The Plaid Horse

10/24/2025

We were in the middle of a global pandemic when it began again. While others were catching COVID-19, I came down with something just as potent—Horse Fever. A long-dormant, incurable condition I hadn’t experienced in over 30 years came raging back, and there was no vaccine.

As a kid, I was the one who skipped dances and parties to muck stalls and ride ponies. My weekends were spent cleaning tack, attending Pony Club rallies, and riding shotgun with our vet on barn calls. Everyone knew I was headed to vet school to specialize in equine medicine. Then, at 17, everything changed.

Seemingly out of nowhere, I developed severe allergies to horses. My throat would close, my eyes swelled shut, and hives would erupt across my body. It was devastating. I wouldn’t discover the likely trauma-based trigger until decades later, during a mandated teacher training. But at the time, all I knew was that I had lost the thing I loved most.

During COVID, my mom gifted my brother’s granddaughter a riding lesson. When the day finally came, my mom and brother insisted I tag along. “You’ll be masked. Just bring your inhaler. And don’t touch anything!” Famous last words.

The moment I walked into the barn, it felt like coming home. Every part of me ached to touch a velvety nose or run my fingers through a forelock. I lasted five minutes. When no one was looking, I leaned into a horse’s neck.

“Becky! Get away from that horse! We’re in a pandemic—we can’t go to the ER!” my mom yelled, panicked.

But nothing happened. No hives. No wheezing. No tears. I pulled off my mask. I was fine. Actually, I was more than fine. And the Horse Fever? It kicked into full gallop.

A week later, I was back in the saddle.

By BECKY HOPKINS We were in the middle of a global pandemic when it began again. While others were catching COVID-19, I came down with something just as potent—Horse Fever. A long-dormant, incurable condition I hadn’t experienced in over 30 years came raging back, and there was no vaccine. As a ...

10/24/2025

The hunter/jumper industry is in the midst of the indoor season, where the top horses and riders compete head-to-head. We took a look at the amateur-owner hunter entries for Capital Challenge, Pennsylvania National, Washington International and the National Horse Show to see where top horses are competing this fall and what it takes to get there.

https://www.theplaidhorse.com/2025/10/22/amateur-owner-hunter-entries-at-indoors-a-comparison/

10/24/2025

Congratulations to Carson Cox of Montezuma, IN, the first-place award recipient of the 2025 Andrew Ryback Photography and The Plaid Horse Higher Learning Scholarship. His application, which required a three-part essay, two letters of recommendation, a high-school or college transcript, and a letter of acceptance from a college or university, impressed the judges and secured him a $2,500 scholarship prize to put towards his academic endeavors at Rose-Hulman Institute of Technology.

The application pool for this cycle of the scholarship was huge with over 150 entries, and though we could only select three official award winners, we truly enjoyed reading through every single application and appreciate all the applicants who participated this year.

The goal of this scholarship is to recognize, award, and support members of the sport who may choose to become future equine professionals and who are currently pursuing or about to enter higher education.

In addition to the first-place award winner, two other scholarships were given to the runner-up applicants. Second place was awarded a $1,500 prize, and third place won $1,000.

Read more at: https://www.theplaidhorse.com/2025/10/21/the-2025-andrew-ryback-photography-and-the-plaid-horse-higher-learning-scholarship-winner-carson-cox/

10/24/2025

"I don’t think I’m paralyzed, but something’s not right, and a voice in my head says, “Be still.” So I am.

Three seconds ago, I was riding Buddy, a four-year-old horse just getting started under saddle when he spooked at a bird and jumped sideways, bucking wildly. Sailing through the air, I tucked into a ball, hoping to avoid brain injury or a telescoping compound fracture of the arm or leg. I slammed into the frozen ground, landing on my right butt cheek. Cowboy Tim, (he of the dually pickup with the Are you going to cowboy up, or just lay there and bleed? bumper sticker) is debating with two of the other riders about whether or not to call 911.

I ask them to call my husband, Lorin, instead, and please get a blanket, because I think I’m going into shock. Laura, a horse trainer, kneels on the ground, placing my feet in her lap, tethering me here with her soft, steady voice as my teeth clatter and I shake uncontrollably.

