I need your stories for my 'horse culture' project
hey everyone! ok I am mostsly looking for your experiences with 'nasty' people. A lot of people who are not very horsey don't seem to understand that some really mean and hurtful things can and ARE often said at horse show. If you could keep it under 200words that would be great since these are going into a powerpoint. I will only be using screen names as quotes unless you would prefer me not to just let me know and I wont. Just make sure we are clear I will leave an example of my own:
"The announcer revealed that Dartanion & I were the winners of the series Open buckle. A girl that was completeing against me dropped her mouth open and turned to her mom and said "what the (explicet)?!" and her mother turns to her and tells her (this girl is 17 mind you) "She only won because she does Hunter Hack." When really out of everyone going for the buckle SHE (well and two other girls) didn't do hunter hack while myself and three other girls did. I asked to see the points sheet and if I hadn't done hunter hack I still would have beat her by 20 points."
thank you everyone!!
It was the first time I’d brought my newly purchased three year old gelding to the riding school. My instructor and I had gone rounds over my buying a barely trained young horse, especially without her approval. This horse was special. I knew he was the perfect animal for me. The first show of the season I pulled my parents minivan to a stop at the front entrance of the old barn. Behind the van was an old brown and beige farm trailer, I had to chain the back doors shut because the hinges were loose and they threatened to fly open at any given time.
A small crowd quickly formed around the barn entrance waiting to see this grand animal that I had so proudly described to them during our Thursday night lesson. He shoved the side compartment open with his nose the instant I turned the latch and out popped his dusty head. I quickly grabbed his ragged heart covered red halter and shoved him back enough to untie his lead rope. He began backing towards the door, he obviously knew the routine because I had to push his rump forward enough to unhook the inner safety cable before pulling the wobbly door open. With a clatter of clumsy hooves my new gelding was off the trailer and sounding an arrival call while he pawed the air above my head with a teetering rear. After a few minutes of prancing and tossing his head he finally calmed enough for me to untie the bailing twine that held his ragged oversized blanket in place.
Pulling the frayed cloth aside I stood back proudly as if I’d just unveiled a great statue. Here was my pride and joy, standing so proudly. The crowd, I could tell was in awe, not one person made a sound, that is, until the young rider from gosh knows where walked by with his high dollar Appaloosa-looking pony; the one named Spike. He stopped for a moment taking in the sight, gauging his competition I was sure.
“You are NOT really going to show that farm pony here are you?” He asked with obvious disgust. I felt the smile fade from my face and couldn’t help but allow my shoulders to sag as I looked around at the faces of my fellow riding mates. They hadn’t been awestruck at all, in fact, they’d been in shock. I could see it now, one girl even had tears in her eyes. I looked back at my grand purchase again, this time with scrutiny.
He had a hole in his face, right about at the cheek bone that was draining a yellowish puss and that side was severely swollen, but I knew as soon as I got the infection cleared he was going to have a wonderful head. His eyes were a little on the dull side but they were so full of wisdom for such a young horse, I was sure I could see his thoughts. His coat was shaggy and he had starvation hairs across his tummy, his ribs showed terribly, but some people like a little rib on a horse, that’s what the previous owner had said, although three of my fingers could fit in the dip between each one. His mane was so badly tangled with briars and knots that I was going to have to roach it, but that was all right, these were all things that could be fixed with time. He had chipped hooves that were badly in need of care and his tail was either chewed or rubbed off, but I could tell he was going to be the perfect show horse. He had what it would take and I was sure of it. I looked around at my friends and then glanced at the boy, who would later be labeled “Snot Boy”.
“He’s a pretty color.” My friend Amy, who never took less then a second and the occasional third place ribbon with her sweet floppy eared quarter horse mare offered.
“I like him.” Kelly, another classmate chimed in. “In a year, I’ll bet he’s a totally different horse.”
“I know he will be.” I ensured them, smiling so proudly……
At Bandit's first halter show, he was up against one other weanling -- a little bay AQHA named 'Tex', handled by the local 4-H and horse club leader's (also a judge for this show) teenage daughter. Bandit was a scruffy little mixed breed pony, just weaned scarcely three months before and had never been around more than four people at once, much less outside him home property. His mane flopped on opposite sides of his neck, and a particularly stubborn grass stain was just barely visible on his right hind sock. Plus, I was prone to forgetting which side of the horse to lead from, and Bandit was trained on soft grass rather than sand. But, this was a $3 open show, and Bandit needed exposure to a show setting.
We waited patiently at the gate, standing a tail's length away from the meticuously groomed AQHA colt and his color-coordinated owner as the previous classes horses strode out and collected ribbons. Bandit reached out and tried to nip a pretty yellow one as an excited child waved it before him. The girl beside me eyed him up and down, made a small noise, and straightened her shoulders. I didn't mind. Then she commented to her nearby mother, "We've got this one in the bag. That backyard farm girl isn't any competition."
I retorted with, "This backyard farm girl's horse isn't pooping on it's own legs."
The girl panicked and looked at her horse, who stood placidly, doing nothing of the sort. "Why would you even bother to enter an inbred pony like that anyway? She'll never win anything, so you might as well go back to your auction house and buy something with papers."
The horses were called, and so I chose to merely bow her into the ring and refrain from commenting. She huffed and led her colt in at a pretty little trot, stopped, backed up, turned, and then walked into the line up. As she tapped Tex's hooves into a appealing pose, I was waved in. I paused to past Bandit and readjust the lead before clicking him into a trot -- he started off with a crow hop into the ring, then dropped into step with me. His reverse is usually a little rusty, but he backed beautifully, as if to prove a point, and then swung his hindquarters around as I directed him to face the judge. He parked himself with three feet perfectly square, the third just a tiny bit ahead of it's match, and his head and one ear tilted ever so slightly in my direction, as he was wont to do when he wasn't sure. I smiled a little secret smile at him and flicked my thumb across his chin as a sort of reward.
The judge came around, and Bandit turned his head once to watch him circle the other colt, then remained staring at the crowd ahead of him as his turn came. The other colt shifted and took a small step backward.
When the announcement began, I breathed a little sigh of relief that Bandit hadn't acted up or gotten bored, and that was good enough for me. I made a mental note to take him straight to the sugar cube box hidden in the truck. And then the placings were announced, with Bandit in first place, followed by Tex. I failed to notice the other girl's reaction, as I was trying to wrap my brain around that... a judge patted my shoulder and pointed me at the gate, and I led Bandit forward, in front of Tex, and looped back to the gate. Bandit suddenly stopped just outside the gate, let out a loud neigh, and reared unsteadily, leaped forward, and pranced all the way back to the trailer.
Not long after, I passed Tex's owner's trailer -- a big fancy white slant with customized writing down the sides -- and happened to overhear, "How could you let a stupid mutt like that beat you? You didn't work Tex before the show, did you? That's what you did wrong! Look at that trailer they're driving -- it's obvious that horse hardly got any training. It was a fluke that it didn't bolt and kill someone!"
Sorry, I think that's over 200 words. ^^; You can shorten that as needed.
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