Ah, the magic of Facebook.
Denny Emerson and I are “friends” on Facebook.
Now, to be fair, I’ve never been formally introduced to Denny, but I have always admired his long-standing dedication to both distance riding and eventing. During Ned’s first 100 in Vermont, we rode together for a mile or so, and Denny complimented my horse. That further raised my opinion of Denny and his excellent eye for a quality equine.
Not too long after that, I had the privilege of hearing Denny speak at the AERC Convention, where he captivated the audience with self-deprecating tales of his life around horses. His humility and his love for the horse came through crystal-clear (not to mention his razor-sharp wit) and I found myself alternately laughing hysterically and brushing away a tear as he spoke.
I’ve read his columns in The Chronicle of The Horse, and a candid girl myself, I appreciated his well thought-out but frank opinions on eventing and horsemanship.
It was done. I was an official member of the Unofficial Denny Emerson Fan Club.
Like so many others, including Denny, I got bitten by the Facebook bug during the last year or so, and we became “friends.” This is a dubious term, of course, since Denny has 1,023 friends and, as noted above, we have never been formally introduced.
When perusing Facebook (aka “wasting time”) a week or two ago, I saw a post he made and a photo he posted about a past VT 100-Mile CTR he’d ridden. Labor Day Weekend is the 75th anniversary of this beautiful and challenging competitive trail ride, so I popped him a reply to ask if he was planning to attend. He replied that the horse he was planning to ride had developed a cough. I sent a quick note asking if we should try to find him a horse to ride. His reply:
“Can you?”
Well, darn it, I could!
I sent Denny a quick private message, letting him know that my husband and I had already planned to attend the VT ride with two of our horses. I gave him a brief introduction to Ned, who I’d not planned to take to the ride, saying he was fit and capable of going the distance in Vermont (he is four for four on the Moonlight endurance rides, twice finishing the 100 there), and as long as Denny wasn’t interested in a perfect final score, Ned could probably take him around.
Denny accepted.
We haven’t spoken yet, but I’ve found myself with the perverse desire to try to explain Ned, who, as I’ve told people repeatedly, has adequate personality for an entire herd of horses.
So Denny, my friend, here goes …
Dear Denny –
I can’t tell you how humbled I am about your taking me up on my offer to share Ned for the Vermont 100 Mile CTR next month!
I’ve been struggling with the temptation to send you a note to try to explain the profoundly quirky character that is Ned. I chide myself then about the fact that you’ve ridden hundreds, nay, thousands of horses, and that surely Ned cannot be the oddest, the most opinionated, the most ego-driven horse you’ve ever met.
But since I’ve owned the big lug since he was a four year old (the classic 30-day-training-wonder with no power steering or brakes) and he’s now sixteen, well, there’s probably a few things you might want to know.
Only horsepeople with a profound sense of humor would understand the theoretical wisdom in breeding an Arabian to a Trakehner, which is exactly what Ned’s breeder did. But since my other competition horse is an Arabian/American Saddlebred cross, I obviously have a well-developed appreciation for the absurd, and no lack of patience for horses who could generously be described as “complicated.”
In summary, here are the good things about Ned:
For an endurance horse, he is a big horse (16+H) and a powerful mover. He has absolutely no problems with the climbs you have around GMHA, and he thinks a wide open gravel road is the world’s best trail; thus, he loves Vermont. He rides far more like a Cadillac than a Jeep Cherokee.
He is all about Ned. He will eat, drink and take exquisitely good care of himself. He will slow down if he is tired and you’ll never have to worry about him getting too close to “the edge.” Ned has never seen the edge. I don’t think he’d recognize it, even from a distance.
With no intention of bragging, he’s a pretty responsive and well-trained horse. While our dressage is embarrassingly rusty, Ned can go down the trail round, can bend, will yield from your leg, is happy to balance softly on a steady outside rein, can rock back on his hocks, will swap leads handily and is pretty even behind.
Here’s what can be challenging about Ned:
Ned has an opinion. On everything. (I blame the Trakehner heritage for this trait.) He does distance purely for the free buffet, and figures his rider is in the picture simply to steer him from one buffet to the next. He will let you know if you tighten his girth too quickly, if he thinks the pace is too fast or too slow, if he’s tired, or if the horse behind him is too close for his comfort. He will let you know if it’s too hot, or if that grass on the side of the road MUST be eaten, if he would prefer to ditch the horse he’s traveling with, or if this downhill is too steep for his liking. He’s brave about most things, but if he decides something is frightening, be prepared for an enthusiastic expression of fear.
Ned has a topline only a mother could love. His back has been great this season, but our chiropractor suspects some kissing spine, or something similar, in his SI region. It explains his aversion to steep downhills, but he’s been pouting about those since he was four with never <knocking wood> a lame step, so a couple thousand miles later, I simply watch saddle fitting like a hawk, and spend outlandish sums getting him massaged, adjusted and myofascial released. It seems to be working.
Ned, when fit and feeling good, is difficult to keep on the ground. On the level, going up hill or down, his head can suddenly disappear between his front legs, which is when the leaping begins. The good news is that I think it is fairly safe to say that you might have some equitational and training skills (may I recommend the arret?) that will allow you to maintain a more earth-bound Ned. This might prevent him from interfering and walloping himself as he sometimes does when he is flinging his long legs around like a giraffe, saving you a few points on the final vetting.
Ned is thermo-regulatory challenged. His comfort zone is approximately 55 degrees to 70 degrees. Below that he will shiver and look miserable, particularly if it is raining. Above that, you will have to watch his core body temperature and cool him early and often. Ned gets cranky when he gets hot (see above re: opinions) and I’ve learned over the years that it is FAR less effort to keep him cool than to cool him down once he’s gotten hot. I’ve gotten my younger horse almost hypothermic once or twice cooling him like I cool Ned.
Last but not least, there are a couple of anatomical pecularities about Ned which I should probably share. One is that he’s missing part of an ear, the result of a meal time skirmish with our herd-dominating Morab gelding, who we did not realize was carnivorous until that very moment. The other is that Ned has a proclivity for airing out his male genitalia at just about every opportunity. The vets who know him know this but it does make his vet trot outs a bit less than textbook, and um, sometimes a bit wide behind.
I think that’s it, Denny. If I didn’t think Ned would show you a good time, I wouldn’t have offered to share him, but I do appreciate that there are a lot more straightforward horses out there. He’s a humbling beast with a twinkle in his eye, and he never fails to make me grin, even when I’m cursing him out.
Happy trails.
-Patti