It seems like a long time later that Lorin is striding towards me, calmly asking where I hurt, and if I can walk.

“I don’t know,” I reply.

“All right, let’s get her up,” he says, grinning. He’s been in charge from the second he arrived, and I can see why the men he went to war with trusted him.

Lorin takes one arm and Tim the other and they pull me up, but my right side fails me, and they catch me before I fall. The pain is distant and vague, and once I’m loaded into the reclined front passenger seat of Lorin’s SUV, I tell him we should just go home. I’m worried about the cost of the emergency room, but that’s where he goes.

He half-carries me inside, and by the time I’m wheeled into a room, the natural anesthetic of shock has worn off. When they move me onto the bed, I scream. I’m crying, muttering The Lord’s Prayer, and swearing at the two nurses wrestling off my jeans.

My underwear is next, unless, one asks, “You just want us to cut it?”

“Yes. Jesus. Cut.”

I return my head to the pillow as the morphine drip drops the pain level to a ten on a scale of one to ten. I’ve had broken bones before, various surgeries, and organs removed, but I’ve never hurt like this.

My husband hovers while we wait for the x-rays. The doctor arrives with the diagnosis of multiple pelvic breaks. Since there’s no displacement of the bones, there’s no surgery, and a cast or splint isn’t possible. After two days in the hospital, I’m discharged with Dilaudid, a walker, and instructions not to fall, which could dislocate the bones and cause major internal damage. Three hours after I get home, I black out while my husband is helping me use the walker to get to the bathroom. He catches me on the way down, and drags me back to bed, where I stay for the next month.

I read trashy celebrity magazines and murder mysteries, and doze periodically, soaking the sheets with the runoff of the metabolic acidosis that is equal parts pain and healing. Weeks later, when I’m finally able to sit in a chair long enough for my husband to flip the mattress, he finds sweat stains on the box spring.

Now that I am disabled, I envy people who are not. I covet movement, am starved for the simple physicality of being able to walk. Strapped into a wheelchair in the back of the van, stopped at the light, I glare at the fully-abled as they stride across the street. I wonder how I ever took that for granted, and when—or if—I’ll be able to do it myself.

The doctor says I will, but he won’t give me a timeline. I try to wheedle it out of him at each x-ray, but he just keeps telling me that “everyone’s different.”

The other thing he says is “Well, you’re not sixteen. If you were sixteen, it’d be easier.” (Yes, Doctor, I’m sure it would. Thank you for pointing that out.) I got more information about what to expect when I had a root canal.

When I finally search the Internet to find out what the physicians haven’t told me, I learn that pelvic fractures are relatively rare, usually resulting from a car crash or some other high-energy collision. In most cases, there are multisystem injuries to the spine, head, other bones, internal organs, veins and arteries. Massive internal hemorrhaging causes over one-third of fatalities from pelvic ring fractures, one of the few life-threatening injuries that are invisible.

I start sobbing, which brings my husband rushing to my bedside.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I could have died that day, did you know that? And it says that I might never walk the same way again.”

“I know, the ER docs told me, but that’s not going to be you.”

He reminds me of the soldier he served with in Iraq who got hit by an IED and was sent home with a broken pelvis and other injuries. Seven months later, he returned to Iraq. Stunned to see him, Lorin asked him what he was doing there. The soldier replied that he wasn’t going to let the Iraqis beat him.

“Okay?” Lorin says, “You can beat this, too.”

I want to believe him, but after eight weeks, and a handful of physical therapy sessions, I can barely stand on my own two feet, which have shed shims of callous. I want my old body back. I ache for the exquisite simplicity of motion that I assumed would always be there, the days when stairs weren’t out of reach."

📎 Continue reading Stacy Bannerman's article at https://www.theplaidhorse.com/2022/12/06/back-in-the-saddle-the-things-i-took-for-granted/
📸 courtesy of Stacy Bannerman

10/23/2025

Liz Haney ’92 has joined the Texas A&M College of Agriculture and Life Sciences Department of Animal Science as the new equine professor of practice, marking a full-circle moment in her career.

