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Do You Have to Compete?

I saw a fantastic post by a colleague on the topic of competing or not competing, and I thought I’d add my own thoughts on the matter.

Since ancient times, it has been important for humans to show and prove that they are skilled and valuable. It’s no different in the animal world, where animals compete for the best mate to ensure their lineage continues and that their offspring are strong and capable of survival. This instinct goes deep into our genes and can be hard to ignore. Competing can also be very fun; it gives a purpose to training, a goal, and a way to measure how far you’ve come. However, sometimes competition can take over, and then the question arises: when is enough, enough?

Parents often try to raise their children with competition in their blood, aiming to be the best, to strive, to become someone. Unfortunately, I’ve been to pony competitions, for example, where I’ve had to leave because it was awful to watch. The child was expected to win at all costs, and it was 190 km/h around the course with the whip to the pony’s rear. That’s when someone exploits another being to reach their goal in the wrong way.

I have a little funny story I’d like to share, even though it’s not about horses, but it’s very much about how people think about competition.

We were on a skiing holiday many years ago, and our children were about 9 and 12 years old at the time. They hadn’t skied much before, but we found a good instructor who was very pedagogical and reassuring. My youngest son was very cautious and took his time, but he learned to slowly ski down the slope and navigate between the markers. After a few days, there was going to be a competition for the children, but it was cleverly designed so that the goal was not to come in first, but to do two runs and have the times be as close to each other as possible. My youngest son was a bit hesitant and didn’t think he was good enough, but I convinced him that he should just have fun and take it easy.

I stood at the bottom of the slope, watching and taking pictures. Next to me were two couples, loudly commenting on all the children skiing down. Their children were evidently experienced skiers, almost racing down the slope, and there were no limits to how talented their kids were. Then my oldest son came down, and no compliments came from these people. Next came my youngest son, and they commented that he really shouldn’t be allowed to participate, he was so bad, and there were many rude remarks about how slowly he skied. My children almost didn’t want to do the second run because they felt embarrassed, but I encouraged them, reminding them that it was good practice, it was all about having fun, and they shouldn’t listen to those people (who I actually called idiots). That evening, there was an award ceremony! Guess who won? My youngest son, who had skied calmly and steadily, in the same rhythm. In second place came my oldest son! When we walked back from the stage, where they had received their prizes, I passed by the table where the “idiots” were sitting. I couldn’t help but loudly talk about how great my kids were, and for some reason, those wonderful parents didn’t look very happy.

It’s not always that justice prevails (though I think it did in my story), and unfortunately, I’ve seen and heard similar situations at competitions. Parents shouting and arguing with judges, children crying, etc. It’s hard to hold competitions without feeling that you’re better than someone else. It’s easy to try to push your horse a little extra in the wrong way just to get those last few points.

It becomes especially unfair in dressage, for example, when a horse’s gaits are also judged. I’ve seen at many competitions that those who don’t have warmbloods, and therefore don’t have their type of movement, are judged down. I’ve spoken to many skilled dressage riders who have considered buying Spanish horses, for example, as they are easier to ride and more suited for certain movements, but they don’t dare to because they know that the judges won’t treat them fairly. So it’s not just about how the rider rides, but also how the horse moves.

So, how should you approach it if you want to compete? Go without expectations. See it as a journey with your horse and think of the judging as a guide to where you and your horse want to go. Treat the other competitors kindly, cheer them on, and talk about the ride with them. Maybe you’ll get tips on how to reach the next level. Remember, the others are nervous too, and they might not always show their best side 🙂 Be a friend, not a competitor. Be happy for your horse and think about all the things that went well and be glad for that 🙂

The picture is of me and my stallion Mackay at a dressage competition in the 1980s.

Life in a Nutshell!

When I was a child, riding the working horses, I would just sit and enjoy being on the horse. The reins were long, and the horse could graze if it wanted to. I mostly rode bareback, leaning slightly back and relaxing as we trotted. I followed the horse’s movement, loose and free in my body.

