A Legacy of Horses, Children and Their Ponies

I spent the better part of the past weekend working as a volunteer at a horse trial, an annual equestrian competition in my beloved Old Chatham area of the Hudson Valley in upstate New York - the heart of northern Columbia County's "horse country."

A friend of many years who grew up in the area once told me that in the previous century, Columbia County was the primary supplier of horses to New York City. My own more recent experience (marketing New York State's legendary Erie Canal for tourism and recreation in the 1990s), reminded me that an engineering marvel of a waterway - the Erie Canal - had singularly propelled western migration and opened new markets in a relatively young America when first completed in 1825, catapulting New York City into commercial prominence.

Earlier, New York City was just another port on the eastern coast. But by the mid-1800s, the City had emerged as the country's pre-eminent trading port, primarily as a result of its prime location at the gateway to the Hudson River. That majestic river provided direct access to the Erie Canal, a distant 150 miles to the north above Albany, and, in turn, to the Great Lakes and the wild, untamed frontier beyond - pushing New York into its dominant position as the premier global commercial and financial center that it retains to this day.

The demand for horses to serve as conveyances and beasts of burden in the bustling metropolis that was New York City continued thoughout the Industrial Revolution of the mid-to-late 1800s, and well beyond the turn of the century. It was a ceaseless demand that the livestock farmers of Columbia County helped to meet for many decades. And it continued unabated until the advent of the automobile in the early 20th century, when the use of mechanical horse power supplanted the living, breathing, hay-burning kind. Only then did that once-thriving equine industry in the lush pastures of the Hudson Valley gradually decline. But, fortunately, the equine heritage of the region survives in discrete, and beautiful, rural pockets surrounding New York and beyond, including in Old Chatham.

A reflection of that bucolic area's equine legacy, the weekend's annual horse trial was a one-day competition based on the Olympic sport of "eventing." It is a modified competition that tests the skill and ability of horses and riders in a sort of equestrian "triathalon." The competition's three phases - dressage, stadium jumping and cross-country jumping - are based on the military training of the cavalry horse and rider. The military mount of years ago needed to be tractable, obedient, agile and to demonstrate a level of boldness, endurance and stamina that would ensure the soldier's ability to prevail in battle - a rather tall order for any beast.

Similarly, competitive "event" horses must be obedient, tractable and supple in a dressage arena - demonstrating their ability to walk, trot and canter willingly and easily on the flat, and yet be invisibly responsive to the rider's signals (or "aids"). They also must have the endurance needed to gallop and jump various natural, solid obstacles along a an undulating path that covers some distance, and do so within a specified period of time. Then, they must recover from their cross-country efforts and still have the stamina to do even more, by jumping yet another short course of frangible obstacles in a more confined arena, before their competitive efforts are completed. Only the fittest and ablest prevail in this all-around test of horse and rider.

A veritable "three-ring circus," eventing is a sport that attracts more than 14,000 participants in the U.S., and it is dominated by adult amateurs - mostly female - who compete primarily at the sport's lower echelons: beginner novice, novice and training levels. (The number of riders competing at the more demanding upper levels of the sport - preliminary, intermediate and advanced, including the international and Olympic/World Championship levels - are relatively few, comparatively, and that also is where male riders emerge in greater numbers.)

Most of these adults are purely recreational riders - it is their leisure-time hobby of choice. While many have the means to engage in it actively (and horses are never a cheap date), often, due to work or family pressures, they can't spend as much time as they would like in perfecting their skills. Some may have trainers who care for and train their horses during the week, so they can ride on weekends. Some, of course, can and do ride more often, and keep their horses at boarding stables, or keep them and care for them themselves at home. Some may take regular or occasional lessons and may ride periodically in clinics (master classes) with renowned experts.

But for most adults who also work, their horses and riding are an important part of their worlds, but not necessarily the primary focus of their lives. For many of these recreational riders, the opportunity to compete beckons especially loudly. Competing provides an opportunity to take one's horse somewhere other than around familiar, home turf. It provides a means to see how one might fare against others on a par with one's own experience and abilities. For some, it also satisfies an ego need to go out there and show what they can do. It also can provide a useful a barometer of one's skill level or progress. For others it's just an excuse to go somewhere new to gallop and jump around a course of obstacles they haven't seen before.

Given the nature of its penalty scoring, to be successful in an eventing competition one must understand and be able to apply effectively the basic principles of dressage. No longer can the horses that excel only at galloping and jumping steal the competition from the others with less accomplished jumpers. One must also excel in dressage to succeed. "Dressage" means "training" in French, and it is in mastering these basic training principles, even at the introductory levels offered at this competition, that the rider can begin to understand how the horse operates and must demonstrate that knowledge. It is a crucial elelment, because it forms the basis for presenting to the horse the later challenge of jumping various types of obstacles in the safest and best possible way - but all of this is much easier said than done.

An eventing competition can be exhilarating for a rider. It also can be daunting. And it can be phenomenally frustrating. And it can get expensive comparated to a sport like golf or tennis, for example. But, like most recreational sports, it provides a chance to engage in your passion along with other people who also enjoy it, so there's usually more camaraderie than cut-throat competition. It's more often about you versus the course, not you versus all the other horses and riders in your division. Above all, it can, and it always should, be fun.

