)

Asked him to canter on after that error, and he forgave me so on we went. Cantered down the hill, through a couple of other jumps, turn to water, a little house in, and through the pond, and a little house out — all quite good with a little short to the first house.

We then went down hill to a ramp then ditch. I sat and squeezed and aimed a bit to the left of the mushed up footing and he took a flying leap, I was in the back seat fortunately, and he was a bit surprised at the drop — guess my sitting back didn’t register with him that it might be downhill. (Need more practice.) He sailed over the ditch and I let him trot comfortably up a steeper hill because we were both breathing.

I reminded myself in every spot where I had straight gallop room to breathe. I have to tell you, this is the first time I have really paid attention to breathing on course and I wish I had done this years ago with some of the other horses I have ridden. This course was longer with more hills than last week yet I think we both finished with more puff than last time, so I know trotting occasionally helped him.

Here’s a video, thanks to my friend Katie McIntyre.

The last fences were an upbank to a mound, down to a fence on the back – where I muffed the distance again — and the last fence, a wide but narrow table, which again I muffed. (Need more practice.) I think once we did the little footwork on the bank, he didn’t think he had to gallop on again — so I know I have to have more canter between jumps. If I were schooling, I think someone watching would have said, “do it again and this time, more pace.”

So the good news is a good solid completion, a rail in show jumping, and a good but trending down dressage test; his score was 33.3, plus the 4 for the rail, and we ended fifth in our division, which is very satisfactory, I think for one of the area’s more difficult unrecognized horse trials, and for a step up in height and length. Just to give you an idea of how tough competition can be at this venue, I was in second after dressage, and just the one rail moved me down three places. Time for a lesson or two before the next competition! (And….need more practice…..)

Update: Completion, Check!

My happy place. Photo by Merrilyn Ratliff with Monica Fiss Burdette’s camera!

I promised to update everyone on the progress I’ve made with returning to competing again in the sport I love. The progress report is “some more work to do” but satisfactory nonetheless.

I have learned I really do not need to stress over this. I do not need to overpack the trailer. I do not need to overpack clothing for myself (one pair of boots and breeches will suffice).  Don’t over-ride and don’t over-jump — you won’t be over-tired. And definitely park in the dirt and not the fresh green grass — makes the day MUCH easier and I’ll explain that in a minute.

Entering a lovely, long-standing unrecognized event held by our local pony club, I knew fairly well what to expect: great footing, good organization, friendly faces and a mild early season challenge to the courses. All was as expected and sometimes that’s really what you need to keep your confidence developing positively.

Surprises are part of the sport — you learn to roll with the punches — but to protect a sometimes fragile confidence you want to find a way to get the job done without drama or concern. Fortunately for me the day was quiet!

I think we give ourselves much too much attention; it is smarter just to walk it once and say, “Just canter around and look for the numbers.” Honestly the hardest part of the day was walking parts of the course in deep grass — my knee was a little tired from it all Sunday night, but I know I have to continue rehab.

I followed my epiphany of No-Sleep Saturday: “Don’t Over____ It.” As in over-warmup. Over-jump. Over-everything. And doggone, it worked. Still working on maintaining uphill balance for the duration of the dressage test, but most of it was pretty solid. We need work on stretching, and on straightness.

Following the mantra, I only jumped four warmup jumps — well, maybe five — crossrail, crossrail, vertical, vertical, oxer, oxer (I guess that is six.) The show jumping rode well — I asked for a steadier distance to three jumps that I knew I couldn’t get him round for. The two stride rode a bit snug but I “whoaed” before it, and I made the last jump also throttled back and short because it was a downhill vertical.

In our area we go straight out to cross-country following stadium so no need to warm up for it. I started with a hop over a tiny log and cantered on, the second fence was a bit weak so I asked for a more forward canter after and the rest of it was super. I opted to do a bank up to the bank down, while only the bank down was flagged, I wanted to make sure my big old boy didn’t have to be cranked around on the top of it, and wanted it to be straightforward to him.

The rest with one exception rode very well, he looked carefully at the water but let me canter him right down into it then trotted in front of my leg to the up bank. I trotted him up the steep hill so we could both catch a breath. There were a few more then a larger hayrack; here I made a mistake. I tried to use a downhill-uphill swale in front of the jump to develop a better balance, but it was further out from the fence than I thought I needed in order to get him balanced. So I waited til I was near the jump, and the distance was very off and he stabbed in a short one and clambered over it. Lesson learned — never too early to balance!

While we got a nice primary colored ribbon, my biggest concern was both of our fitness. I was breathing hard and so was he, and for only 14 jumps I thought that was not very good. But by the time we walked five minutes back to the trailer, both of us were breathing normally. That was all the actual metric calculation I could get, since you have to get your vest and helmet and gloves off, and loosen the girth and take off the bridle and put on the halter, then untack, wash down, remove studs and all that stuff when you solo event. So no numbers, just anecdotal evidence that we recovered shortly and should do more fitness work.

And … parking on the dirt meant Mr. Vacuum had to eat from the haybag, and not be reaching constantly to graze on the good grass part of the parking lot. This made for much easier day in terms of tacking up and untacking, as there was no tugging on halter for me all day, and no worries he’d get his lead rope caught on something while stretching down to try and snack on grass while tied. He actually slept in the horse trailer while I went on my course walk, so that also was a good thing for his first event of the year. I like that he has recognized when he is in the trailer he can relax.

So that was the day. I’ve entered two more and have a lot to look forward to including a move up to the next little tiny unrecognized level so more adventures later this month. Onward!