Tik Maynard

Mouse darts through the middle, throwing his head, the wind grabbing his mane. Chrome, all knees and hocks, bucks once, twice, and follows.

The two chestnut foals gallop toward Doc, a tall bay gelding, who flattens his ears and lets fly with his hooves. Then his head goes down, back to the tough winter grass—long stalks that wilt at the top and turn brittle near the roots, the season’s last available forage.

The calves trot into the arena. A mosaic of shape, size and color—brown, dun, chestnut, rust, white and black—slowly fills out the back wall. Bruce's stallion, Joker, flings his head as the two of them stand by the gate; he is getting the worst of the dust.

From where I sit—the passenger seat of the Ram 3500—the horse is black, possibly dark bay, about 16 hands, and seems curious enough. He trots to the center of the corral, which is about 15 x 30 meters, pushing his nose up, sniffing the air and looking out at us.

On the drive here Bruce explained that he was to take this horse on for 90 days and start him. The owner, a cattleman, apparently by inclination more than need, wants a new ranch horse. “He's 4,” Bruce told me, "and he's lived out most of his life. This will be all new to him.”

I rip a square of paper towel off the roll beside the sink—dishes overflow onto the counter—and fold it in half to form a pincer between my thumb and forefinger. The satiated tick is still as I pick it up from where it fell off the dog. Its body is smooth and spherical as I roll it between my fingers, and smaller than a pea. I palpate it a couple times. Its texture reminds me of a paintball, or a fresh egg after someone has peeled away the shell, leaving only the thin membrane that seals the yolk and white inside.

“Are you going to squish it?” Rhiannon asks while petting the dog.

My dad is cantering along next to me. He’s riding a big grumpy gelding, Salvador, and I'm riding Amadeus, a Lipizzaner pony, who is struggling to keep up. The track is easily wide enough for both of us, and the footing is excellent; the rainy days are still ahead. My dad looks at me, and I know he’s going to say something inane. It's his eyes—bright and curious—that give away his enthusiasm. And he is always is asking the most obvious questions when he is enthused. It drives me crazy.

In the summer of 2008 Tik Maynard came up with a grand plan. He decided to spend a year working for some of the greatest horsemen he could find in different disciplines and writing about his experiences. So far, he has worked for Johann Hinnemann, Ingrid Klimke and David and Karen O'Connor. Although he spent the summer of 2009 at home in Vancouver, B.C., Canada, he's still working on expanding his equestrian education. 

A platinum sponsorship package for the Rolex Kentucky Three-Day Event costs $20,000. The cheapest sponsorship package, bronze, is $6,000. Both packages include grilled vegetables, sautéed snap peas, chicken paninis, tomato and herb soup, organic spinach salad and an open bar with a bird’s eye view of the main arena. Access to the sponsors’ tent also includes an outside viewing area, which was crowded with young ladies and gentleman, all sporting Ray Bans or Maui Jims.  

I was working in the driveway outside the barn when I met him, this giant of a man. The Live Oak leaves make a thick crinkly carpet on the dry grass, and I was toiling like a convict to turn them into orderly piles. Sweat was trickling off my knuckles and varnishing the handle of the rake, but it was hot satisfying work.

Lauren slowed her chestnut gelding to a walk and turned to look at me. She had to squint because of the glare. Behind her were 100 acres of rolling grassy hills with jumps, banks and ditches scattered around. Behind me the sun was beginning its descent, tired after a morning of baking the already brown grass.

A working student position is hard to get. It’s not the best way to learn to ride. It’s not the most efficient way. And it’s certainly not the easiest way. But for some people it’s the only way.

To become a great rider (not just a good rider) one has to ride great horses. I’ve heard people say they’re improving because they’re riding all the tough horses—the horses nobody else wants to ride. They will become great at riding those kinds of horses.