And Then Came Hera

ONE The Grandstands were packed! The cheering, camera flashing, hooting and hollering of noisy spectators that had traveled from all over the United States, Canada and South America were anxiously waiting. They wanted to capture a moment of exhilarating excitement, by merely sitting on the sidelines while anticipating the eye-catching big draft horse show to begin. The music was a fast clipped tune that introduced the rhythm of the hoof beats. Commencement of the glamorous exhibition that would take your breath away had finally arrived. It was excitement, suspense, a stampede of limitless bounds, promising a dazzling appearance. The gladiators were about to enter and give a life or death performance for the entertainment of the crowds. In the distance you could hear the jingle of traces, the pounding of earth shaking hooves and then entered the majestic beasts of burden. One by one the single hitch “Gentle Giants” pulled a fast moving, sleek, two-wheeled cart, entering the in-gate at a fast pace. Each competitor was a colossal, stunningly beautiful draft horse driven by a woman. These women had guts of steel to go out there and master the art of driving huge draft horses in a highly competitive class called “Ladies Cart Hitch” in Loveland, Colorado. This was the warm up show, the Big Thunder Classic, for the Grand National Stock Show in Denver the following week in late January, 2007. No one could deny that each and every draft horse moved with the nobility, grace, and dignity of a royal monarch. The air was electrifying in the pavilion at that moment as the crowds held their breath and were perched on the edge of their seats. The horses and their drivers had bewitched the audience with their sense of drama which was paramount. Nothing that had come before on that day had been so enchanting or filled with inspiration to the passionate viewer. The women competitors entered the arena and began the designated pattern set by the standards of the class. Around and around they went until everyone in the class had merged into line inside the arena. All of the beautiful draft horses were directly in front of one another, evenly spaced as they trotted along with their high stepping gait. They pulled a lustrous jazzy cart sporting an elegantly dressed lady driver, stylish hat on head with whip in hand. The judge then began the work of observing every detail of the turnout and the performance of the draft horse. The cart, the horse, and the harness combined are called the turnout. Colors are selected to enhance the appearance of the horse one is showing. They are called the barn colors, and all the equipment is painted in the chosen color to brand the ranch they represent. The carts are polished to perfection as is the brass and nickel on the thousands of dollars worth of harness that sparkle and gleam under the dazzling lights. The metal parts on the harness jingle and jangle on the backs of the drafts as they move along in step to the music. Throughout the year, hours upon hours of time, training, feeding, grooming, cleaning and practicing was undertaken, and now these few precious moments of truth were the rewards that may, or may not, come to fruition. Judgment day had arrived in the high-end draft horse business. Everything is on the line. One false move, a slight misbehavior by the horse, or a little blunder by the driver would cost dearly on your ranking in the class. One could drop from first to third place by simply having a little too much slack on the ribbons or a little too much wrist motion of the hands. The old timer’s call the lines the ribbons. Perhaps a horse had done beautifully all year in minor shows and at training time, and for some reason, the noise, lights, camera flashes, or crowds could induce a blow up and misbehavior of the animal and it would not rank in the competition at all.