The Plaid Horse

01/13/2026

Welcome to Trainer Tuesday! Each week we ask trainers a question and gather their answers for you. These trainers have a range of experience, backgrounds, and focus points of their programs, so the answers have as much variation as you would expect and also probably much more similarity.

This week’s question posed is: If a horse struggles to land the lead or typically only lands on one lead, what does that indicate, and can it be improved?

“If your horse struggles to land the lead or typically only lands on one lead, it is important to first rule out any medical issues. If your vet has addressed any physical concerns, then it comes to training.

On the flat it is important to establish a very straight horse at the walk, trot, and canter (off the rail of the ring, which acts as a crutch for straightness). Once a horse can travel straight, I add in counter-canter both ways. This will help their strength and balance.

Next I would start to work a horse over a small jump on a circle to help maintain the lead on landing. On a smaller circle, the rider should use an opening or leading rein and outside leg on take off/landing to encourage landing on the same lead. You can put a straightening pole on the landing to help show them the path of the circle if needed. Again, do this both ways, even though one way will probably be considerably easier than the other. As that gets comfortable, make the circle larger and the jump higher. When the horse reliably stays on the lead, you can approach the jump straight and land on the circle.

You can then move to a figure-eight over a jump to land both leads. The horse is now essentially doing a flying change while in the air over the jump. It’s important that the rider is using the new inside rein and outside leg to ask for the landing lead, and NOT a big twist of the body. Landing a lead is not more important than the quality of the jump, and you do not want to forsake the jump to get the lead.

Patience is key. If your horse gives you a couple of landings on their difficult lead, reward them by moving on to something else. Understand that’s it’s hard for them and don’t over drill it.” –Ann Dotoli

Read all their answers: https://www.theplaidhorse.com/2026/01/13/trainer-tuesday-if-a-horse-struggles-to-land-the-lead-or-typically-only-lands-on-one-lead-what-does-that-indicate-and-can-it-be-improved/

01/13/2026

"With so much chatter across the wider industry about the future of the horse business, kids not wanting to work, the shortage of barn rats, and people being priced out of horse shows, I’m starting to wonder if everyone is missing the heart of the issue. What if we just made it about the horse? And learning? What if the future of the horse business isn’t in the huge show barns, but with the little guys, the ones with a handful of horses and riders that work together in all seasons?

My very small community of riders understands my reasoning when I say that we are done riding for the winter, but the parents are eager for their kids to continue to learn about and love the horses and ponies in my barn. There is nothing “boutique” about my philosophy. The riders that are part of my world are here for it. In a tiny sample size of one small barn in rural Massachusetts, I’m pleasantly surprised to be living a sleeper success story when I thought I would be in hibernation this winter.

With no indoor, my afternoon lessons ended when the clocks changed this fall. Even our weekend riding season came to an end as winter hit hard and fast this year. We humans had barely finished our Thanksgiving turkey leftovers when the ground froze and snow came—months sooner than the past several years. My small outdoor ring, which is nestled in the midst of lovely mature trees and stays shady all summer, is now a sheet of ice, buried under inches of snow. As much as I was ready to say “see you next year” to my riders, give my horses round bales and allow everyone, including myself, to hibernate for the winter… the kids and parents had other ideas. The students keep coming, and, importantly, the parents keep paying.

I’ve been completely honest with everyone from day one that I have a small, seasonal program at my home. I’ve grown up with horses, lots and lots of horses. In the past, I headed up a year-round, busy lesson program with riders of all ages, levels, and goals. We had lessons through every season, and kept busy with shows and clinics in all weather to pay the bills. I do not have that capacity or drive at this stage in my life.

With a day job in a local school, I have some wiggle room on the horse-based income. I feel strongly that there is much more for people to learn about horses than just riding, so I’ve pivoted to offering “Stable Management” lessons on Saturday mornings at the same price as my riding lessons. Not one person has questioned the price. I may not be banking millions, but I’m covering some of the expenses for horses I own anyway, during the coldest and snowiest winter in recent memory.

So far this winter, I’ve had a small but dedicated group of girls show up, bundled in their snow pants and layers, ready to learn and help. The first Saturday we met was 11 degrees. Their parents say “thank you” when they drop them off and again when they pick them up. As I chatted with a few of my young, beginner riders about their goals for next year, I talked about how we could work towards horse shows, but what are they looking forward to doing next spring when it warms up again?

