Last week I tried the hunter horse, who turned out to be not-such a hunter horse. He was actually bred by the O’Connors (yes, those O’Connors) specifically for eventing. To make a long story short, he had spent the last couple years doing low-level hunters and being a lesson pony, but his calling is definitely the cross country field.
I fell in love with this horse the moment I met him and he met me at the front of his stall and basically put his head in my arms. He was fun on the flat, green to contact, but with a big engine and fairly responsive. His jump was phenomenal. Even though we only did baby stuff (because apparently I’m a weenie jumping new horses), he rocked back and just thrusted off the ground every time, without hesitation. Every. Time.
What sealed the deal for me emotionally was the trail ride. We all know by now how much I loathe trail riding, but when the owners suggested I try him in the woods I decided not to look like a p*ssy and just go for it. And you know what? It was amazing. More than amazing, in fact. We cantered through a creek, over ditches, took the lead and cantered down the trails and over logs, and happily hacked on the buckle.
But you’ve already seen the post’s title, so I’m guessing you know where this was going. Another PPE, another no, another evening at a local bar commiserating with a friend over a glass(es) of wine. I’m bummed, certainly, but I’m moving forward. In a moment of do-it-or-die, I purchased tickets to Kentucky (thanks priceline, for being all mysterious as to my leaving anywhere between 8am and 10pm). I get there Saturday evening and intend to cram as many horses into a 24 hour time frame as humanly possible. Onward and upward (er, westward) as they say.