Looking at a Horse in Hungary
I have a background as a horse dealer, and I now live in Hungary. During my active years, I bought many lovely Hungarian horses and brought them to Sweden. Hungarian horses have always been popular, especially for riding schools, because they’re usually well ridden and well handled.
So I’m no longer surprised when people contact me and ask if I know this or that dealer or breeder here. Hungary is a big country, and I’ve mostly bought from private individuals. Dealers were often located in certain areas and belonged to groups that you simply learned to avoid when buying horses.
Most people who reach out to me get the same advice: don’t buy a horse without seeing it. There are many good horses here, but you need to come and look yourself. Some people I’ve sent to friends of mine who occasionally help find horses for a small fee. I trust them, but they’re used to dealing with the cheaper horses – not the performance horses with German or Dutch bloodlines that many Swedish buyers are looking for nowadays. And that raises the obvious question: how did such horses end up in Hungary?
Recently, I was contacted again about a horse with a German pedigree. The video and description showed a really nice horse. But I couldn’t help thinking: Why is a horse like that in Hungary unless something is wrong? Horses of that calibre usually sell for a lot of money, so of course you start to wonder. Sometimes it’s something temporary that can be fixed – sometimes it’s simply a misunderstood horse. But no matter what, it’s always a risk. And when a lot of money is involved, you have to decide for yourself whether the risk is worth taking.
I’ve taken that risk a few times myself – sometimes with luck, sometimes not. The important thing is not to let your emotions take over and not to pay too much. When you’ve seen your “dream horse,” it becomes very easy to overlook certain details, especially when the seller has a wonderful story to tell.
This time I agreed to go and look at the horse. I haven’t bought horses for many years, and I thought it could be fun to see if things had changed. On the way there, I talked to my husband and said that I doubted the beautiful facility shown in the video even existed in that area – I had never heard of such a place.
We were supposed to meet the man who owned the horses at his home and then follow him to the stable. The roads were full of potholes, and we drove for three and a half hours. We had been told they spoke excellent English, but when I called an hour before arrival, I realised that without my Hungarian I wouldn’t have understood a word!
When we followed him the last bit to the stable, it was exactly as I had imagined. No indoor arena, no riding arena, no paddocks in sight. Just three boxes with three horses. They rushed into the box, threw on the halter, and dragged the horse out. This particular group of people has a special way of yanking and pulling on the lead rope. They want the horse to look lively, tail up and head high. This hasn’t changed since my trading days. I’ve often tried to explain that we Scandinavians prefer calm, balanced horses when viewing them, but they still show them in the same way.
I checked the horse, measured it, and had the little round man trot it up and down the street while dogs barked and children screamed. No rider, no place to let the horse loose. It didn’t surprise me – I’ve seen it many times before – but back then the prices were completely different. Horses are perishable goods: a horse that was ridden three months ago might not accept a rider now. If it has “rested itself sound,” all the issues might return as soon as you start working it again.
The sellers were very kind and even offered coffee and Palinka – perhaps they thought a little shot might loosen us up! Luckily, we weren’t the ones planning to buy the horse. I thought they were lovely, actually – I could easily have taken all three home with me.
They looked disappointed when no deal was made, but that’s life. We headed home again, hungry after the long day, and found a wonderful restaurant where we were served a huge schnitzel. After all the bumpy roads, it was a perfect end to the day. And the best part was that our dog forgave us instantly for being away so long when he got the half schnitzel we brought home for him.