“I’d like to pick more feet,” said one girl, opening my eyes to lessons from her perspective. Wake up on Saturday mornings, rush to be on time for the lesson, quickly brush the pony, tack up to get as much riding time in, only to untack and head out to their next busy part of the day. Each weekend, I hear about sleepovers and birthday parties, visiting cousins, or running errands with their parents to be ready for the rest of the week. It all sounds exhausting. These girls want to just spend more time with their equine friends!

The girls are enthusiastic about filling haynets, learning how horses heat themselves from the inside out. We’ve practiced using a weight tape to make sure the horses are in good weight for a New England winter (spoiler alert—not many ribs to be found in my herd!). Instead of the horses waiting inside when they arrive, ready for tack and work, the kids are walking with me to the pasture to catch the horses: trudging through the snow, learning how to approach slowly, pat the horse on his shoulder, put the halter on from the nose up, even if I have to help them reach to put it over the ears, before they lead them back to the barn. The girls take their gloves off only long enough to practice tying a slipknot before brushing the chubby, hairy horses. And yes, we pick more feet, feet that are never dirty as they have been walking in snow for over a month, and likely will be walking through snow for several more months.

These kids and their families don’t know about rising entry fees, rule changes, No Stirrups November, or the difference between WEC and WEF. The parents know their kids are safe, learning about horses and responsibility, getting fresh air and exercise, and that they get back in the car with pink cheeks and updates about how they helped take care of their four-legged friends for another day.

The kids know that riding ba****ck helped them stay warm when cooler weather came in. They know that anything under 14.2 is a pony and anything over is a horse. They know which pony wears the pink halter, which donkey loves his ears rubbed, and they understand why I leased one of the ponies to a different program to keep him in work and lighten my feed bill this snowy winter.

They enjoy spending their mornings helping me with the farm chores. They have learned how to open and close a pocket knife used to cut haystring. They are cleaning stalls, scooping frozen p**p that lands with a thunk in the wheelbarrow, and adding bedding to the stalls. They are eager to spend some future Saturday mornings in my cellar cleaning tack (I promised music and snacks) even though it may be months before they get to actually use the tack again.

But when the weather cooperates, and we are all ready to go back into so-called “real work” the kids will be ready for it, having spent their winter working alongside me to care for the horses they love and are learning from every day."

📎 Save & share this article by Diane Raucher Miller at https://www.theplaidhorse.com/2026/01/12/id-like-to-pick-more-feet-getting-back-to-basics-during-winter-in-massachusetts/

01/13/2026

Busy schooling rings can be overwhelming for horses and riders. Trainers share practical, experience-backed advice for keeping horses safe, calm, and supported in crowded environments.

Welcome to Trainer Tuesday! Each week we ask trainers a question and gather their answers for you. These trainers have a range of experience, backgrounds, and focus points of their programs, so the answers have as much variation as you would expect and also probably much more similarity.  This week...

01/12/2026

"As an adult rider a few kids ago, I spent 10 years with a trainer who cared far more about how I rode between the jumps than over them. At the time, I didn’t realize how rare that was. How lucky I was.

This trainer believed deeply in fundamentals that now feel almost old fashioned. Flat work you could feel in your shaky legs the next day. Straightness you could sense with your eyes closed. The correct use of aids instead of shortcuts. It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t easy. But it worked. And only now, watching my own daughters come up in this sport, do I realize he was teaching me something the horse world may be losing.

What I remember most is his relentless focus on the basics. And it wasn’t just because I rode green horses. He believed every horse deserved an educated ride. Nothing was about checking boxes on the way to jumping bigger. Because of him, I grew to appreciate the flat work and looked forward to my flat-only lessons.

I also loved watching him ride, mesmerized by the way he made it all look so soft and effortless. Shoulder-in. Haunches-in. Lengthening. Shortening. Of course, it wasn’t effortless at all. It was thoughtful, demanding work. And he let me into that process. He talked while he rode, explaining what he was feeling and why he was asking for something. I could ask questions in real time. It was an education I didn’t fully appreciate until years later when he had transitioned to becoming a successful judge.

Eventually, I reached out to thank him. At the time, I didn’t understand how sacred that education was. And now, as a parent of young riders, that realization worries me. Because if that education mattered so much to me as an adult, it matters even more for children who are still learning who they are in the saddle. I want my girls to learn the kind of riding that lasts. The kind that builds a foundation instead of rushing past it."

Read the rest of Jamie Sindell's blog: https://www.theplaidhorse.com/2026/01/09/why-flatwork-still-matters-in-a-hurry-up-society/

📸Jamie Sindell

01/12/2026

Competitive drive is often treated as a virtue in riding. Ambition fuels early mornings, long hauls, and the discipline required to improve. But in Geoff Teall on Riding Hunters, Jumpers, and Equitation, Geoff Teall offers a necessary counterbalance: drive without restraint can quietly undermine both performance and horsemanship. When competition becomes the goal rather than the context, riders risk losing sight of the qualities that sustain success.