Of course, anything to do with horses, and especially ponies - the most humbling of all equine creatures - is inclined to attract children. I became a victim of their magical pull when I was 9 and, fortunately, I've never looked back. So, there in Old Chatham yesterday, it was the youngest of the children competing in this rather demanding equestrian sport of eventing, who, totally unexpectedly, commanded my attention - and simply blew me away!

I was able to watch, at various times, all three phases of this competition in Old Chatham. At one point during the day, in an event predicatbly dominated heavily by adults, I watched a succession of three Junior Beginner Novice riders - the lowest level of the younger competitors - enter the stadium jumping arena to negotiate a course of about 10 obstacles set at about 2 1/2 feet in height. The jumps - rails, gates, panels, rounded roll-top boxes, etc. - were framed with gate-like "standards" to secure the rails or panels. All were brightly painted and beautifully decorated with silk flowers, live flowering plants and shrubs. They were lovely, but their visual beauty disguised their ulterior purpose - to test the "distraction factor" as much as to test the horses' jumping abilities.

Some horses' uncertain perceptions of some obstacles succeeded nicely in catching out the more inexperienced and wary horses and riders. The "weak" were weeded from the pack and mercilessly shown where the holes in their training and experience - or just plain confidence - still existed. The penalties one incurs from one's horse knocking down a rail, or refusing to jump an obstacle on the first (or second) attempt, were costly reminders for the riders affected, and this served to lower their standing in the competition as a whole - if they managed to escape the dreaded three refusals and elimination altogether. It can be a humiliating experience, and certainly royally embarrassing.

So I watched with some trepidation as a little girl trotted into the arena on her equally tiny pony - a bright, perky chestnut with a big white blaze on its face - and dutifully asked him to pick up a sprightly canter. Whoa, wait a minute. This little girl - dressed in her crisp white shirt and khaki jodphurs with knee straps to keep them securely in place - clearly was intensely focused and authoritative. She was a little girl on a little pony on a very big mission. And that little pony clearly got the message - no fooling around. One by one this clever little girl and her pony jumped around the course, negotiating each obstacle smoothly and neatly out of stride. As she moved from one to the next, she turned carefully and adjusted her pace where needed, always looking ahead to the next jump as she landed from the one before. She guided that pony so deliberately and effortlessly around the course that I literally couldn't believe what I was seeing. The pony clearly wasn't doing this all by itself. The course was not at all straightforward - it asked all the questions that a course design should ask of riders at this level. Not just can you jump the jumps, but can you steer, can you regulate your pace, can you adjust where needed, can you work out the distances (striding) to make it easy for the pony (or horse) to jump the next jump, and can you keep everything - including your brain and your anxiety level - under control and not "zone out"?

Well, this little rider - who probably was no more than 10 years old - put in nothing short of a text-book round on how to jump a course in the show ring. It was a thrilling sight to behold. It was literally masterful. I was stunned.

Now, I've seen the best in the world compete in this challenging sport, both here in the US and in the UK, over the past 23 years. They have nothing on this impressive young equestrienne except size, age, and maybe just a few more miles in the saddle and a few more, and somewhat bigger, jumps under their belts. But she did her job beautifully, and she had that pony listening and doing his job. They left all the rails in their places and negotiated the course safely within the time allowed. It was so awe-inspiring that I - and the rest of the crowd of 100 or so people gathered around the taped barrier that defined the grassy jumping arena - erupted loudly with applause and ebullient cheers. She rightly deserved them.

But that wasn't the end of it - not hardly. The first rider was followed immediately by another little girl on another cute, very small pony. And she did the very same thing! Another flawless round, jumped smoothly and quietly. No jumping faults, no time penalties. This was amazing.

It gets even better. Those two were not anomales. A third rider, a young boy this time, came into the arena on his pony and repeated the perfect performance yet again! This was unbelievable. I was starting to wonder who the trainers of these kids were because, whoever they were, they clearly had prepared those kids and those ponies extraordinarily well. This doesn't happen by luck or accident. It takes hard work and dedication by a young rider, a good pony, and that extra little bit of very special talent. And it showed a quality of teaching skills that is still more rare than common these days when anyone with a barn and a few horses or ponies can hang out a shingle and claim to be a "professional" instructor.

The highly charged enivronment of competition - any competition - can be frightening at worst, and mildly anxiety-producing at best. That stress often shows up in the riders and the horses at the most undesirable times. It's classic performance anxiety and it can be nerve-wracking to the point of melt-down. It can be humbling for even the most accomplished corporate excutives with the loveliest of horses and poshest trainers money can buy. Maybe kids are less concerned with it. Maybe kids these days have nerves of steel the likes of which it took me about 35 years to cultivate. All I know is these three young kids were nothing short of spectacular little equestrians - and they clearly put some of the adult "weekend warriors" with expensive horses and solicitous coaches utterly and summarily to shame.

Those little kids rode the pants off everyone in the competition - at least in the stadium jumping phase. Their little ponies could really jump and together they were having the time of their lives and, in the process, showing everyone how it should be done. I had all I could do not to burst with excitement and enthusiasm for them, and with pride in what they clearly had accomplished in that show ring on a hot, humid summer day in mid-July in the historically horsey community of Old Chatham, New York.

And it reminded me, yet again, why I so love horses, and why, like those kids, I wanted badly to learn to ride when I was their age, and why I still love riding and watching people of all ages ride to this day. Nothing can compare to the simple, uncomplicated joy that sitting atop a beloved pony brings to a child. Whether one is 9 years old or many decades past 9, one can't experience in any other way all the fantastic places that bond with a pony can take you...all through your life.