Sale Ad Translations
One of the many hats I wear is matchmaker, helping my clients find horses. That means a lot of reading sale ads, and over my years, I’ve developed a little dictionary, to translate into normal people speak. Here are a few of the entries. (And if you’re lacking a sense of humor, I’d stop reading, right now.)
Well-bred prospect for any discipline! = but not good at any of them. This is the branch of the family tree that needed to be pruned.
Hunter or dressage prospect = moves like a Dodge Dart but I’m hoping you won’t notice because Donnerhall is in it’s pedigree.
Competed to 3* but selling as a dressage horse = lame.
Competed to 3* but selling as a jumper = feral.
Competed to Second Level but selling as a hunter = fat, pretty and with hind legs so far out behind it couldn’t change clean if it’s life depended on it.
Competed to Second Level but selling as an eventer = feral.
Competed to 1.30 but selling as a dressage horse = lame AND slow.
Competed to 1.30 but selling as a hunter = lame, fat AND slow.
Competed as a hunter but selling as a dressage horse = clean up on aisle 4.
Has papers from the Friesian Heritage Horse Association = at least half Percheron.
Has papers from the International Dutch Harness Horse Association = at least half Standardbred.
This unexpected breeding… = goddamn 2-year-old colt jumped the fence and bred a lesson horse.
This unexpected line breeding… = goddamn 2-year-old colt jumped the fence and bred his sister.
Serious inquiries only = expensive.
To a loving home only = I’m going to email you every week to ask how Fluffy is doing.
To a competition home only = needs to stay in training or it’ll eat you
For the ambitious amateur, Jr/YR or pro = hope you have a half halt or you’re going to be paint on the train.
Many in-hand successes! = thank god it’s pretty, because it moves like a Jack Russell Terrier on linoleum.
Outgrown by his amateur owner = amateur owner found out having to kick every stride is a bummer.
Schooling First Level = leg yields are harrrrrd.
Schooling Third Level = changes are harrrrrd.
Schooling Fourth Level = First Level horse with a clean change that defies explanation, but will probably high-ho silver if you half halt.
Schooling Grand Prix = will jiggle out hacking when his buddy leaves.
Bombproof = hope you can kick really hard.
Athletic = hope you can pull really hard.
A Unicorn! = can’t afford it.
World Class! = either can’t afford it, or it trots for a 5, and the seller should probably spend more time on YouTube.
Elvis is really cool, guys. He’s keen but relatively unemotional. He’s athletic, but he’s also efficient. His default answer is yes. There’s a heck of a lot to like.
For those who’ve never been, south Florida is… gross. It’s warm and soggy all the time, there’s a lot of microbes in the soil, and land is a gajillion dollars so turnout is small and sandy. It’s a recipe for some challenges with my horses’ skin, and leg skin in general, being close to the ground, and often wearing boots while sweating. But ten winters down here has given me some tools. Here are my favorites right now.
A few neat training metaphors I’ve either made up myself or shamelessly stolen from others. If I could draw, I’d draw these, but I can’t, so instead you get my words. Enjoy.
There’s a kid I see pop up on my social media from time to time. She starts young horses and then sells them, which is why I see her posts. The horses are always well groomed and ridden and presented tactfully. The videos are well put together. The text on her ads is articulate and correct. And that’s all well and good, but the part that stands out is that this kid can RIDE. She’s clearly bold. She sits. She puts her leg on. She’s the kind of rider I want a million of for my own barn, and she’s young and driven and, according to her website, hungry for excellence at the international level one day.
I know it’s impolite to whine about the weather in South Florida right now, while the rest of the country is Ice Station Zero, but it’s really been quite hot in Wellington. Here’s a few products I can’t live without at the moment, when the high temperatures are keeping me and my horses sweaty and gross most of the day.
You’ve got the space in your barn, you’ve saved up a reasonable budget, and your current string is all old enough and civilized enough that it’s time to begin again. The search is on for a young horse.

Greetings from Wellington. Things are going well. That’s a scary sentence to write, because a) things can go Extremely Not Well at the drop of a hat on a myriad of fronts, but also b) deadly virus killing people and careers and livelihoods makes me sound like I’m fiddling while Rome burns, talking about how nicely my ponies are going. I acknowledge how lucky I am to be able to work out of doors. I am wildly grateful for my head being able to stay above water—only just, at times in the last year, but still above—during a time that has been so phenomenally difficult for so many.