“My goal is for students to take part in the full process from training to marketing,” she said. “Not only that, but to foster a passion for the process itself. That experience helps them understand the value of their work. It’s the day-to-day work one must value, not just the dream of winning in the show pen.”

Edited Press Release, By Kaydee Free Liz Haney ’92 has joined the Texas A&M College of Agriculture and Life Sciences Department of Animal Science as the new equine professor of practice, marking a full-circle moment in her career. Haney brings more than 30 years of experience training reining and ...

10/23/2025

🎧 Piper speaks with Michael Tokaruk who recently judged the 2025 Dover Saddlery/USEF Hunter Seat Medal Finals. Brought to you by Taylor, Harris Insurance Services.



🔗 https://www.theplaidhorse.com/2025/10/17/plaidcast-455-2025-dover-saddlery-usef-hunter-seat-medal-finals-recap-with-michael-tokaruk-by-taylor-harris-insurance-services/

10/23/2025

When Tish Quirk first got to know about the stallion that would change her life, it wasn’t in person. It was over a series of long-distance phone calls from Holland, made by her husband during a horse-buying trip in the early 1980s. “You won’t believe what I just bought you,” he told her. “He’s the best mover you’ve ever seen. He jumps the very best. You will never get beat.”

That horse was Best of Luck, registered in Europe as Octrooi, a Dutch Warmblood stallion sired by the legendary Lucky Boy, a Thoroughbred who revolutionized Dutch sport horse breeding. In Europe, Octrooi was already quite famous, when Tish was introduced as owning him, people would exclaim with great admiration, “Octrooi himself?” Best of Luck’s siblings included Melanie Smith’s Calypso, as well as Willi Melliger’s Van Gogh, and The Freak with Hugo Simon and later Dirk Hafemeister, and Anne Kursinski’s Medrano, and all three of them were in Los Angeles for the 1984 Olympic Games.

Originally named Octrooi, Best of Luck had already sired over 100 foals in Europe and was competing in Grand Prix classes with an amateur rider. But Tish saw something even more valuable in him: a once-in-a-lifetime combination of elegance, athleticism, correct conformation, and temperament.

From the moment he stepped off the van in California, she was in love. “He was everything. The best conformation, the best temperament, the best everything,” she recalled. “He was just that special.”

Though he was capable of competing at the highest levels of show jumping, Tish chose to campaign him in the hunter ring, introducing the warmblood type to a discipline still dominated by Thoroughbreds. To avoid any preconceived bias from judges, she gave him a new name: Best of Luck. It was a nod to his famous sire and a subtle challenge to tradition.

What followed was a short but significant show career, including several championships in the Amateur Owner division with Quirk and the Open Hunter division with trainer Hap Hansen. Best of Luck quickly earned fans for his floating movement, scopey jump, and elegant presence. Behind the scenes, though, a new path was forming.

Best of Luck wasn’t just a show horse, he was a prepotent sire who stamped his foals with his unmistakable qualities. Even early on, his offspring stood out for their correctness, power, and rideability. Tish began breeding him to outside mares, but it wasn’t long before one particular foal convinced her to start building a broodmare band of her own. The c**t wasn’t for sale, but the mare was. Tish bought her on the spot, and for the first time, Best of Luck had a mare selected specifically for him.

📎 Continue reading this article at https://www.theplaidhorse.com/2025/10/23/bringing-luck-to-american-breeding/ 📸 Best of Luck and Hap Hansen

10/23/2025

Ask Dr. Holly Helbig what she worries most about for the future of the sport, and her answer isn’t about judging systems, prize money, or even veterinary shortages. It’s about kids.

“We’ve done this to them,” she said during a recent Plaidcast In Person event. “We’ve tacked up for them, been their grooms, enabled them. They aren’t getting the hours it takes to build intuition around horses.”

That loss of hands-on time—the small, daily habits that teach empathy and awareness—has become one of Helbig’s biggest concerns. And as both a veterinarian and professional trainer, she’s seen how taking those opportunities away doesn’t just change young riders; it changes the horses too.

Helbig describes herself as a “horse-crazy girl, not from a horse family.” She didn’t grow up surrounded by resources, but she found a way to make it work. “My parents went through bankruptcy,” she said. “Being a kid, not coming from a ton of money, I had to be scrappy.”