Teall’s warning is not against ambition itself. It is against imbalance—when the pursuit of results eclipses judgment, feel, and the welfare of the horse.

Every discipline carries its own temptations. Teall observes that equitation riders can become so focused on themselves that they turn mechanical, “rigidly riding in endless circles” and draining energy and joy from the work. Hunter riders, he notes, may become “myopically obsessed with appearance,” risking a mindset that values beauty over partnership. Jumper riders face a different pull, one toward speed, height, and prize money—sometimes pushing horses too far in order to capture results.

Each of these extremes grows from competitive drive untethered from purpose. The problem is not wanting to do well. It is narrowing success to a single outcome and allowing that outcome to override thoughtful decision-making.

One of the clearest signs that competitive drive has become a liability is when results begin to dictate choices. Riders may feel pressure to keep showing or pushing forward when questions arise about readiness, soundness, or preparedness. Qualifying requirements and competitive expectations can begin to outweigh careful assessment.

Teall emphasizes that showing places real demands on both horse and rider. It “takes time, energy, and money,” and it “puts a certain amount of stress on you and your horse.” When that cost is ignored in pursuit of a ribbon, ambition begins to erode good judgment.

In these moments, competition stops being a proving ground and becomes a source of pressure rather than perspective.

Perhaps Teall’s strongest caution appears in his discussion of hunters. When riders become overly focused on appearance, he warns, they risk seeing the horse as “nothing more than a beautiful pricey object rather than a living, contributing part of the team.” That shift is subtle, but consequential.

A horse reduced to a means of winning is easier to overuse, overschool, or overlook when something feels off. The partnership becomes secondary to presentation. Performance replaces communication.

📎 Continue reading this article at https://www.theplaidhorse.com/2026/01/12/when-competitive-drive-becomes-a-liability/
📸 © Heather N. Photography

01/12/2026

"I grew up in New York City–Brooklyn, to be exact. Although I was obsessed with horses from the time I could speak, finding a barn for beginners in the city was no easy task for my parents. At 9-years-old, my mom started me in lessons at a tiny barn in the middle of the city. When I say the place was bare bones, I mean it. The arena was basically a round pen. The stalls were straight load style, barely enough room to stand and certainly no room to lay down or turn around. Most of the horses boarded there were police horses or retired police horses.

At the time, I had no idea that this was a meager start in the riding world–to me, it was Heaven on Earth. My lessons were very basic. Steering. Stopping. Checking diagonals. And I learned the art of falling off pretty quickly. By the time I was 11, I’d already broken my collar bone from when a chunk of snow fell through the “arena” roof and spooked my lesson horse, Spice (a chestnut mare, no surprise there!).

The summer I turned 12, we moved north of the city to a suburb of New York and my mom found me a new barn for lessons right away. This experience was completely different. I was shell shocked at the huge rings, pastures, and fancy horses. My first lesson there, however, was a disaster. The instructor put me on a little grey pony and no matter what I did, I could NOT convince this pony to move. By the end of the lesson, we hadn’t even made it to the rail, and I was in tears.

I found out, years later, that the instructor later told my mom that riding possibly wasn’t for me, and that she should look into “Finding me something more cerebral.” As an adult, this story still makes me laugh, because I was an incredibly average student. I would have been equally inept had I been enrolled in chess club.

What this instructor was (not so tactfully) trying to say was that I was not a talented kid. And as hard as that is to hear as a parent or kid… she was not wrong. I wasn’t a talented kid. Admittedly, talent is something you’re born with, and I was not born with it. However, what I lacked in talent I made up for one thousand times over in determination. I rode all the time. I fell off… a lot. I sweated, I practiced, I read every book on horses and riding that I could find. Every moment I wasn’t in school, I was at the barn. I worked hard.

My parents eventually bought me an OTTB, and my lack of talent mixed with his determination to end my life was a horrid combination. I was on a first name basis with every paramedic in the area. They cut off more pairs of boots that I can count during ambulance rides, before those dang things came with zippers.

But, I never gave up. Nothing ever shook my blind determination to improve. The saying “hard work beats talent when talent doesn’t work hard” mirrors my exact journey in the horse world."

