Young Horses and the Best Laid Plans

The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry, but not nearly as often as those of young horses and humans foolish enough to invest their emotional and financial well-being in adolescent half-ton animals with self-destructive tendencies.

I bought my young horse as a foal nearly four years ago. Countless vet bills, months of full training, hours of tack walking, and a couple of mental breakdowns later, I am far from any chance of steering down a centerline. Most days, it's a miracle if we can steer in any general direction at all.

It's easy to be mesmerized by the young horse classes full of impeccably conditioned and mostly behaved equine prodigies effortlessly flying around the arena at prestigious championships like the Festival of Champions. Young horses foster dreams of the future with unknown potential, sometimes seemingly limited only by the imagination of their owners and riders.

But anyone who has dared pursue a goal involving a horse of any age is all too familiar with the innumerable ways such plans can self-implode, sometimes spectacularly. Unfortunately, young horses seem exceptionally talented at finding creative detours from any predetermined path. And more often than not, those detours are paved with repetitive vet calls for mysterious injuries, human butts dumped in the dirt, and other general chaos.

Nox arriving home in Virginia.

Even after they somehow manage to make it through the first three years of life alive, many challenges still stand between that horse and a successful career in the competition arena. After experiencing some of those challenges firsthand, I have so much more appreciation for the luck, grit, and determination necessary for a combination to succeed in the young horse classes, let alone make it to Grand Prix.

Like many others, I had envisioned a smooth progression of training milestones and excitedly planned a timeline of competitive goals. But when my horse was finally old enough to start under saddle, I promptly remembered that horses don't follow timelines.

With quick reactions and a sensitive disposition, my horse took much longer than most to learn how to carry a rider. I am so thankful to have trusted his education to an incredibly gifted young horse trainer I met while working for an international rider. With patience and consistent training, he blossomed into a confident and trusting partner.

Inconveniently, the beginning of his riding career kicked off with a string of veterinary fiascos that began with 30 days off for a splint caused by kicking himself in the hind leg and culminated in a collateral ligament injury from a miscalculated step on a small rock.

After spending a winter venturing down the medical rabbit hole, an MRI confirmed that my half-started coming 4-year-old would need a lengthy rehab of tack walking and monitored turnout at home. My next six months consisted of mornings spent anxiously observing his every move in the field and afternoons spent carefully following the vet's instructions while attempting to keep the playful, energetic baby horse as entertained as possible.

Our first ride together.

I would have felt pretty sorry for myself if all I saw were the social media photos of horses his age already winning ribbons at shows. But, thankfully, my self-pity was kept to a minimum by tales from friends and old colleagues of the young horses currently hidden at home behind their barns.

Some had horses that developed an impressive ability to dislodge their rider. Other youngsters found it hilarious to stop for an enthusiastic barrel kick in the middle of the ride. Plenty had also found their own unique ways to max out their owners' credit cards at the vet clinic.

And sadly, some lost horses before they even had a chance to discover which antics they possessed. I had personally experienced such loss when my first horse passed away suddenly just before his third birthday from a rare congenital disease.

That heartbreak stays with me to this day. Yet, even in the most misfortunate circumstances, it reminds me how lucky I am. Every pre-dawn alarm to muck out the stables, every step of hand walking, every tour around the field looking for pulled shoes, and every minute spent dressing the latest bumps and bruises is a privilege.

The decision to start over again in the face of such devastation was a deliberate choice to believe. Not to believe in dreams or fantasies but to believe in a horse. Even the quirky, cheeky, overly enthusiastic, somewhat hilarious, and sometimes problematic ones.

A big field of happy baby horses.

When you have a young horse from the beginning, you learn nearly everything about each other. Through the inevitable trials and triumphs, you have the opportunity to form a deeper connection than most people ever do with another living thing. The plan starts to matter less and less, and your partner starts to matter more than you could have imagined.

Of course, they'll always find something stupid to do to drive you further into madness. They won't follow your training timeline, and sometimes they'll suddenly forget how to turn left. But between all the self-inflicted injuries and occasional delinquent behavior are moments of joy that reignite the spark that makes young horses so special.

Wins don't always come in the form of ribbons and trophies. Sometimes those wins are the first civilized canter transition and, most importantly, a happy and healthy horse. This sport is too demanding, and these horses are too fragile not to celebrate those wins. 

Training a young horse provides countless opportunities for things to go awry, but nothing is more rewarding than the fleeting glimpses of hope when they don't. 

You don't need to attend the Young Horse Championships to feel that potential. You can find it hidden behind barns and turned out in big fields. Sometimes you just have to believe in your horse, brush the footing off your butt, and keep getting back in the saddle.