That scrappiness, she believes, is part of what shaped her success. “I didn’t have the money to pay a braider or a bunch of grooms,” she said. “You just jump in and do what you have to do. At the end of the day, I wouldn’t trade it. My relationship with that horse was stronger because of all the time I spent with him.”

Today, she worries that many young riders aren’t getting those same opportunities. “I think we’ve created a generation that can ride beautifully,” she said, “but hasn’t had the chance to really know horses.”

In her own training program, Helbig made sure her students stayed involved in every aspect of horse care. “My kids tacked for themselves at the horse show,” she said. “We had grooms, but they tacked for themselves.”

When something medical came up, she used it as a teaching moment. “Whenever anything happened in the barn, I’d scoop all the kids up and say, ‘Come look at this. What is it? Look at this ultrasound. Let’s look at this x-ray together.’”

Those experiences, she said, taught her students to see horses as living, breathing partners—not just show animals. “They learned to pay attention, to notice things, and to ask questions. That’s what builds confidence.”

📎 Continue reading this article at https://www.theplaidhorse.com/2025/10/22/let-the-kids-tack-up-why-the-next-generation-needs-more-time-in-the-barn/
📸 Lauren Mauldin / The Plaid Horse

10/23/2025

"Regardless of whether you are preparing for your upcoming season, have just completed one, or don’t follow a competition schedule, it is always beneficial to prioritize your progress and performance in the saddle. This is helpful and gets your body ready for saddle time and will lower your risk for injury.

Today I’ll share five exercises to get you on the right ‘lead’ to better balance, core strength and position in the saddle. Do these exercises two to three times per week for two weeks and share your progress.

These basic exercises will energize your body, and help to strengthen your seat, particularly if you typically struggle with where to start in your workouts. “All you’ll need is a pair of dumbbells/weights and a yoga mat. You can do this workout at the barn or the comfort of your home.”

1. Dumbbell Goblet Squat
(12-15 repetitions – 3 sets)

The Dumbbell Goblet Squat primarily focuses on strengthening the leg muscles, particularly the ‘quads’ and glutes. Strong, powerful legs are essential for maintaining balance and stability in the saddle. This exercise helps improve leg strength, stability, and endurance, enabling riders to maintain a secure position and communicate effectively with their horses.

Perform the Dumbbell Goblet Squat by standing with feet shoulder-width apart, holding a dumbbell close to your chest. Engage your core, initiate a squat by bending your knees and pushing your hips back. Lower your body while keeping a straight back and chest up. Pause at the lowest point, then push through your heels to stand up. Repeat for the desired reps, focusing on controlled movements for strong leg and core engagement.

Notes:
- Choose an appropriate dumbbell weight that challenges you but allows you to maintain proper form.
- Keep your chest up, back straight, and gaze forward during the exercise.
- Focus on your breathing, inhaling as you descend and exhaling as you ascend.
- Maintain control throughout the squat to prevent injury and maximize its benefits.

Incorporating Dumbbell Goblet Squats into your training routine can help equestrians develop powerful leg muscles, enhancing their ability to maintain balance and control while riding. Strong legs contribute to a more confident and effective riding position.

📎 View more exercises at https://www.theplaidhorse.com/2023/09/26/how-to-strengthen-your-seat-a-beginner-guide-to-equestrian-fitness/
📸 courtesy of Jamie Isaac

10/22/2025

Laila Theurer of Darnestown, MD, and Northern Star, owned by Theurer’s trainer, Courtney Morton of C Stars LLC in Poolesville, MD, won the Maryland Horse Shows Association (MHSA) Gittings Horsemanship Finals, which was the featured event on Saturday at the WIHS Regional Horse Show.

Theurer and “Camille” triumphed through the initial jumping round, the top 10 flat phase, and a test of the top four riders. Sitting in second place coming into the test, Theurer rode through the test course that included counter-cantering a jump, a simple change of lead, adding a stride in a line, and hand galloping the final jump.

