 |
|
|
|
|
 |
 |
|
||
 |
 |
|
||
|
||||
 |
|
|||
|
||||
|
||||
Trail JudgeSeptember 25, 2006 Yesterday I judged the trail class at Crow Hollow Farm's annual fall horse show. Can't remember ever judging anything that wasn't of a literary nature, but I've ridden in a few trail classes, do a lot of trail riding, and am lucky enough to be hooked up with a damn good trail horse, so I figured I could do an OK job. Trail classes are an endangered species on Martha's Vineyard: for years now, Crow Hollow's has been the only one held at any island show. This is too bad, because unlike the usual local horse show fare -- walk, trot, walk, canter in one direction; reverse, walk, trot, walk, canter in the other; line up, please -- they test the ingenuity of the rider, the sensibility of the horse, and the ability of horse and rider to work together. A trail class is basically a course of obstacles the sort of which one might encounter on a trail ride. Crow Hollow's Kristian Strom designed this one to take advantage of the terrain on which it was held: a pasture that includes several clusters of trees, a little upgrade, and a gate, with -- thanks to the rain of the previous days -- a nice muddy puddle on the far side. Plenty of horses don't like to get their hooves wet. I could tell a few stories about my adventures with Allie before I persuaded her that given a choice between the monsters possibly lurking in a big puddle and the bramble thickets on the banks to either side, she was wise to choose the water. Crow Hollow's approach to teaching horsemanship is evident in the fact that the trail class, like the fitting and showmanship class that opens the show, is required for all riders. There's no entry fee, and it counts toward the coveted show championship, which comes with a spiffy fleece cooler (a blanket generally used when cooling the horse out) and a tricolor ribbon as long as some of the contestants were tall. Even the youngest students for whom the posting trot is still a challenge rode the course, accompanied by an assistant on foot. The judge got a bit of a workout too. The first part of the course -- a small loop through a fairly dense stand of fir trees -- could be observed from one vantage point, but then she had to follow the rider through the gate (and the puddle) and make a circuit in the middle of the field to monitor the riders as they negotiated the obstacles around the perimeter -- at least two dozen times. Rhodry the Supervisory Malamutt observed from a grassy patch near the beginning of the course, where quite a few of the kids fussed over him. He thought it was a pretty good gig, though rather short on cookies. Few of the horses and ponies balked at the puddle. Moving a raincoat from one fencepost to another down the line was challenging to quite a few; equines are prey animals by nature, and their instinct is to avoid unfamiliar flapping objects. Some were reluctant to approach the jacket, others edged away once the rider had it in hand, and one panicked, bolted, and dumped her rider (who was on her feet before we managed to catch her mount). Backing up between the fenceline and a couple of railroad ties is harder than it looks, and several ponies stopped for a bite from the hay bales they were supposed to jump over. But by far the most challenging test was the last: opening the gate, riding through it, and closing it again. On the most quiet of days, this requires adept horse handling and a responsive horse, but yesterday the wind was a serious force to be reckoned with. Only four entrants managed to close the gate from on horseback; everyone else exhausted their two attempts (judge and course designer set a maximum early on), then had to dismount and do it on foot. How would Allie have done if she'd been there? Pretty well, probably, though she tends to be a bit wiggy on windy days. Who knows, she might have taken a strong dislike to that uppity raincoat. I hung around till the end of the show, watching the gymkhana (game) classes and yakking with parents and kids and stable crew. Allie and I were at Crow Hollow from its beginning in May 2000 till late fall 2003, when we left in search of quieter digs and better trail access, so we're part of the unofficial alumnae association. I was pleased to see that two high-placers in the trail class, Kellyn Conklin and Jess Kelleher, turned out to be the show's champion and reserve champion, respectively. I was also pleased that the best trail score was turned in by an adult, Stephanie Dreyer. It wasn't till after I got back into horses in my forties that I did the math and realized that my grandmother had been in her seventies all those times she looked after my horse when I was stuck in some after-school activity. The horse sorority -- and on the amateur level it is overwhelmingly, though not exclusively, a female world -- is a transgenerational one. That's one of the things I like most about it. To my surprise, I received an honorarium: a bottle of wine, a box of chocolates, and a check. Pretty good for a day's not-working!
|
|
|||
|
||||
|
||||
|
||||
 |
|
|||
 |
|
|||
Home - Writing - Editing - About Susanna - Bloggery - Articles - Poems - Contact Copyright ©
Susanna J. Sturgis. All rights reserved. |
||||