Good girl!
What’s your favorite eventing moment? Why do you do this silly sport that wastes so much time, money, and can cause so much disappointment?
I don’t know about you, but I do it because there is one simple feeling you cannot create doing anything else. It’s that moment when you blast through the finish line, pull up, pat your horse, and drop the reins. The horse’s ears are up, eyes bright, head nodding, bursting with pride and accomplishment, telling the whole world “LOOK WHAT I JUST DID! I’M AWESOME!” When a horse says that, it always makes me smile– no matter if we just finished an Advanced course, or a first-time baby cross-country school.
I just did a first-time cross-country school with a green mare last week. She’s 8 y/o, OTTB, and sat in the field as a broodmare for three years (had two foals). When I started riding her this winter, she was completely new at everything. Leaving the barn was scary. Passing by trees and rocks was scary. Clumps of grass were scary. And those terrifying jumps in the arena? Incredibly scary. She was spooky, reactive, and had no confidence in herself whatsoever. Getting her to walk over a pole on the ground took ten minutes of nervousness.
But you know what’s neat about this mare? She tries her guts out. All it takes is one “Good girl!” and a pat on the neck; her ears flick forward, her eyes focus, and she doubles her effort to do what you ask. She’s incredibly sensitive to leg and hand aids, so I have to be careful to be gentle and tactful, never asking with too much pressure. That day she walked over the pole, I told her “Good girl,” and came around again; her ears locked on it, she straightened her own body, and determinedly marched right over it. I thought, “Hmm, she may make a good horse yet.”
Fast-forward a few weeks, she was still fairly spooky going near jumps in the arena, but she had gained a ton of confidence in me. I started asking her to pop over low crossrails– she was very worried and confused the first attempt, but praise on landing was all she needed. She learned jumping made me happy, and she became willing to try anything! I guarded her confidence, never asking for too much too soon, as I know she’s still pretty fragile. She worked up to low gymnastics, where I was impressed by her agility and boldness; often, the sea of rails makes many green horses back off, yet she attacked each new addition willingly. I was encouraged.
It’s my belief that once a horse has the general concept of jumping understood (approach obstacle: lift legs, get to other side) it’s time to go out cross-country. Cantering in a good rhythm, following a buddy over little logs does wonders for their confidence. It’s much more natural for them, than jumping colored sticks off tight turns in an arena. So, with low expectations, I took the green ex-broodmare out for her first cross-country school. She had done lots of hacking over our back hills, crossing the creek; but she had never been away from home. I figured she’d be a little nutty, but hopefully settle enough to jump some tiny logs and pop on and off a low bank. Fellow EN writer Will.Groom.For.Food was kind enough to babysit us on her super steady prelim gelding.
As predicted, the mare was a little bit nervous in a new place. There was some sideways trotting, bouncy cantering, and looking around. But she settled quite quickly and began to enjoy herself. My fears of her spooking at every jump, rock, and bush were unnecessary. She hopped over the lowest 18″ logs with a bit of apprehension, but that was quickly replaced with enthusiasm. Again, over every effort I praised her with big pats and “Good girl!”s. Any tension in her body melted away, and she would try extra hard at the next one. We moved on to the bigger 2′ logs, and her confidence kept growing. She was incredibly fun to ride– naturally balanced beneath herself, very light in my hand, responsive and willing.
We wandered throughout the cross-country course, picking off inviting beginner novice fences as we went. Suddenly some novice fences looked do-able, so we tried them too. The mare was jumping with gusto, attacking each new challenge and looking for the next. We walked through the water, then on and off low banks. Nothing fazed her anymore. We ended up down at the coffin, where Will.Groom.For.Food had fun jumping her guy over some prelim stuff. The mare was enjoying herself, so I figured we’d try to hop over the ditch. She propped strongly the first time, but leapt over it like a deer. Big pats, lots of praise. Came around again, she locked on, broke from a trot to a canter four strides away, and cantered over it smoothly. I looked at the training level half-coffin– the same ditch, two strides to a 2’9″ log, and decided to give it a try. The mare handled it with ease, like she’d done it all her life. I praised her immensely, but she already knew she was good.
We walked back to the trailers on a long rein. The mare’s ears were fixed forward, eyes bright, strutting around like she owned the place. She wasn’t just “a horse” anymore, she was a cross-country horse. I’ve ridden at the Advanced level, I know the thrill of finishing a huge tough course… and yet the pride of a green novice horse still makes me smile just as big.
That’s why I do this sport, for those simple moments of confidence when the horse has had as much fun as you did. It’s not the ribbons, the scores, the glamor or glory…it’s the connection you build with a special creature who’s willing to do crazy things for you simply because you asked them to try.