Edited Press Release Upperville, VA – Grand champions and class winners were named during the 2025 WIHS Regional Horse Show & USHJA Zone 3 Championship at the Salem Farm Showgrounds in Upperville, VA, on October 16-19. The annual event showcased local and regional riders and is the precursor to th...

10/22/2025

"I'm probably never competing at indoors, and that's okay.

Like many elder millennials, I was raised to believe that the world was my oyster if I worked hard for the things I wanted. Though I’ve certainly had my share of burnout and a good ol’ fashioned mental breakdown now and then, that philosophy has gotten me a lot in life. It’s allowed me to grow from the 4H kid who did backyard schooling shows to pinning in AA shows in the Adult Amateur Hunters—something I’ve always wanted, but wasn’t sure would ever happen.

I will never discredit hard work when it comes to achievement. You simply can’t get anywhere without effort, but 30 years chasing dreams in this industry has taught me something else as well—hard work is only one element of the puzzle. Over time, I started to wonder what “success” in horses really meant for me.

When livestreaming horse shows became a thing, I loved tuning into the indoors coverage. Watching classes like the Ariat National Adult Medal Finals, I thought, “Maybe one day I could do that?” At the time, I was barely showing 2’6” with my OTTB. Getting magical things like lead changes or jumping 3’ at a horse show felt possible, but hard. But hey, dream big right?

Flash forward over a decade later, and I find myself at the Pennsylvania National Horse Show watching and working with The Plaid Horse. Standing by the hunter ring, I watch my peers go in for the classic. This is just the sort of big, impossible goal I always dreamed about. Something that I didn’t know if I had the capability to do.

I looked at the course. The jumps were beautiful, but they were simply hunter jumps—adorned beautifully with flowers and ferns, but there wasn’t anything magical about them. The course was the kind and familiar outside inside, outside inside we love to see in the AAs, complete with a two-stride. I watched flawless rounds. I watched rounds that had a whoopsie daisy moment. And in between, I realized something—my horse and I are very capable of doing this course. No, we wouldn’t win, but we wouldn’t look out of place either. Would I stand a very high probability of leaning for my change or doing a nervous jump up my horse’s neck? Yes, but I also stand an equal chance of getting decent distances and making it around fairly cleanly.

I could execute the course, but that doesn’t mean I ever will.

As a 40-year-old graduate student heading towards a career that I chose for happiness instead of wealth, I’m still figuring out what that looks like for me. I think it includes horse shows, and I think it includes the hunters. But walking shoulder to shoulder with the best in the industry, I realized that the elite is a level I don’t need to reach. what you think you should want.

For a long time, the image of my equestrian Quality World was being “part of their world.” I felt like an outsider, and I wanted to be in the “in” crowd. I wanted to keep raising the bar, keep going to fancier shows, and do everything I could to experience the best this sport has to offer.

I’ve been so fortunate to experience a lot and have many dreams come true. But the older I get, the more I realize that my equestrian Quality World cannot and will not look the same as riders in the upper tiers of our sport. I’m not exceptionally talented. I don’t have the ability, or truthfully the desire, to devote as much work as it would take to get my skills to a level that would lead to more opportunity and being competitive in the big leagues. And I don’t ever see myself having the financial means to pay my way in, either in miles, training, or horse.

This gives me two options. I can cry and say, “It’s so unfair! This sport is only for the rich!” or I can adjust the ideal view of my Quality World.

As a 40-year-old graduate student heading towards a career that I choose for happiness instead of wealth, I’m still figuring out what that looks like for me. I think it includes horse shows, and I think it includes the hunters. But walking shoulder to shoulder with the best in the industry, I realized that the elite is a level I don’t need to reach.

At the end of the day, nobody was having more fun at Harrisburg than I do at the A shows I attend in Katy, Texas, or even schooling shows closer to home. People celebrated their wins and slogged through disappointment—same as any other horse show. The elite can duke it out for the best in the country, and I can save my pennies and work hard enough to find eight jumps and get my lead changes on a smaller stage. Both co-exist. One isn’t better than the other.

Does our sport need to be more accessible? Yes. Do I think it’s crazy that I was told the average price of a horse in the AA hunter ring at Harrisburg is roughly $500,000? Yes. There are a lot of things we could improve about this industry.