📎 Continue reading Ariel Univer's article at https://www.theplaidhorse.com/2025/01/13/carving-out-space-for-yourself-in-the-horse-world-and-beyond/
📸 courtesy of Ariel Univer

01/11/2026

That philosophy shows up most clearly in how he talks about decision-making. Kessler is direct about his approach: “I don’t make a lot of promises,” he said. “I listen.” The distinction matters. In a sport where people are accustomed to hearing what might change, Kessler prioritizes understanding what actually needs to change and then doing the work before speaking publicly about it.

When Kessler talks about trust, he doesn’t frame it as something assumed or guaranteed. He describes it as something earned deliberately, over decades. “It took me 50 years to earn a lot of trust,” he said. That awareness shapes how he leads. Public confidence, in his view, isn’t created by messaging. It’s created by follow-through.

That perspective explains why many changes at Wellington International are experienced before they’re announced. Kessler prefers that people feel the difference first, whether that’s smoother operations, improved flow, or less strain on the grounds, rather than hearing about intentions before outcomes are in place.

In an environment where riders, trainers, and staff rely on predictability, consistency becomes a form of leadership. People may not agree with every decision, but they know decisions won’t be reversed casually or explained away after the fact.

Brought to you by The Plaidcast In an industry shaped by constant movementm of horses, people, schedules, and expectations, leadership often gets measured by visibility. But in Plaidcast episode 464, Murray Kessler, CEO of Wellington International, offers a different definition. For him, leadership....

01/11/2026

"Much of my time at my last show on the A-circuit was spent in the feed stall crying. I was burnt out. I was exhausted from the high pressure—the constant tiny mistakes that would cause my whole round to be destroyed. I also felt bored. I had two fantastic horses, a great trainer, and parents that supported me in the sport. I was grateful for the position I was afforded, but I was no longer happy there.

I lost the desire to pursue the sport I had been participating in for the last ten years. In the coming months, I sold one of my horses. The other had to be retired, so I decided it was time to take a step away. I stuck with my college equestrian club team for two more years but eventually dropped that too before my senior year.

And the thing is, I didn’t miss it. I let my Butet and Fabbris collect dust in a back corner of my college house. I pursued other things I felt passionate about and spent time with friends—something I felt like I never got to do while I was showing on the all-time-consuming circuit. I was happy without riding.

Then, the second semester of my senior year rolled around, and I was freaking out. I wasn’t sure what kind of job I wanted. I didn’t feel ready to jump into a career I wasn’t positive I wanted. All my friends were making plans, getting corporate jobs, and traveling the world.

On a whim, I applied to be a wrangler at a dude ranch in Wyoming. I got the job in January and anxiously accepted it a few days later, set to start at the beginning of June. At the end of the school year, I packed away my breeches and show coat that had been left untouched in my closet; I went to the local Boot Barn and bought cowboy boots, Wrangler jeans, and button-downs.

I showed up to the ranch, having ridden three times in the span of the last two years. Within hours of my arrival, I was given a saddle, and a string of four horses and taught how to put on western tack. The next morning, I went on my first wrangle (read A Day in the Life of a Dude Ranch Wrangler to learn what this is) and I was scared. We immediately went full tilt towards the pasture. I stayed in the back of the group so no one could see me clutching onto the saddle horn.

The first few weeks were a difficult learning curve. Finding my seat in a western saddle was harder than I thought. As much as I hate to admit it, I was terrified galloping through the pastures and being responsible for taking people who had no idea how to ride out on trails. I thought the riding burnout might come back, but it never did.

One day something clicked. I was reminded of why I spent so many years riding. It was all for the love of the horse and the freedom you can feel when you just let go and ride. I was able to find that with a change of pace in a more low-key environment. The stakes were low, and I was able to learn new things, while I felt I was plateauing in the English discipline. It was exciting to be able to see real progress. I learned to rope, how to guide a horse through side-passing as I opened a gate, and more. For the first time in a long time, I felt content while riding. I even craved it on my off days.

On my last day at the ranch, the other two remaining wranglers and I went on one last ride on our favorite horses in our favorite pastures. It was an overcast mid-September day. We reminisced on our favorite memories from the summer while we walked and ran full speed through the wide-open spaces.

In our last gallop, a light rain started to fall and the overwhelming joy this summer had provided me made itself present. I rode through fields of sage bush and western plains terrain, surrounded by rocky mountain landscapes that housed vast canyons and flowing rivers. I had gotten the ability to do this all summer and show others the beauty of the west and the beauty of riding a horse. I had guided people through the experience of galloping a horse through this terrain, watching a smile light up even the faces of serious middle-aged corporate men.

