Here we are in Williamston, N.C., for our first real show of the year. Lots of good omens: On Thursday Fender walked on the trailer like an old pro, Ella ate, no traffic and the sun was bright and shiny.
I’ve never been here before. The Agricultural Center is out in the middle of flipping nowhere, but it is a LOVELY facility—great stabling, well laid out. The footing in the indoor is pretty terrible, but they drag it regularly, which helps, and it’s a facility used for all kinds of animal activities, so I suppose they have to make it versatile to meet the needs of western folks, Saddlebred folks, etc.
We made the trip in less than 5.5 hours, which included a leisurely rest stop break in the middle, and everyone came off the trailer polite and very chill. Unloaded, got everybody settled, blah, blah, and then to work.
The Grand Plan with Ella was to just hack around, walk-trot-canter, to see the rings and save my Best Horse for Saturday. And she was so sweet and quiet in her stall that I thought, “Yay, we’re over the horse-show-drama.”
Whoops.
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She was a nut. Not any nuttier than any of the shows last year, thank goodness, and nowhere NEAR the nutty spectrum that was Devon. But she was very tight and gave me the flat-out FINGER about going past this shadow in one of the outdoor warm-ups, which is WAY not normal for her—she can be spooky, but she’s normally a bolter, not a slam-on-the-brakes-and-blow-off-your-legger.
Fortunately, she does not show today, so we’ll have another school (if I can stick to The Grand Plan, today will be a little piaffe-passage, a pirouette each way, and the ones, but no guarantees of that).
Next up was Fender, who I longed a little preventatively, but really didn’t need to. He was a pro. A little up, of course, and a little looky in the covered arena I started riding in. Scott got tied up in his other lessons, so I worked Fender a little, then took him for a stroll around the rings he’d be showing in, wanting again to conserve him for the show—he’s got a class every day, and just isn’t that fit.
So we walked around the show arena. It was very windy, with the tents flapping, and he was like well, you say it’s no biggie, so I guess it’s no biggie. He thought the noise the sand made when he kicked it up against the plastic dressage ring was a little disconcerting, but he settled. And as I was about to take him home, he LAUNCHED. Double barrel kick back (and I did not have my leg on at the time, so I KNOW it was just BS), and a leap into the air.
I don’t freaking think so, buster!
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So we had to canter around a bit more, until we had a smile on our face and said, “Oh yes, mom, whatEVER you say, of course, I serve at your pleasure.” And then we hacked back to the barn like an old lesson pony and got many carrots.
Midge was mostly himself—he started pretty good in the warm-up, though tight, and then turned into a turd before I finally got him a little through. I hate the whiny spooking. You Are Not Scared. You Are A Big Show Horse. Grow Up.
He settled, eventually, and he’ll continue to improve as the weekend goes on, like he does. The 4-3 shoulder-in on the centerline is going to be a boondoggle, and there’s no guarantee he can count to three and breathe simultaneously, but here’s hoping.
My poor student Mel had a bit of a hair-raising trip down—she blew out a tire outside Richmond—but her horse arrived cool as a cucumber, and she had a TERRIFFIC lesson. And then we all went out to eat at the one restaurant around and crashed and burned into bed, and here we are to do it all again. Ho hum, another day, another horse show.
Today is 4-2 for Midge and T-1 for Fender, both later this afternoon. That gives me plenty of time to school Ella into what will hopefully be a complacent-but-enthusiastic calm. Cross your fingers!
