Despite splash factor, horses soar

As a kid, I devoured Marguerite Henry’s books, studied grooming manuals, and begged my parents for a horse. I even wrote Henry and asked how to get them to relent. Her note of commiseration came with a signed copy of “Born to Trot,” one of her classic horse tales. 

We lived in Helena, so horses weren’t out of the realm but my whining only abated with riding lessons. Later I developed an allergy to horses, which finally dashed the dream. 

Still, I made it to horse heaven when I volunteered for The Event at Rebecca Farm last month. 

In its 25th year, the international equestrian showcase drew 650 entries. Kaleb Turner, the driver taking jump judges to assigned spots on the cross country course at 7 a.m., said as we bumped along the dewy 640-acre property, “The rumor that’s floating around this year is that this could be an Olympic qualifying thing.”  

Formerly called “militaire,” eventing originated as a way to test military horses for fitness on and off the battlefield. The sport encompasses dressage, cross country and show jumping. 

Volunteer and horsewoman Kate Templeman briefed me as we took our place on the course, one with a pond and tipis clustered just before jump (or “fence”) No. 9. As judges, we observed horses and riders at a cadence of one every couple of minutes, then announced their performance by radio to the other judges and recorded it on paper. 

The intervals filled quickly if we had to reset rails that had been knocked down or had visitors. Other riders and coaches came around to survey the jumps and take photos. The horses can’t take practice runs, so riders do reconnaissance. 

The horses came at us at a canter, having just passed through the two-part fence of 8A and 8B. Some riders had trouble negotiating a shallow ditch between those jumps, called a “coffin." 

At one point the judge there radioed, “Horse down, rider down.” Another horse turned tail, without its rider, and ran off. I asked Templeman if anyone would try to catch it and she smiled from beneath her sun hat, “It’s just going off to see its buddies.” 

After the coffin, our jump posed a different problem. I wondered aloud why a huge creature could be so trepidatious about a pond. “They’re prey animals,” Templeman said. 

Riders coaxed with a singsong “It’s just water,” a “You got this” or “Listen to me!” as their horses risked the unknown. Then came the jump. Some horses balked, and we noted the refusals.  

“There’s the I can’t and the I won’t,” Templeman said, stressing rider-horse communication and trust. 

Most completed the 16-jump course in the hours-long horse parade of palamino to pinto, and gray to bay, and from what Templeman called “chunky ponies” and quarter horses “trucking along” to “thoroughbreds who just want to run fast and jumps are on the way.”  

A few days later I returned to reset rails for show jumping. Afterward I hitched a golf cart ride alongside 6-year-old volunteer Valkyrie Moody, who’s already done a mini event. 

I asked what her favorite part of The Event is. She didn't hesitate: “The horses.” 

Margaret E. Davis, executive director of the Northwest Montana History Museum, can be reached at [email protected].