A few years ago, a junior rider came up to me after an equitation class and said that her mother was her trainer and that both of them couldn’t understand why she didn’t place in the flat class.  Although judges make few notes during a flat class, we do list the numbers of the riders and change their order on the page according to the performance of each rider, so I had a page I could refer to in answering her.

According to the way that most judges keep track of riders in equitation classes on the flat, early on the best riders are placed in a group at the top of the page and the worst are placed at the bottom.  In the middle are those whose ability lies somewhere in between.  When a rider at the top makes a major error, he moves to the bottom of the page.  The major errors include 1) the rider allowing the horse to pick up the wrong lead into the canter,  2) the rider allowing the horse to switch onto an incorrect lead at the canter, 3) the rider allowing the horse to break gait to either a lower or upper gait, 4) the rider posting on the wrong diagonal, 5) the rider losing one or both stirrups or his reins during the class, and 6) the rider being run away with on his horse.

I looked at my card and saw that the girl had started in the group at the top, then moved to the bottom because she had picked up the wrong lead at the canter.  When this happens, I strike through the rider’s number in the top group, draw a line from the first position of the rider’s number down to the very bottom of the page, then list the rider’s number and mark “XL” beside it, so that I can recall later why I changed the placement, if need be.

I said to the girl, “You started in the top group, but you picked up the wrong lead.”  She answered, “Yeah, I knew I did that.  I hoped you hadn’t caught it.”  This struck me as funny because she had said that neither she nor her mother—a trainer—understood why she hadn’t placed in the class.

There are some things that are basic to our sport, and everyone who is showing a horse should know these basics.  The faults I listed above will take you directly to the bottom of the class, so make sure not to do these things in the show ring.  Part of the reason they are penalized so severely is because they have to do with safety, balance, and obedience of the horse. They are concepts that should have been taught in the first year of riding, so they are severely penalized in even the most elementary classes.

Teaching your horse to pick up the correct lead or learning how to post on the correct diagonal are simply a matter of practice.  You should keep working on them until you can feel the leads and diagonals without looking down.  This issue of feel also extends to the rider’s ability to keep the horse in a steady rhythm—preventing an upward or downward break in gait—and sensing the horse’s balance so that the rider can prevent the horse from swapping leads.

The problem of losing stirrups can be prevented by strengthening the rider’s leg position (see http://annamullin.com/strengthening-the-riders-position), while the issue of a runaway horse is prevented by routinely practicing upward and downward transitions (see http://annamullin.com/downward-transitions-the-key-to-control).

If you’ve made a major error in a flat class, there is no need to ask the judge why you didn’t place.  The errors mentioned above are so basic to our sport that everyone should know them, even the smallest child in his first equitation class.

Sometimes it is perplexing to a rider that he could be very successful in hunter classes, yet not even place in hunter seat equitation classes, or vice versa.  I’d like to address this issue from the judge’s point of view.

First, when a horse and rider enter the ring for a hunter class, my focus is strictly upon the horse.  If it is a hunter under-saddle class, then I’m looking at the way the horse moves and behaves.   The horses with long, flowing steps that sweep close to the ground are placed in a group at the top of my card, and the ones with high knee or hock action and short steps are placed in a group near the bottom.  As the class progresses, the horses at the bottom only move up if the horses at the top make a big mistake—such as a break in gait, a wrong lead, a bucking spree, etc.  So, the rider may be hanging on like a monkey, but if the horse has a beautiful way of moving, doesn’t make a major fault at any gait, and remains calm throughout the class, then the horse may surface as the winner.

The same is true in a hunter class over fences.  If the rider is making all kinds of mistakes—such as looking down in the air instead of between the horse’s ears or letting his legs swing back in the air so that he really isn’t “glued on” very well—there is no penalty unless it affects the horse’s way of moving or jumping on course.  If the horse stays straight between the fences, maintains the proper pace so that it has even strides between fences on a line, and the animal shows great form over fences (with the front legs tightly folded, the knees even and above a line that is parallel to the ground, the legs clearing the obstacle without touching the top rail, and the head and neck stretched out and down to counterbalance the rest of the horse’s body), then the horse can win the class, even though the rider’s form is terrible.

Now let’s consider this same horse and rider combination in an equitation class.  On the flat, I watch the rider as he enters the ring.  Remember, I referred to him as “hanging on like a monkey,” so this is a person who doesn’t have a good base of support.  He would be hanging on because his legs and seat weren’t steady enough for him to keep his balance, and his hands would be his last resort for staying on the horse.  Even as the riders enter the ring at a walk, I’m already looking at their position—especially their legs.  The ones with a sound leg position—that is, a position forming a vertical line from the knee to the toe, the calf of the rider on the flesh of the horse just behind the girth, and the rider’s seat close to the front of the saddle near the horse’s center of gravity so that the entire leg is properly placed—go in the group at the top of the page.   Of course, I’m also looking at the rider’s upper body position and use of his hands, which should be following the horse’s mouth as the animal nods each step at the walk.  I’m also observing the rider’s eyes to see if they’re properly looking forward through the ears of the horse; and in upper-level equitation classes, I’m checking to see if the rider has the horse collected into a medium frame at the walk and maintains a steady, marching rhythm. (See a photo of the “Correct Position at the Walk.“)  I’d also like to mention that the riders who look great at the walk in the beginning of the class don’t always prove to have an effective position in the upper gaits.  When I call for the trot or canter, if the rider’s form begins to fall apart—for example, the legs don’t stay in place, the hands go up and down as the rider trots, etc.—or the rider shows that he lacks knowledge of bending, transitions, or frame, then he can quickly be moved lower down the page.