As I grew older and found the joy in competing, I was taught to keep my heels down, toes in, eyes up, and elbows resting on my hips. I also learned that I needed to do half-halts, and the horse had to be on the bit. I was told to grip with my knees so I could hold on if I rode bareback.

With all these “rules,” riding became harder. I listened because I wanted to improve. My body was never really built for riding; I’m tall, knock-kneed, and not particularly flexible. But I wanted to learn.

Everyone had different tricks and methods to become good, and I constantly worked on improving, making some progress along the way. I practiced for so long that certain habits became second nature… using my seat, gripping with my knees, doing half-halts!

Then I got a new trainer who told me to relax my knees. And I swear, it took just as long to unlearn gripping with my knees as it had taken to learn it in the first place.

Later, I learned that it wasn’t necessary for the toes to point inward at all, and it was perfectly fine to sit naturally with them pointing slightly outward. Since I was competing at the time, and it was required to wear spurs in competition, I found this strange because I had always been taught to point my toes inward to avoid jabbing the horse with the spurs.

I also had to learn to ride with a double bridle, as you weren’t allowed to compete at the higher levels without one. I never quite made peace with it and eventually stopped competing. Instead, I bought a young horse because then I had a long time before I needed to use spurs or a double bridle!

I reversed my “progress.” I never became a dressage star because I began riding in other disciplines and even did some driving instead.

Now, I’ve come full circle… riding with just a halter, bareback, taking it easy, leaning slightly back when we trot, and following along.

It’s funny to think that it took me a whole lifetime to realize that what I did from the start was the best, the most fun, and the simplest—and that it even gives a better connection with the horse.

Of course, if I had only ever ridden in a halter and Crocs, I wouldn’t have experienced the hunts, competitions, being a cowgirl in Australia, the jousting, or the jumping. But it’s fun to reflect on.

The circle is complete 🙂

Karlshamn Festival with the Horses!

I have driven my horses to various events many times. Especially my stallion Mackay was used to all sorts of things. While I was living in Mörrum, I couldn’t afford a car for the first few years, so I drove or rode the horses everywhere I needed to go. Even back in the 80s, it wasn’t very common to use horses for transportation, so I got various assignments, such as for bachelorette parties, graduations, and weddings.

One day, I was asked if I would consider participating in the Karlshamn Festival. At that time, I also had Mackay’s son, Magill, so I drove them as a pair. I had restored the carriage myself, and the harnesses were ones I had bought at an auction at Huseby Manor, so there was a bit of history to them.

Driving at such an event required a lot of preparation, and I did what I could to drive the horses around the village and get them used to the environment. It wasn’t just the traffic; at the festival, there would also be an orchestra, spectators, and so on. We had prepared well, and I had helpers who would walk alongside the horses, so I was confident that we could handle it.

What we encountered, however, I couldn’t have imagined. It was far more complicated than I had anticipated.

We started from Karlshamn’s riding school, where we were escorted by the mounted police. It felt safe and reassuring to have them both in front of and behind my carriage. As we reached the outskirts of Karlshamn, we were met by orchestras, dancers, sailors, and all those who would be parading through the streets. The worst part was the long wait before everything got started, as there were so many participants ahead of us. There were also a few people riding with us who weren’t used to horses; they were hooting and hollering in the back, causing quite a commotion both in front and behind the carriage.

When we finally started moving, it was very stop-and-go. We would walk a few steps and then have to wait, and it wasn’t easy for the horses to walk on the cobblestones or up the hills, so we had our work cut out for us to keep them calm. The men leading them did an excellent job. At one point, it got too much for Mackay, and he reared up. The police stepped in, riding in front of him, giving him something else to focus on.

The worst part was that people standing on the streets thought it would be a good idea to push their children forward for a better view, and more than once, they were dangerously close to getting under the horses’ hooves. It was crowded, with over 300,000 people in town.

We and the horses survived, but I swore it would be the last time I participated in a festival with the horses. I can’t describe how relieved I was when we finally got them home safely to the stable.