But my place—really, my happiness—in this sport is in my control. I’ve never chatted with a rider or a professional at any of these exclusive shows and had them sneer when I say I ride my beloved beluga whale (aka Oldenburg) when I can at the regional level. Most of the folks at the top, especially the trainers who have worked decades to get there and sacrificed everything they could, remember what it’s like on different rungs on the ladder.

I truly believe most of us just love this crazy sport and these complicated animals. Participating, at any level, is the real prize.

📎 Save & share this article at https://www.theplaidhorse.com/2025/10/22/im-probably-never-competing-at-indoors-and-thats-okay/
📸 © Andrew Ryback Photography

10/22/2025

"The panic attack. Have you felt it before? Is it the long run oxer or Liverpool? The in and out that you’re just not convinced you can get in… and then out?

For me, tonight it was the crossrail. Sometimes, both as riders and as humans, we have to do scary things. And sometimes it’s also okay to walk away and not conquer.

My panic attacks don’t usually bring tears or make me lose my breath. They’re more like the “end my lesson early by getting off my horse and exiting stage left while my trainer is still telling me the directions of what to do next” type. I’ve been dressed to show, learned my courses, polished my boots and my horse’s feet, and walked down to the show ring only to dismount, walk back to my stall, pet my horse and put him away.

I know my triggers… usually. I’ve practiced overcoming them, taking a minute to center myself and try again. I’ve taken time away from jumping. I even took a few dressage lessons. I know that I’m a capable, intelligent horse person. Recently, we sold the most talented horse we’ve ever owned and bought a very seasoned unicorn.

But sometimes? Sometimes the crossrail still wins. I give my horse a pat, and do my best to leave with a positive attitude and a commitment to try again next time.

Adults can forget that our lives are complex. As a musician, I have a game face. I can perform under pressure. I know how to practice and also how to perform. My body and my mind have the ability to manage the endorphins and just do it. Sometimes I’ve gone into the show ring after only jumping 3 jumps in 10 months (post pregnancy) and been totally fine. But other times? I just can’t.

And you know what? We just have to accept that it’s okay.

While we’re not under the timeline of “aging out,” we are much more likely to be under other pressures. Work stress, parenting stress, relationship stress, financial stress—the list is never ending. The thoughts of “why do I spend every extra dollar I have, and every moment I can get away from work doing something that is utterly terrifying” are intoxicating. Those voices can be loud.

But at the end of the day? This sport keeps me humble. It keeps me grounded. The scars I’ve got run deep into my psyche. It’s unlikely that I’ll ever be the carefree equestrian galloping through the fields and fearlessly jumping all the jumps. But I’ve got a safe horse, a patient, intelligent, and empathetic trainer, and I will pledge to try again tomorrow. (Well, not tomorrow because we have a concert. But I will try again next time.)

In this game, there are always falls. Whether they’re literal or figurative, they will always happen. It’s so easy to lose track of how lucky we are to even be in the game. Able to ride, let alone able to compete.

A few summers ago, I was on vacation in Montana having a conversation with our fishing guide about horse shows. He told me about his experiences with endurance horses and how there are so many cogs in the wheel that have to be just right for the stars to align and be able to compete. Finances, a sound and fit horse, personal health and well being, the right combination of time to practice, and a job to support the hobby. It was very relatable. We’ve all seen the highs and the lows that horses have to offer.

I’ve spent a lot of time on the sidelines at horse shows. I love watching this sport more than most and my brain knows more about these animals than most other things (music aside). But in the last decade, I’ve had some crashes. There have been unsound horses, injuries, times I didn’t have a steady job to pay for it, and of course—the panic attacks. All of this adds up to the crippling anxiety that can show up out of nowhere, even though my horse continues to show me that she’s as trustworthy as they come.

So, what to do when the crossrail wins? Pat your horse. We’re so lucky to be in this game. It’s okay that your ride wasn’t Instagram worthy today. Try again tomorrow. You’re not alone. I’ll be cheering for you all the way."

📎 Save & Share Caelin Kordziel's article at https://www.theplaidhorse.com/2021/06/02/what-i-do-when-the-panic-attack-halts-my-ride/