I’m back, folks. 

It’s true that I’ve been on sabbatical from my human management columns for some years now, but have no fear, your sensei has returned. And your sensei isn’t all that happy with you.

I’ve spent the past couple of years retired from the Show Human Circuit, happily ensconced in a great equine therapy program where I work with kind riders who are appropriately grateful for my ability to stand still and eat treats. In other words, I’ve finally found the life I’ve always so richly deserved, with Humans who have reached the very highest levels of enlightenment and, frankly, need no instruction from me, only friendship.

This is not a warm reunion, dear readers. I have seen dispatches from the start box and the sandbox that remind me just how quickly some Humans can start to think they know more than they do. You know you’re the only species who has this problem, right? Luckily, I find I still have the patience to provide you missives from the pasture on the things I think you still need to know. 

We’ll cut right to the chase, since many of you have wrapped up your show seasons and are already thinking ahead to next year. Since I stepped away from the show ring, I understand there is a new round of dressage tests in use at shows these days that could use my expert eye. 

The first thing to remember is that these are called dressage tests for a reason. You will not all pass. Some Bipeds may pass out, but although I have plenty of issues with dressage judges, I agree with their overall philosophy that there is basically no such thing as perfection. The best you should probably be shooting for would be the equivalent of a C or a D in school, which should be a familiar experience, no? 

Let’s take a look at the 2023 USEF Training Level Test 3, which is frankly much higher than my Biped should be attempting with her current equine instructor, but that’s a whole other story. 

2023 USEF Training Level Test 3

Each test within a dressage level seeks to add a new element of difficulty without going so far as to totally bump you up a level. A false sense of security is really what it’s about. In this test, the goal is to suddenly confuse the Biped’s sense of direction … or, more accurately, emphasize to her that she never had one to begin with. 

I’ve highlighted a few select moments from this test that could really use some extra focus. Feel free to read alongside the official rubric here, since memorization and recall of the test may not be your strong suit. At least, not based on that last schooling show, eh, friend?

1. Enter at A, working trot/halt, salute at X/proceed working trot: 

Humans often worry about finding X, which is difficult for them because there’s not a giant sign with a boldface letter marking the exact spot for them. As we know, their vision does not function the same way as ours, and they are apparently totally blind to space and distance without these very, very large letters. For some reason, at horse shows they are also incapable of putting letters in alphabetical order, which doesn’t surprise me.

This is the first in many mistakes they’ll make in these 5.5 minutes. Most of them will never make it to X because once they pass A, they’ll forget to breathe, let alone steer. Quadruped instructors should emphasize this defect by traveling exactly where they’re told, which will often not be in a straight line. No one, outside a human completing a roadside test with a police officer, ever walks in an exactly straight line, let alone trots in one, and we shouldn’t be expected to do one for free, either. Perfectly symmetrical contact on each rein is absolutely key here. 

2. C Track left/H-X-K begin a single loop to X returning to the track slightly before K: 

I love this test for throwing this curveball at them basically right away. Chances are that the Human will still be swaying slightly from side to side, hungover somewhat from the drunken sailor entrance down centerline, so asking her to chart out a purposely squiggly line is hilarious and mean. Because the Human doesn’t really know where X is, she definitely won’t be able to complete a half-serpentine while also hitting it. 

Most Humans get lost somewhere in the middle of this, or else they get to X and then forget which way we should all be bending as we return to “the rail” as mine calls it, never able to remember which letter is which. (They are IN BOLD, PRINTED FOR YOU ON SIGNS, OMG.) 

Take this moment to improvise. Hide your pilot’s incompetence with a little dance. Perhaps an unexpected leg-yield. A little pirouette. An impromptu transition. Go bold or go home.

3. Between A and F, working canter, left lead: 

Does the Human know which lead is which? Check by offering the wrong one. My successor likes to pause as he lifts one front leg, asking for confirmation before committing to a lead. If all else fails, he gives her one lead in the front and the other in the back. 

4. Circle left 20 meters at B: 

By now your rider will likely be so dizzy that a circle will be welcomed—or at least instinctive—but her concept of how far 20 meters is will probably be totally shot. So is roundness. Help her by breaking to trot. Break to walk if she seems really confused. 

Stop and point out X so that maybe, one of these days, she’ll find it on her own. Help her by drawing the shape in the sand with your toe. 

5. H-X-F change rein; working trot at X: 

She still doesn’t know where X is. 

6. A, medium walk: 

Oh, thank god. 

7. K-X-H free walk: 

“Free” is the operative word here. I find this a good time to scratch my nose, sigh loudly, or sometimes, poop. If I’m bored, I kind of wander around to demonstrate the “free” part of the movement.

The next several movements are repetitions of what you already did going the other way. This is because Humans are often much weaker on one side than the other, and the judge needs to know which hand to put the tissue in at the end. 

12. B, circle right 20 meters in rising trot, allowing the horse to stretch forward and down: 

OK, I shouldn’t say this, but the truth is I bribe dressage judges to under-score this movement every time. There simply is no stretch that is “enough” because it’s mathematically impossible to give me “enough” rein. I don’t care if you’re holding the buckle, it’s not enough rein, got it? I am exhausted. I am ready to lay down for a nap right here, and anything short of that is just not enough compensation for this test, which by now is starting to test me as much as my Biped. So if you were hoping to make up points here … don’t.

13. A down centerline/X halt, salute/wipe tears: 

What Humans call “sportsmanship” is, I think, more accurately described as knowing when you’ve lost and dealing with it before you have to watch everyone else get the pretty ribbons. Hopefully, she’ll hold in her tears until after the salute so it’s not part of the score. But if she can’t, I expect the judge to make their thoughts on the outburst clear. 

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Jitterbug is a Michigan-bred Professional Draft Cross who skillfully avoided saddles until age 5. Since then, she has been lauded for her talent in successfully managing humans while training herself to one day achieve eventing greatness. Jitter and her human live in central Kentucky.
Read all of Jitter’s COTH columns.