I don’t remember the exact year, but I believe it was 1985.

Det handler om at have de rigtige forbindelser!

Har du nogensinde tænkt på, hvordan dit liv kunne have set ud, hvis du ikke havde mødt den ene eller den anden person? Livet er fyldt med øjeblikke, hvor man indser, at man lige har mødt den rigtige person på det helt rigtige tidspunkt.

Da jeg var færdig med skolen og gymnasiet, var det store spørgsmål, hvad jeg skulle blive. Hestene betød alt for mig, og jeg ville virkelig gerne finde noget, der gjorde, at jeg kunne være tæt på dem. Men jeg hørte altid, at man ikke kunne tjene penge på heste. Det var jo en sandhed med modifikation, for jeg vidste jo, at man kunne sælge foder eller leje staldpladser ud, men det krævede en startinvestering. Jeg var også rigtig god til at male, men jeg vidste, at det ikke var noget at satse på. At male en hest kunne måske give et par hundrede kroner.

Jeg gik på en ungdomsgård, hvor man kunne tage kurser, og jeg ville prøve det hele. Til sidst endte jeg på et læderkursus, og mens alle de andre lavede bælter og tasker til sig selv, kastede jeg mig over at lave en trense til min pony. Da jeg forlod skolen, tænkte jeg, at jeg kunne blive sadelmager.

Men hvordan skulle jeg dog bære mig ad, og hvor kunne jeg starte? Der var jo ikke mange sadelmagere. På det tidspunkt havde jeg min hest opstaldet hos en mand, der hed Ole, og af en eller anden grund kom vi til at tale om, at jeg rigtig gerne ville blive sadelmager. “Jamen,” sagde han, “jeg kender en, som måske kunne bruge en lærling.” Jeg kunne næsten ikke tro mine ører, men snart kørte vi sammen ind til hans ven.

Det var midt inde i København, og jeg tænkte, at det var et mærkeligt sted at være sadelmager – der var jo ikke mange heste sådan et sted. Han havde sin forretning i en kælderlejlighed, hvor han også boede. Han havde to vinduer ud mod gaden, hvor han havde hængt nogle trenser og andet arbejde, han havde lavet. Han hed Helmuth Rasmussen, men jeg skulle kalde ham Ras, som hans venner gjorde. Ellers var han kendt som Ponysadelmageren, da han syede mange seletøj til Welsh Mountain-ponyer og leverede blandt andet til en kendt herregård. Hans arbejde var fantastisk, og når han lavede de små seletøj, sørgede han for, at alt passede til størrelsen og brugte specialbeslag, så alt passede sammen. Det, han ikke kunne købe, lavede han selv. Han var fantastisk til sit håndværk. Når han havde fri, byggede han miniaturevogne, nøjagtige kopier af de rigtige. Han havde bygget en kopi af ølvognen fra Carlsberg og også en af de kongelige kareter. Derudover lavede han trenser til dem, der red til ringridning, med muslingeskaller på hele trensen og forstykket.

Jeg var fascineret og ville lære det hele. Til min glæde var han villig til at tage mig som elev, men jeg skulle være på prøve først, sagde han, for det var ikke alle, der var skabt til håndværket. Allerede efter anden dag syntes han, jeg skulle blive, for han kunne se, hvor interesseret jeg var, og jeg blev hurtigt meget dygtig til at sy.

Jeg blev sadelmager takket være Ole, og snart oplevede jeg igen, at skæbnen ville mig det godt.

En dag, mens jeg arbejdede hos Ras, fik han besøg af en gammel nabo, der hed Knud. Knud var venlig og snakkede meget. Han havde boet ved siden af Ras i flere år, og hans børn, Leon og Lone, havde ofte besøgt Ras og kigget på tingene i hans butik. Nu var Knud bare på besøg, for han var flyttet til Sverige og arbejdede på et sted, der hed High Chaparral, hvor han var bartender. Han fortalte om stedet, som var en westernby, og der var også mange heste. Knud syntes, jeg skulle komme derop og arbejde, for de havde brug for en sadelmager, sagde han, og viste mig nogle billeder.

