Now, I haven't shown on the big circuits by far, although I did take a trip to the Gold N Grand a few years ago and cleaned up nicely there. However, even on the small-scale circuits, there are some majorly snobbish attitudes going around. I know of one in particular--it was one of those mother-daughter teams, who were IT and no one else could even compare. To them, everyone at the show should just go home and not bother, because Miss 'Tood Junior was going to whoop everyone to shame and clean house. This was on the 4-H circuit, by the way.
When I first met 'Tood Junior, she had two rather homely horses, a palomino and a roan. The palomino was her pleasure and equitation horse, and the roan was for trail, horsemanship, and showmanship. They were nothing spectacular, but they were good babysitters and they got the job done. The first time I came across the mother-daughter duo was at one of my first 4-H shows with my mustang mare, Lilly. We were showing walk-jog for fun, not expecting much but hoping for the red or even blue ribbon. She was a darn cute mover and often was mistaken for a Quarter Horse, and she took great care of me. My first meeting with the duo consisted of me witnessing their lunging process.
I was far from an expert at that point, and I naively though that lunging consisted of a horse moving on an established but good-sized circle, with a person on the inside tracking the horse's hip. It was not so with these two: Mommy Dearest would hold one horse off to the side, barking instructions at her daughter, who stood still in the middle, lunging the other horse. In fact, Junior wouldn't even turn to follow her horses. She would raise her arm holding the line OVER her head while her horse circled around her, in varying shapes and sizes of circle.
I showed against Junior for years after that. She went through horses like last week's laundry, in varying degrees of good-natured-yet-homely. She was the stereotypical western rider; she spurred, she yanked, and she rode her horses into the ground. I had to wonder if her going through horses so quickly was attributed to one of the plods finally having ENOUGH and drawing the line; soon enough, I was proven correctly.
After I had beat Junior out for the High Point End-of-Year award in western (on my non-pedigree mustang), she came back the next show season with a stunning gray mare. The mare did it all, and she no longer needed two horses. She was beautiful, dappled gray and a fluid, natural mover with a kind eye and a big heart. I was sick with envy that show, watching and glowering as her show machine beat me in every class but one; equitation. I remember nearly busting my buttons as I rode up to get my blue ribbon, though the feeling quickly faded when I took a bathroom trip after my congratulations. Junior and Mommy Dearest were in the bathroom, and Mommy Dearest was not happy.
"How can you let that girl and her mustang beat you?" Mommy Dearest was hissing furiously. "I want you to get on that horse and work her until she can't lose anymore."
And work her she did. The show was over, and the officials had gone home, but Junior obediently climbed up onto her gorgeous gray. The mare was startled at first, but quickly settled into her job. You could tell she loved to work, and did everything Junior asked for, despite the rough way she demanded from her mare. I watched with horror as Mommy Dearest stood on the sidelines, barking at her daughter to "jerk harder" and "spur more" until the mare was heaving and sweating. There were no breaks in their after-show ride, and around and around they loped, swapping leads in the center of their figure eight. The gray, amazingly, did everything Junior asked, despite being ripped into on both her sides and her mouth.
Until I saw that flash in her normally kind eyes, and knew that the gray mare had reached her limit. At the center of their figure eight, as Junior jabbed into her side to ask for a lead change, the gray mare pinned her ears and swished her tail. Junior jabbed harder, at Mommy Dearest's instructions, and jerked on one side of her mouth. The gray gave another swish and a head toss as a warning, but the mother-daughter duo saw none of it. Again Junior jabbed, and yanked, but this time the gray gave no warning. She planted her feet and stopped, abruptly, in a way that would make most reiners proud. Junior was thoroughly unseated, but she settled herself back in the saddle, and began to saw and spur away, not even needing an order from her mom. The gray arched her back, a sure sign of what was to come, and in turn received a few jabs in her side with the spurs.
The gray, I now knew, was not going to give any more warnings. With the next spur jab, she leaped forward, unseating Junior once again, who spurred her in the flank with her left foot, which had fallen out of the stirrup. In turn, the gray mare began to buck--hard. After one and a half bucks, Junior sailed out of the saddle and did a plus-ten face plant, skidding in the dirt on her brand new Hobby Horse show shirt. Mommy Dearest shrieked, and ran forward to see if her daughter was alright, startling the mare who trotted off a ways. Not wanting her to run off, I quickly walked up and grabbed her reins, giving her sweat-drenched neck a well-deserved pat.
I was just in ear shot when I heard Junior spit, "She threw me! We need to sell her!"
Apparently Mommy Dearest agreed, for when she ripped the gray's reins out of my hands to stalk back to the trailer, she asked me if I wanted to buy "the nag." Before I could answer, Mommy Dearest and the horse were gone.
I never saw the gray again. My trainer told me that she had gone to a sweet, spur-less, soft-handed little girl who was racking up ribbons and trophies on the 4-H circuit just north of us. I had smiled at that point, simply because the mare was one of my heroes and still is to this day.
My question is, when has a horse had ENOUGH? When do they draw the line? Junior's riding was extreme, even in the western pleasure world, and I'm sure that her other horses also got fed up and threw her. I never saw them for more than a season, and after every show they were growing more and more upset; more frequent ear pinning, tail swishing when they were spurred, and pinched nostrils signaled their irritation. At what point did the light bulbs turn on in Junior and Mommy Dearest's heads, so they would realize, "Maybe these horses are bucking her off because she deserves it?"
I think the light bulb finally did go off with that beautiful gray, because I did not see Junior or Mommy Dearest ever again, just like that mare.