I found happiness in the saddle again—just a different one. I felt rewarded for giving other people that experience. I had never lost the passion; I just needed a change of pace. And I found it in the western plains on quarter horses."

📎 Save & share this article by Vyla Carter at https://www.theplaidhorse.com/2022/10/19/a-circuit-to-dude-ranch-how-i-found-my-passion-for-riding-again/
📸 Courtesy of Vyla Carter

01/10/2026

In a sport that rewards ambition, speed, and visible progress, “going slow” can feel counterintuitive. But for Jimmy and Danielle Torano, patience isn’t hesitation. It’s a strategy.

Across decades at the top of the sport, the Toranos have learned that whether you’re developing a young horse or a promising rider, there is one mistake you almost never make: taking your time. “You will never make a mistake going too slow,” Jimmy said. “You’ll never make a mistake going too slow with a rider. And you’ll never make a mistake going too slow with a horse.”

When new horses enter the Toranos’ program, they don’t debut at the highest level they’re capable of jumping. Even when a horse is age-appropriate for young horse classes or technically ready for a bigger division, they start lower.

“We probably start them a division or two below where they should be,” Jimmy explained. That decision is about building confidence, both for the horse and the rider. Letting a horse settle, understand their job, and feel successful creates a foundation that holds when the questions get harder.

Especially when young riders are developing horses, the Toranos see patience as protection. “We want to make sure everything goes right—or as right as it can go,” Jimmy said.

One audience member at the live podcast summed it up simply: success breeds success. Jimmy agreed.

“The minute you overface a horse is when you get into trouble,” he said.

The same principle applies to riders. Moving someone forward before they’re truly ready—physically or mentally—can undermine confidence far faster than it builds experience. Going slower allows skills, confidence, and decision-making to develop together.

For the Toranos, patience is intentional. It’s paying attention to how a horse responds. It’s listening to what a rider needs on a given day. And it’s resisting the urge to rush simply because the calendar suggests it’s time.

📎 Continue reading this article at https://www.theplaidhorse.com/2026/01/10/you-will-never-make-a-mistake-going-too-slow-a-training-philosophy-for-horses-and-riders/
📸 © The Plaid Horse

01/10/2026

It’s Friday, which means it’s time for another 🫏 Am I the Donkey? 🫏

This week, a rider thought she was splitting costs for a fun clinic weekend—until her barnmate bailed and still expected her to pay.

From: “Split Decision”

A few weeks ago, I signed up for a Friday clinic with a well-known jumper coach. Another rider from my barn, let’s call her Jess, was also going and asked if I wanted to split coaching and lodging since it was out of town. I said sure. We agreed to split the trainer's travel fee, hotel cost, and to trailer our horses together to keep it affordable.

Fast forward to the week of the clinic, and Jess backs out last minute. Not sick. Not injured. She just said it was “too much right now” and she didn’t feel ready. Fine, I get that things happen.

But then she told me I still needed to pay her part of the trainer's travel fee and the hotel room because she reserved it all and “plans changed.” I told her, no—I’m already paying for everything on my own now and it doesn’t make sense for me to cover someone who didn’t show up.

She says I’m being selfish and backing out of an agreement. I say she changed the terms by not following through.

👉 Am I the Donkey for refusing to pay for a shared plan that only one of us actually followed through with?

01/09/2026

Not every career-ending injury means the end of a horse’s purpose. Therapeutic riding and equine-assisted services programs are an often-overlooked option for senior or unsound horses. For many horses advertised as “free to a good home,” these programs can offer something even better—a safe landing, a lighter workload, and a job that truly matters.

By REESE GALLAGHER We’ve all seen the ads on Facebook for some horse that is “free to a good home.” In recent years, all eyes have been on ads like these due to the reality that there aren’t too many “good homes” left for these horses. These ads typically feature a senior horse that isn....

01/08/2026

"Preparation is about developing skills, habits, and awareness that allow riders to respond well in real time. Riders prepare by training their horses, practicing transitions, walking courses, and building routines that help them stay organized.

But preparation does not promise predictability.

Horses feel different from day to day. Warm-ups change. Courses don’t always ride the way they walk. Preparation equips riders with tools, but not guarantees. The trouble starts when riders expect preparation to control outcomes. When something shifts, even slightly, it can feel as though the entire ride is slipping away."

Brought to you by The Plaidcast Riders often talk about preparation and control as if they’re the same thing. If the warm-up goes smoothly, the plan feels solid, and emotions are steady, it’s easy to assume everything is under control. That control means you’re ready. But in her conversation o...