Jeg er jo, som jeg er, og vil altid opleve nye ting, så vi aftalte, at jeg skulle tage derop og kigge, hvis ikke andet så bare for at se, hvad det var.

Jeg tog derop i efteråret sammen med en veninde, og jeg blev ikke skuffet. Der ville jeg virkelig gerne arbejde. Knud viste os rundt og havde endda arrangeret, at vi kunne få en ridetur, selvom det var uden for sæsonen.

Knud tog mig med ind på banken, hvor chefen sad, som var Kent Erlandsson (søn af Big Bengt Erlandsson), og Knud forklarede Kent, at jeg var sadelmager, og at de havde brug for sådan en på Chaparral. “Nå,” sagde Kent, “så må det vel blive sådan,” og vi aftalte, at jeg skulle komme til foråret og arbejde der.

Sådan kan det gå, når man har de rigtige forbindelser, og jeg har lært gennem livet, at det er noget af det vigtigste, man kan have!

It’s All About Having the Right Connections!

Have you ever wondered how your life might have turned out if you hadn’t met certain people along the way? Life is full of moments where you realize you’ve met just the right person at the right time.

When I finished school and high school, the big question was what I wanted to become. Horses were the only thing that mattered to me, and I really wanted to find something that would allow me to stay close to them. However, I constantly heard that you couldn’t make money with horses. That was partly true, though I knew you could sell feed or rent out stables, but that required an initial investment. I was also very good at painting, but I knew that wasn’t something to pursue. Painting a horse might get you a few hundred crowns at best.

I spent time at a youth center where you could take various courses, and I wanted to try everything. Eventually, I ended up in a leatherworking course, and while everyone else made belts and bags for themselves, I threw myself into making a bridle for my pony. That’s when I thought, after leaving school, that I could become a saddlemaker.

But how would I go about it, and where could I even start? There weren’t many saddlemakers around. At the time, I had my horse boarded at a man named Ole’s place, and for some reason, it came up in conversation that I really wanted to become a saddlemaker. “Well,” he said, “I know someone who might need an apprentice.” I could hardly believe my ears, but soon enough, we went to meet his friend.

It was right in the middle of Copenhagen, and I thought it was a strange place to be a saddlemaker—there weren’t many horses in a place like that. His shop was in a basement where he also lived. He had two windows facing the street, where he had hung up some bridles and other works he had made. His name was Helmuth Rasmussen, but I called him Ras, as his friends did. He was otherwise known as the Pony Saddler because he made a lot of harnesses for Welsh Mountain ponies and supplied a famous estate, among others. His work was amazing, and when he made small harnesses, he made sure everything was to scale and used special fittings to match everything perfectly. If he couldn’t buy something, he made it himself. He was incredible at his craft. When he wasn’t working, he built miniature carriages, exact replicas of the real ones. He had made a copy of the beer wagon used by Carlsberg and even one of the royal carriages. Additionally, he made bridles for those who participated in ring jousting, with shells covering the entire bridle and breastplate.

I was fascinated and eager to learn everything. To my delight, he was willing to take me on as a student, but I had to be on trial first, he said, because not everyone is cut out for the profession. After just the second day, he said I could stay because he saw how interested I was, and I quickly became very good at sewing.

I became a saddlemaker thanks to Ole, and soon, fate would favor me again.

One day, while working with Ras, he was visited by an old neighbor named Knut. Knut was friendly and talked a lot. He had lived next to Ras for several years, and his children, Leon and Lone, had spent a lot of time with Ras, chatting and watching him work. Now Knut was just visiting, as he had moved to Sweden and was working at a place called High Chaparral, where he was a bartender. He talked about the place, which was a western town, and mentioned that there were a lot of horses there. Knut thought I should come and work there because they needed a saddlemaker, he said, showing me some pictures.

