The Transition with Ben

So, I got a western horse. The western horse had no particular direction, but he was a western horse. I ended up at a hunter jumper barn. They must have shit their pants the first time Ben and I rode out in our get up.

Lime green EVERYTHING. All that was missing was lime green leg gear, and we got those eventually anyway.

Like I said, we didn't really have any purpose. For a while, the main focus was just staying on him. I'd always just wanted a horse; I'd never had any plans in mind. I thought if there was any way to do trails, that'd be fun, but on a 27 acre farm in a pretty developed area, that was out of the question. So we just...rode. Learned how to go through water.

Which was NOT easy.

But somehow, due to our environment and lots of peer pressure from kids five+ years younger than me, we got turned. We went from this...

To this.

  Never underestimate the persuasive power of kids who've grown up with whatever they wanted. There's only so much pointless brambling around you can do, english or western. And with no barrels, no cows to chase, and no western trainer to teach me to do reining or anything remotely productive with this horse, the change was inevitable. I got tired of going on rides through the pastures and woods with the kids, and either skipping the jumps they went over or doing the low ones in my western saddle and feeling like my sternum was going to be shattered by the saddle horn.

So, english it was. I bought a cheapie saddle at the local tack shop (which is now sitting in BO's basement as it didn't take even my inexperienced eye to realize it was crap and didn't sit me very well on my uphill/high withered horse) and started playing around. Not long after the BO and her husband sold their property to downgrade to a smaller "retirement" farm, I took Benny to our first hunter jumper show. We showed in Hopeful Hunter against two other horses. I knew absolutely nothing about strides, spots, and our opening and closing circles were about 13m and shaped more like amoebas. But we were competing against a fellow barn member, riding the BOs up and coming Trakehner/Hackney pony (you read that right, it was an experimental breeding), who was a heck of a handful, and a much younger kid who somehow managed to do a worse job than me on her old, steady little mare. We came out with a first and a second O/F and a first in the flat and recieved Champion. I was fit to burst!

I did manage to remember to fasten my helmet when I was in the ring, incidentally. The falling forward over the horse, however, that was in place the whole day.

I was INSANE with the victory. The BO made me proud when she told me the next day that I had taken this animal and turned him into something...I cried, and thought, "Onward and upward. We are going to be something."

It wasn't long before it became clear that Ben didn't have "it". He was, and remains, a fun, handy little horse that anyone can have a good time on, but I had a head filled with visions of grandeur, proving the breed bias wrong with my Arab who would be fancy, jump the jumps, and trump the big Thoroughbreds and Warmbloods and dazzle the judges with his bright eyes and tippy little ears. After a particularly bad ride one day, it all came crashing down on me that if I wanted to actually move up as a hunter jumper, it was not going to be on Ben. I remember calling my dad crying, saying, "Dad, I think I want to sell Benny." Thank GOD my dad has more sense than me, and was able to calm me down. I went home and thought about it, and the more I thought about it, the more I felt like an ass.

I did not buy a hunter pony. He was not born a hunter pony. He enjoyed jumping little two foot verticals, maybe the odd 2'3" fence, and could strut his stuff when in the ring at a show, but a performance animal he is not. I bought him to be my best friend. I bought him to have fun on, and to learn the ins and outs of horse ownership. I was not being fair to my best friend. The visions of grandeur dissipated, and I decided that Benny was more important to me than success in the show ring, and that him being my fun, cute little pony was worth more than anything, and was therefore enough for me. So we had fun.

I took him to two more shows after my epiphany. We didn't do so great at the second one; a larger class caught up with our shortcomings, but it was a special day anyway, because his old owner drove two hours to come see him and how far he had come. The amazement on her face watching him was worth more than any blue ribbon or starry eyed judge. Our last hunter show was an overnight show; the first time I'd ever taken him so far from home that he had to spend the night in a strange barn. He was wonderful. I was in a haze induced by tall boots that were too small (those of you who've ever had to break in new boots or borrowed a pair can probably feel my pain.) He took care of me and we came out reserve champion. We have since dabbled in some of our barn's dressage classes and gotten respectable marks considering what he is, and considering he has been a little jaded by the beginners he carts around now. I even rode him in a show last September, doing a "western dressage" class, since he was going for one of his little kids anyway. Of course we got whooped by, can you believe it, one of the hunter kids at my barn on her nice hunter QH, but danged if my Arab and his arched neck and flagged tail didn't turn heads. He loves an audience.

He is now a jack of many trades, master of none, and seems to like it that way. The variety keeps life interesting for him.

Every once in a while, I dig out the dusty western saddle and we go have a good time.

We have most of our playtime bareback, though. I can do anything on him, and I usually come out of the ride with a smile on my face and in my heart.

His old spunk is never fully tamed, though. He is always him, true to the core. And I love him more for it.

However, the more integral he became to the barn lesson program, the less and less I got to ride him. Some days he'd be free and we'd have fun, some days the BO would let me ride a random school horse... but for the most part, the old days where I would ride him every single day and have him all to myself were gone. Something would have to change.

In the meantime, there was Taylor.