The riders who have a weak leg position—especially riders whose legs slide back and forth or who grip with the back of their legs so that their knees and toes stick out, robbing them of the security their legs could provide—go in the group at the bottom of the page.  Once again, they will only move up if the riders in the top group make a big mistake.

In the equitation over fences class, the rider “hanging on like a monkey” may have a very good round, just as he did in the hunter class; but this time, I’m not judging how his horse moves or jumps, other than faulting the rider if the horse makes an awkward jump due to the rider’s placement of it at a fence.  This time, I’m strictly looking at the rider’s form and technique.  If he is ducking in the air or letting his legs slide back and forth, then he’s penalized for big riding errors.  Just because he has a nice horse that is a “packer”—that is, carries him along even though he is as ineffective as a bag of grain—that doesn’t mean that he will place well in equitation.  Yes, the horse is wonderful, but it is despite the rider, not because of him!

I hope these observations are helpful to those confused about how hunter and hunter seat equitation classes are judged.  There are clear standards that we are required to adhere to as judges licensed by the USEF, and they can be found in the organization’s Rule Book .  Additional information on judging can be found in my latest book, the fourth edition of Judging Hunters and Hunter Seat Equitation.

Not too long ago, I was giving a clinic and noticed that one of the riders kept saying things such as, “My horse won’t stay on the rail,” and “My horse won’t go over the fence.”  The horse had been spooking at a group of auditors who were seated outside of the arena near one of the fences, and it was running out at the small fence, which was less than three feet high.

I suggested that the rider use an inside indirect rein (to keep the horse’s eyes away from the crowd and control the shoulder of the horse so that the animal couldn’t move the front end of its body out of the line of the fences) and use a firm inside leg to “wall up” the horse on the inside, so that the rest of its body couldn’t escape staying in the line of fences.

After hearing lots of excuses that began with the words, “my horse,” it occurred to me that the rider’s language said it all—I am a victim of my horse.  The way it is supposed to work is that the rider is the brains and the horse is the brawn.  When problems arise, we are supposed to “outthink” the horse—i.e., to get the advantage by quick or clever thinking.  To allow the horse to run out at a fence repeatedly is to allow the animal to outthink you.

Granted, the horse seemed upset when it ran out at the fence and shied from the auditors; but once the horse was away from that part of the ring, it was as calm as could be and would stand quietly in the middle of the arena on completely loose reins.  The horse, then, wasn’t really upset, but rather disobedient.  It wasn’t comfortable with the auditors, and it found the rider so passive in resistance to the disobedience that it was easier to run out at the fence than to jump it.

If we’re the brains of the partnership, then we have to figure out a way to get the horse over the fence without making the situation worse.  The answer is to use only what it takes to get what you want.  The aids I mentioned above will probably be enough, as long as you apply them as soon as you feel the horse starting to run out.

At worst, the horse may stop at the fence, but you should never allow it to run past the standards of the obstacle.  Once it has passed the standards, you have allowed the horse to gain a great advantage; so do whatever you have to do to keep it in the line of fences.

At best, you are able to get over the fence, displaying anything from a slight spook to a fairly awkward jumping effort, but at least getting from one side of the obstacle to the other.  Once you have gotten over a fence, it is much easier to jump it again.

If you can’t avoid a stop the first time the horse spooks and attempts a run-out, then switch your riding crop to the side of the horse that is bowing away from the fence, if it isn’t on that side already.   With the horse standing in front of the fence, use the stick on the barrel of the animal, right behind your leg.  Then, when you circle to make a second attempt at jumping the fence, be ready to use your stick again on the horse’s barrel if it attempts to stop or run out at the jump.

The language of success begins with the word, “I.”  “I” am having trouble getting my horse over the fence.  “I” am unable to keep my horse from spooking.  The word, “I,” is the language of responsibility.  It is an acknowledgement that the rider is responsible for the quality of the horse’s performance.  If you take responsibility, then you’ll do everything you can to improve the horse’s performance; but if you abdicate responsibility, you’ll be a victim of your horse’s whims till the end.

Whether you’re looking at a horse with the idea of purchasing it or judging a horse in a conformation, model, or breeding class, it’s easy to stay so close to the animal that you lose the bigger picture of how the horse is constructed.  The legs are very important because they hold enormous weight, so if the legs don’t stand squarely beneath the horse, you’re going to have soundness problems eventually, with the part of the leg that absorbs the greater impact being the site of the unsoundness.

The same holds true for the balance across the horse’s topline.  For example, if the horse is high at the point of the hip and low at the withers, then too much of the weight of the horse will be on the front legs. Consequently, the animal will travel on its forehand and always feel too heavy in front when you ride it.  This poor distribution of weight eventually will cause soundness problems in the horse’s front legs.

Keeping the big picture in mind, it’s important to think about the length and shape of the horse’s neck, for the head and neck serve as a counterbalance to the weight of the rest of the horse when it jumps. If the neck is short, the horse is limited in using it for a counterbalance; and if the horse’s neck is placed high on its shoulder, then it’s difficult for the animal to drop the head and neck in the air, which again compromises their use as a counterbalance.

Of course, there are many considerations in judging conformation.  If you want an in-depth look, you can find it in Chapter 3 of my latest book, the fourth edition of Judging Hunters and Hunter Seat Equitation.  No matter how much you learn about the specifics, though, don’t forget that a general picture of balance is extremely important when you’re considering a horse.  The horse is like a bridge that must have a level surface on top and strong pillars that are plumb beneath its body to equally absorb the weight.  The old adage, “a horse is only as good as its legs,” certainly is true.

To see the big picture, you need to stand back from the horse about 30 feet, and you can stand back even farther when comparing several horses in a lineup.  You may have been walking close to the horses, looking at every aspect of them in detail, but you won’t see the big picture of their balance–particularly as it pertains to the topline–until you step back and view the whole horse.