I’m the type who loves experiencing new things, so we agreed that I would visit, if only to see what it was all about.

I visited in the fall with a friend, and I wasn’t disappointed. I really wanted to work there. Knut showed us around and had even arranged for us to have a horseback ride, even though it was off-season.

Knut then took me to the bank where the boss, Kent Erlandsson (son of Big Bengt Erlandsson), was sitting. Knut explained to Kent that I was a saddlemaker and that they needed one at Chaparral. “Alright,” said Kent, “then that’s settled,” and we agreed that I would start working there in the spring.

That’s how it goes when you have the right connections, and I’ve noticed throughout my life that this is one of the most important things you can have!

Are Horse Dealers and Breeders Horrible People?

I just read a post about a woman who was apparently called a horse dealer in a negative tone. She assured everyone that she took good care of the horses, they got everything they needed, and she shed a tear when the horses were sold.

I can relate!

I’ve been dealing in horses for over 20 years, and I’ve been breeding for almost 40 years. In fact, it’s gotten harder over the years when I had to part with a horse, so I’ve stopped.

So who is it that looks down on dealers and intermediaries? Is it jealousy because we make money off the horses (I should add that nowadays, you don’t get rich from horse trading)? Is it because they can’t afford to buy the horse they want, or what is it?

I can say that if everyone stopped breeding and dealing horses, then people wouldn’t be able to buy any horses at all.

When I was active, I saw myself as someone who helped people find the right horse, I helped riding schools find horses, and I assisted people who wanted advice on which horse to buy. I felt happy that I could make someone happy, and I always hoped the horse would find a good home. I continually receive updates about the horses that have been in my care, how they are doing, and many have come back to buy a new horse when they needed one.

Why do people become dealers?

They love horses, and it’s a way to avoid going to a job they hate. You gain a lot of experiences and continue to educate yourself throughout your life.

It’s not an easy profession, and you have to work very hard to make a living.

For my part, I wanted to keep them all, but that wasn’t possible. I had a few “own” horses, but those were the breeding horses.

The horse dealers of the past no longer exist, those who had a big wallet and sold bad horses to unsuspecting people. Today, there are so many requirements for sellers, vet inspections, and insurance.

We know it’s expensive to buy a horse, and the dealer hasn’t gotten the horse for free but has paid a sum for it. Then you need a stable and preferably an indoor arena so you can operate year-round. The horses don’t stop eating in winter. Farrier and vet care are needed before you can hand the horse over to its new owner. You never know how long you’ll have the horse before it finds a new home. However, there’s always haggling when buying from a dealer, because the horse is just too expensive (even if it’s cheaper than all the others). The worst thing for a dealer (or at least for me) was when the horse came back. I felt sorry for the horse, having to move back and forth, and it was always a loss for me. Even if you might have another horse to exchange, you were nervous that even that one might come back. It’s not always the dealer’s fault.

Breeders have also struggled over the years to get properly paid for their offspring, so they can at least cover the costs involved in breeding.

Think about that when you criticize a dealer! They generally do their best, and they can’t know all the horse’s past illnesses, nor can they help you find the breeder abroad if the horse has an unknown pedigree, etc.

Make sure you’re informed before you start looking for a horse! Consider what type of horse, size, gender, and training level before you start searching.

Do you want to know more about how to think when buying a horse? Then you can become a member of Happy Horse Hub, where there’s a completely free course on what to consider and look for.

Belly Landing on a Stone Wall

When I was on summer vacation in Blekinge, all sorts of things happened. I wasn’t very old when my parents bought the summer cottage, and I loved being there. I mostly kept myself occupied, but of course, I enjoyed having company. One day, an old man came cycling by and asked if his daughter could come play with me. It was the countryside, and she probably felt lonely during the summer break since there were no other children nearby. I was thrilled to have someone to play with, and the next day, he brought Eva-lill. She was a bit younger than me, small and skinny with big eyes, and looked a little scared. I was big and strong, so I thought it was fun to finally be the one who could take charge and be the “big sister” to someone. Eva-lill taught me to speak Swedish, and I taught her all sorts of mischief.

