Hunter/Jumper?

Prior to throwing myself headlong into braiding professionally earlier this year, I had limited experience with the hunter/jumper world. Back in “the day” I schooled my green event horse over a cross-rail course at a local hunter show once. We couldn’t stop chuckling over the “course” - outside line, outside line, outside line, outside line! It didn’t even change directions. That was quite comical to us eventers.

In college, the hunter/jumper orientation of the equine studies program was quite in-your-face. I competed on the dressage team, and there was no doubt we were the red-headed step-children of the program. To be elite meant to be a hunter princess, and to promptly discard any horse with the nerve to have an independent opinion or an off day. That made it quite difficult for me to admire this collection of supposed horsewoman who were the stars of the school.

In any case, I have proceeded through most of my life with little understanding and a mild disregard for the hunter/jumper discipline as a whole. Honestly, why waste your time when you could be eventing?

I once worked for a wise horseman who told 20-year-old me that age softens people and wears away the sharp edges. Eight years later (don’t laugh, I know I have plenty of aging left to do), I’ve already noticed that he might be onto something. Don’t get me wrong, I have plenty of sharp edges, but I am less quick to categorically reject an entire aspect of the equestrian world, and more apt to seek the positive in anything I possibly can.

In any case, when I get a chance to watch the showing at these big shows where I’m braiding, I keep an open mind. I consider different perspectives. I try on different “lenses” and strive to understand the one which suits me best without having to attack or hate the others.

Last week, I caught the jump-off of a junior jumper class over fairly sizable fences. Aside from watching a big Grand Prix here or there (along the lines of the premier class of the Washington International), this was actually my first time watching a jumper class in person, and I found it fascinating. First of all, I understood the appeal for the first time. I was able to grasp why it is engaging and fun to test one’s skill and communication against the clock and all those fragile fences. I actually found myself thinking, “I could see Finn and I doing that one day!”

A little higher than what I have in mind, but you never know...

The horses were, of course, gorgeous and talented jumpers one and all. The winning horse was exceptional in her ability to jump clear from seemingly any approach, tearing around the course looking horribly out of balance, yet still able to make tighter turns than anyone else and miraculously spring into the air at any moment. To be frank, I thought it was an ugly ride… I wish I had realized it would be the winning one before it started, because I would have watched with different and more attentive eyes. No one else was daring enough to even attempt the inside turns she took, so I never got to see if someone else could do it better.

At one point, a lens slid into place that momentarily made me consider the whole thing as somewhat barbaric that a horse should be expected to drag a human being around the course by his mouth like they do. At the same time I know these riders have very strong legs and balance, but truly the amount of pressure between hands and the horse’s mouth is truly quite astonishing when you haven’t become acclimated to it. To watch these riders at times lean back and HAUL on their horse’s mouths made me cringe, especially since in most cases the response from the horse was negligible. Since respecting and nurturing the natural sensitivity of the horse’s mouth is a crucial element of my approach to horsemanship, that was difficult to swallow.

I was surprised how heavy and loud the horses were… with POUNDING hoofbeats and labored breathing. (There was one notable exception; one horse who barely made a sound as she galloped by, and her round was beautiful.) It’s no wonder I didn’t see the tight inside turns made very often. On the whole, the horses were simply not adjustable or balanced enough to try it. Communication between horse and rider was a far cry from what would be needed to cut those corners successfully.

Now, who am I, some lowly little eventer who wasn’t even shown in ten years, some student of natural horsemanship on the trail of some level of possibility I catch glimpses of here and there, to judge? And I pose that question to myself honestly, to remind myself not to be too harsh. I can appreciate the skill of the riders I watched and the effort they invest into what they do. Frankly, though, while I’m interested in their sport, I am certainly not interested in doing it that way. If that means any competing I do becomes more a personal test between Finn and myself and we never win anything, all the better.

But I’m not here to declare I’m going to do it better. I am here to wonder: can it be done with lightness? The method of riding which keeps a rider off a horse’s back over the big jumps demands a different position and balance then that which I’ve learned to use in my pursuit of softness. I can see that it is challenging to ride a horse at those speeds over those jumps and keep everything truly relaxed and together, but I cannot yet concede that it’s impossible. I think of the lovely rides I’ve seen in the Working Equitation speed trials and wonder if it would be possible to bring that astounding level of agility and communication at speed to a jumper class…

In the end I have a lot of questions and a vision of the jumper course I’d like to ride one day. A course in which I can bring my horse from flat-out gallop to a bouncy canter in a stride -- with a shift of thought, a shift of weight, and maybe a whisper on the reins -- turn him over his hindquarters and gallop in a new direction without even stretching his lips. A course which is a string of transitions and graceful leaps, in which my horse breathes no harder than he would if he were frolicking in the pasture. A course which is ridden with no headgear but a simple snaffle and a loose noseband, never giving him a reason to throw his head or open his mouth. And in which, after charging through the finish line, he drops to a flat-footed walk on a loose rein and knows he has done superbly.

Of course, in the immediate future, my thoughts are less dreamy and ambitious. Eventing is scarce in northern Nevada, but there IS a local hunter/jumper circuit. While I’ll never NOT be an eventer, trying our hand at a new sport might be a fun diversion until I can afford mutli-day events that are long hauls away. I am inspired to declare that I think taking Finn to some of the local hunter/jumper shows would be fun and very doable next year! And who knows where that might lead…

Gratuitous braiding shot.