Why I Don't Miss Horse Shows

Today was a big horse show weekend in town, the same show I attended full-bore last year, spending lots of money, renting a stall, pissing off the horse, and amassing a large collection of last place ribbons for my trouble.

I had no plans to attend this year, if the thought surfaced, however briefly, it quickly popped like a soap bubble to be replaced by throat-clutching revulsion. Instead I watched with amusement the other folks at the barn fussing and preparing their horses for the big weekend. Quzqo got to wear his manure stains all weekend, his muzzle was unshaved, his hooves unsanded, my brand new box of French White chalk remained unopened in the back of the tack cabinet. And a wonderful feeling of calm and peace replaced the stress and nerves that I normally would have felt.

I did go to the show this morning, to WATCH. That's the bad thing about showing, you never get to watch the show, because you're busy in the back of a trailer trying to squeeze into your breeches or looking for a safety pin or wiping green drool from the horse's lips. Took plenty of photos of unusual horse colors and patterns, and watched the Pleasure Type halter classes, knowing that Quzqo would have cleaned up, looking at the ribby, elderly mares that would have been his competition. But he already has a nice collection of Pleasure Type Championship and Reserve Championship rosettes. Who needs more hollow victories.

There were a LOT of ribby horses being shown. You shouldn't be able to count their ribs from across the arena. Is it the economy, people can't afford the hay? But they can afford to bring the horse to a show and pay the entry fee. To be fair, I did see a significant number of downright fat horses as well. At least the judges placed those who seemed to be in the best condition, pleasantly padded but not obese, trim but not ribby.

I watched some people already in the practice arenas in their Huntseat garb, some in Western tack, no sign of anyone showing harness. The pattern for the trail class was frightening, and I was glad I wasn't showing. Yes, I'm sure Quzqo would have enjoyed backing through a serpentine of cones, and pausing on top of a wooden bridge so I could open a mailbox, show the letter to the judge, close it, and continue on. Uh-huh.

The show broke for lunch around 11, and I'd had my fix. That afternoon I went to the barn and saddled Quzqo up for a 3 hour trail ride, where I found myself with a goofy grin on my face at random moments. We probably did as much as if we had gone to a horse show, with walking, trotting, cantering, hand galloping, a trail course, backing, side-passing up a road shoulder to avoid a pick-up truck coming towards us on a two-track. I know I had a much more enjoyable afternoon, it didn't cost me anything, the horse was happy, and I wasn't exhausted and hadn't cried all day.

I don't fault anyone for enjoying horse shows. Please, continue on. You need to be a certain personality to be good at it, and your horse does too. It's obvious neither I nor Quzqo are that personality. So we'll just do what we enjoy, you do what you enjoy, and I'll come watch, and maybe I can convince you to come on a trail ride with us some time.