Eva-lill loved drawing and doing bead embroidery, while I thought it was cool to play Vikings, catch fish, and ride the workhorses. We complemented each other well and developed a fantastic friendship. Later, when we got a bit older, we bought 10 packs of Rocky Mountain cigarettes with menthol flavor and secretly smoked them when we went swimming. We hid the packs in the stone wall on the way there and hoped it wouldn’t rain too much on the matches. Naturally, I also wanted to teach Eva-lill to ride because, to me, that was the best thing in the world. She dared to sit on the horses a little while I held them, but she was mostly terrified.

One day, an old man passing by saw us and suggested that there was someone nearby who had ponies, which he thought would be a better size for us than the big workhorses. I never missed a chance to ride, so we cycled a few kilometers to Bertil Månsson, who bred Gotland ponies. He was very kind, and we were allowed to try riding the older mare, Julita, who was the mother of the others. She had been ridden before and was very gentle. We continued to visit there often, although it was quite a long bike ride. I often think about how incredibly fit we must have been, cycling, swimming, and walking so much back then. Bertil Månsson’s farm was at the bottom of an incredibly long downhill slope, which was nice on the way there, but we had to climb that long hill on the way back when we were tired from riding.

After a while, Bertil noticed that I could ride well and had a good way with horses, so he let me train the young horses. He was happy too because it made them easier to sell. I even trained his stallion, Julius, and had a lot of fun with him. Eva-lill would come along and watch; she rarely rode but didn’t mind coming along. There weren’t many places to ride, so we had to do it in the pasture. It sloped, so there was a hill down when you rode out and a hill up when you rode back. I had trained Julius so that we could walk and trot a bit downhill, and then we would gallop uphill on the way back. Julius enjoyed it and liked to speed up the hill.

One day, when Eva-lill was with us, she watched this and thought it looked like a lot of fun, so she wanted to try it too! I was aware that her riding skills weren’t very advanced, so I was initially happy when she said she wanted to try. Finally, something had sparked her interest in the horses! But then I tried to talk her out of it, realizing it might not be the best idea. However, she insisted and really wanted to give it a go! She walked Julius down the hill while I gave her tips on what to do, and then she turned him around at the bottom. Julius did what he usually did and started galloping full speed up the hill. It looked really good until they reached the end of the pasture, where there was a stone wall. Julius turned left, and Eva-lill continued straight ahead, landing on her belly across the stone wall.

I was terrified—I was sure she had seriously hurt herself—but she got up without a scratch. I was afraid something had happened to her and also worried that if anyone found out, I might not be allowed to ride there again. I was actually proud of her for handling it so well, and she thought it had been exciting until the unfortunate ending. She never rode Julius again. However, I later got permission to borrow Julius for a while, but that’s another story!

My Mission in Life!

When you ask people what their mission in life is, very few can answer, but I’ve given it a lot of thought. What is it that has made my whole life revolve around horses—trying to understand them, breeding, trading, riding, and so on? You spend enormous amounts of time on horses. Almost five years ago, something happened in my life that made me reflect deeply on why we live and what we want to achieve. I’ve never been very technical and wasn’t interested in computers or phones, except for making calls, but suddenly, I got the idea that I wanted to pass on all my knowledge to those who wanted it. I’ve experienced so much with horses that I could write many books (I’ve tried, but it didn’t quite work out), so I came up with the idea of delivering my knowledge online. It was a big change for me, with so much to learn about platforms, Zoom, websites, Facebook, and much more. I was terrified the first few times I went live on Facebook, but my mission pushed me out of my comfort zone and made me push myself to the limit. Few people know how much work goes into creating a digital course and a website. The ads say you can build a website in a day with AI, but that’s not true, as everyone who has a website knows.

Starting with marketing, I soon realized it was not like selling a horse. In that world, people contacted you, and you could negotiate. Online, you have to put yourself out there and present what you have in a proper and accurate way.

I started creating podcasts, initially interviewing my friends, who also have a passionate relationship with horses. By sharing their stories and insights, I quickly noticed the power of podcasts in spreading knowledge and inspiration. It became a way to connect with people on a deeper level, creating a sense of community and understanding for the world of horses, which can be difficult to convey through text or video alone.

Over time, the podcasts have grown to be more than just a forum for conversation; they’ve become a tool for education and engagement. I’ve interviewed many knowledgeable and experienced people in the equestrian world, all of whom contribute their perspectives and experiences. This has become a platform where we can work together to improve horse welfare—something that is very close to my heart.

My membership sites, Horse and Health in Swedish and Happy Horse Hub in English, are the next step on this journey. Here, I’ve gathered all my knowledge and experience to provide members with access to in-depth courses, tools, and resources that can help them create a stronger and more harmonious relationship with their horses. I believe that by educating and supporting horse owners, we can collectively contribute to better horse welfare.

It’s not just a place for learning but also a community where you can share your successes and challenges, receive support, and get inspiration from others with the same goals. This is my way of giving back to the horses—to ensure they are treated with the respect and care they deserve.

When I look back on my journey, from being terrified of going live on Facebook to now running a growing digital platform and podcast, I realize that my mission has been the driving force behind it all. It’s not just about sharing my knowledge, but about making a real difference in the lives of horses around the world. That’s why I continue to learn, grow, and strive to reach more people, for the sake of the horses.

So, if you are as passionate as I am about improving horse welfare and creating strong, healthy relationships with your horses, I invite you to become part of this community. Through my podcasts and membership sites, I hope to inspire and guide you on your own journey with horses, and together, we can make the world a little better for these amazing animals.

Hvordan skal en rideskolehest være?

For nogle år siden, da jeg var hestehandler, havde jeg mange sjove oplevelser. Både gode og dårlige, men lige denne gang fik vi alle et godt grin. Jeg handlede mest heste til rideskoler i Ungarn, som jeg derefter tog hjem til Sverige. Der var stor mangel på rideskoleheste, hvilket der nok stadig er. Rideskoler vil have søde veltrænede heste, og det er svært at finde til den rette pris i Sverige.

Jeg kiggede på annoncer hjemmefra Sverige, før jeg rejste, men oplevede hurtigt, at det ikke altid var den hest, de havde annonceret. Der er steder i Ungarn, hvor der bor mange sigøjnere, og de har mange heste. Man skal dog være ret dygtig til at se, hvilken slags heste det er, for man kan nemt blive snydt. Jeg har altid haft en tolk med mig for at føle mig sikker i disse områder. Man kan ikke købe en hest med kort, så man skal have en hel del kontanter med, hvis man skal kunne handle med disse mennesker.

Lige den dag, jeg vil fortælle om, havde jeg 2 venner med fra Sverige. Det var altid sjovt at have venner med, for det var en lang vej at køre fra Sverige til Ungarn og tilbage igen. Godt at have selskab og nogen at tale med.

Vi havde fundet nogle telefonnumre, som min tolk, Tamas, talte med for at finde vej. Det var en ret lang vej på dårlige veje, så tiden gik, og vi skulle skynde os, hvis vi skulle nå at se flere heste. Endelig kom vi frem, og som sædvanlig havde jeg traileren med, for hvis man fandt en god hest, skulle man være hurtig til at handle.

Denne mand, som jeg havde fundet, havde mange forskellige heste i alle størrelser og racer, og han kom ud med den ene efter den anden, som overhovedet ikke var egnet som rideskoleheste. Man har en model i hovedet og tænker, at de skal være rolige og søde, ridevante og gerne kørevante. Til sidst slap han en fuldstændig vanvittig hest ud, som sandsynligvis ikke havde været ude i meget lang tid, og stolt viste den frem. Da den havde hængt oppe i luften i 5 minutter og løbet rundt i longe, spurgte jeg Tamas, om han ikke kunne spørge, om han havde nogle rideskoleheste. Den sidste var ganske vist meget smuk, men jeg havde ikke tid og råd til at købe utrænede, overenergiske heste, da det jo var rideskoleheste, jeg ledte efter.

Manden tænkte lidt, men sagde, at han havde en onkel, som også havde heste ikke langt fra ham, og han havde måske mere af det, jeg havde brug for. Vi kørte alle derhen for at se. Mens manden var inde i stalden og ville lede en hest ud, vi skulle se på, talte vi lidt udenfor om heste generelt og nævnte en hingst, der var meget populær dengang, der hed Cor de la Bryère. Manden kom ud fra stalden med et stort smil og en hest, der ikke var under 25 år, temmelig svajrygget og virkelig havde set sine bedste dage, men meget rolig (som vi jo havde bedt om). “Denne her,” sagde han, “er efter Cor de la Bryère,” og pegede på den stakkels hest, som man let kunne have taget med bare fordi man havde ondt af den. Vi kiggede alle på hinanden og begyndte at grine højlydt. Vi kunne ikke stoppe. Man skal være en meget god hestehandler for at overbevise os om, at den hest havde sådan en afstamning.

Vi fandt heste senere, men det var aldrig nemt at finde netop de heste, jeg gerne ville have med hjem. Mange ture er det blevet til, og det har altid været en stor oplevelse.

What Should a Riding School Horse Be Like?

A few years ago, when I was a dealer, I had many amusing experiences. Both good and bad, but this particular time, we all had a big laugh. I mostly dealt with horses for riding schools in Hungary, which I then brought back to Sweden. There was a significant shortage of riding school horses in Sweden, which probably still exists. Riding schools want gentle, well-trained horses, which are hard to find at the right price in Sweden.

I looked at ads from Sweden before I traveled, but quickly realized that the horse they advertised was not always the one they had. There are places in Hungary where many gypsies live, and they have many horses. However, you need to be quite skilled at identifying what kind of horses they are, as you can easily be deceived. I always had an interpreter with me to feel safe in these areas. You can’t buy a horse with a card, so you need to carry a lot of cash if you want to trade with these people.

On the particular day I want to tell you about, I had two friends from Sweden with me. It was always fun to have friends along, as it was a long drive from Sweden to Hungary and back again. Good to have company and someone to talk to.

We had found some phone numbers that my interpreter, Tamas, called to find directions. It was quite a long way on bad roads, so time was passing, and we needed to hurry if we wanted to see several horses. Finally, we arrived, and as usual, I had the trailer with me, because if you found a good horse, you had to act quickly.

This man I found had many different horses of all sizes and breeds, and he brought out one after another that was not at all suitable as riding school horses. You have a model in your head and think they should be calm and gentle, ridden and preferably driven. Finally, he brought out a completely crazy horse that probably hadn’t been out for a very long time and proudly showed it off. After it had been rearing and galloping around on the longe line for five minutes, I asked Tamas if he could ask if he had any riding school horses. The last one was certainly very beautiful, but I didn’t have the time or money to buy untrained, overly energetic horses since I was looking for riding school horses.

The man thought for a bit but said he had an uncle who also had horses not far from him, and he might have more of what I needed. We all drove there to take a look. While the man was inside the stable leading out a horse for us to see, we talked outside a bit about horses in general and mentioned a stallion that was very popular at the time named Cor de la Bryere. The man came out of the stable with a big smile and a horse that was not under 25 years old, quite sway-backed, and had certainly seen its best days but was very calm (as we had asked for). “This one,” he said, “is by Cor de la Bryere,” and pointed at the poor horse, which you could easily take just because you felt sorry for it. We all looked at each other and started laughing out loud. We couldn’t stop. You must be a very good dealer to convince us that horse had such lineage.

We did find horses later, but it was never easy to find exactly the horses I wanted to bring home. Many trips were made, and it was always a great experience.