The fairytalesque Friesian! Throughout the month of February, we are featuring Friesians and Friesian crosses.
Did you know… dressage riders who compete with a member of this stunning breed are eligible for special awards through the Adequan®/USDF All-Breeds Awards program? The Friesian Heritage Horse & Sporthorse International, Friesian Horse Association of North America, Friesian Horse Society, Friesian Sport Horse Registry, and Friesian Sporthorse Associationare all participating organizations!
With life changes ahead of her, this adult amateur was preparing to take a break from horses, until a petite Friesian cross entered her life, stole her heart, and landed them at one of the nation’s most prestigious horse shows!
By Allison Hines
I wasn’t looking for a dressage pony when I met Mouse. In fact, I wasn’t looking for a horse at all. Just a few months away from graduating college, my sights were set on my next chapter and accepting that, despite being a tremendous part of my life, horses would likely be taking a backseat for a while.
And strangely, I was okay with that.
After thirteen years in the hunters and equitation, including four on my college’s Intercollegiate Horse Shows Association (IHSA) team, the sport that had shaped so many chapters of my life suddenly felt distant. My confidence and motivation had begun to fade, and as graduation drew near, I felt a quiet ambivalence settling in toward the very thing that had defined me for so long.
At the end of March, my phone buzzed with a text that changed everything: “Do you want to learn how to start a pony?” The text came from a trainer and former teammate of mine. She had recently acquired a Friesian cross in need of a little TLC. The pony was ready to be started, but she was too tall to do it herself. My response was immediate: “Omg yes.”
Enter Mouse.
A scruffy, slight, grulla pony with three white legs and a tail that could put even the fullest ones to shame. Recently halter broken and shedding in an unfortunate pattern, she looked less like a future dressage prospect and more like a slice of Swiss cheese. She earned her name for her hilariously short stature next to her tall, two-year-old fieldmate and now best friend, Birdie. Mouse liked being brushed, loved being fed, and at the time, couldn’t care less about me.
My job was simple: prepare her to be sold and do not, under any circumstances, get attached.
With my walls up and under expert supervision, the pony-backing process began. From the start, Mouse was nothing but kind and had the greatest sense of humor as I bumbled along through the first few lessons. When I fumbled, she forgave. When I hesitated, she waited.
More often than not, our sessions were greeted by pouring rain, gusty winds, or air brakes from the trash truck that magically appeared every time we walked into the round pen. The day came for me to climb on, and as par for the course, it was cold and raining. I held my breath a little and up I went. In true Mouse fashion, she didn’t bat an eye.
Our sits turned to walks, then trots, then canters, and soon enough, we were out of the round pen. I didn’t realize it then, but somewhere between that first day of groundwork and our first canter, the distance I promised to keep had dissolved. Before long, her inherent kindness and quiet nature were undeniable, and it was clear she was ready for her own little girl.
I found that despite my vow of detachment, I was a little sad at the idea of her leaving. Slowly, “what ifs” and “maybes” crept in, and after a lot of thinking, I realized that at the ripe age of 21, the “little” girl we prepared her for was me. I didn’t know what her job would be or how she’d fit into my future life plans, but I took a leap of faith and bought her anyway.
We were fortunate enough to have a series of dressage schooling shows at the farm and decided to give some Intro tests a try. While I was impressed with her scores, I was most impressed with her bravery and confidence. Not quite sixty days under saddle, she marched around without so much as pricking one ear at the judge’s tent or the spectators around the rail. I was smitten with her.
When every test was met with whistles, whoops, and applause, I realized that my answer to her future was sitting right under my nose. Anyone who knows horses knows that when you find a kind, supportive environment, you don’t leave. And so, dressage queens we became.
Officially members of the Cox Sporthorses team, we set our sights on Dressage at Lexington Presented by the Virginia Dressage Association, and the Three-Year-Old Materiale Fillies class. With the help of the Friesian Heritage Horse and Sporthorse International, we learned about her history and declared her for the Adequan®/USDF All-Breeds Awards program, too.
I expected baby moments from her first field trip, but the pony who greeted me at the horse show was the same one I’d grown to love at home: steady, willing, and confident.
Her first day of competition was exactly ninety days from her first ride. We traded the rope halter and round pen for an echoey indoor and sparkly browband, but she was the same darling pony I met during ride number one.
Though I didn’t know much about dressage, I knew a 72% would punch her ticket to the Materiale Championship at Kingsview Partners Dressage at Devon. I had no expectations, but quietly hoped we might be within striking distance by the end of the weekend.
I chatted on the phone with my mom after our class and found myself obsessively refreshing the score page. I knew we were there for experience, but I couldn’t help but wonder where we finished.
On what must’ve been the twelfth refresh, her score popped up:
72%.
She did it.
We were going to Devon.
I don’t often cry happy tears, so I was certainly caught off guard when they started falling right there behind Barn 4.
Throughout the weekend, her confidence grew, I relaxed, and by the end, little Mouse had three blue ribbons to take home from her first recognized show.
Devon came quickly. That Tuesday night, we competed on the triangle in the Three-Year-Old Pony Fillies. I felt starstruck presenting my own pony, having only shown her on the triangle once before, but by some miracle, my three-year-old had enough confidence for the both of us. With a 77.25%, Mouse earned a red ribbon and moved on to the Pony Filly Championship. While I still felt a little like a deer in headlights, we made our way around the triangle once more, encouraged by cheers from spectators around the rail.
I heard the announcer’s voice crackle over the speaker – Mouse was the reserve champion pony filly. As the ribbon was fastened around her neck, I beamed at the same whistles and applause that had sealed the deal for me at her very first schooling show.
The last time I’d competed in the Dixon Oval, I was jumping the handy round at Junior Hunter Finals. Now, I stood under the lights, overwhelmed by pride and gratitude for a little pony I hadn’t meant to keep. The tears that surprised me at her first horse show threatened to start falling again.
The next day, we competed in the Materiale Championship, and with the confidence and maturity of a seasoned show horse, Mouse earned her personal best score. That score would also help her earn the Adequan®/USDF All-Breeds Awards Champion Materiale Three-Year-Old Fillies award from the Freisian Heritage Horse & Sporthorse International in 2025.
The months after Devon were dedicated to adventuring. We went trail riding with friends, tried the ground pole division at a jumper show, and revisited the schooling dressage shows, this time dressed as the Grinch and Max for Halloween.
There are few horses I know with such willing, try-everything attitudes, especially about tails full of tinsel and jingle bells on their rider, but I’m lucky to say Mouse is one.
Somewhere along the way, the scruffy, slight, Swiss-cheese pony I met in March disappeared. She filled out, grew a shiny coat, and her awkward edges softened. She no longer looked like a project. She looked like herself. And somewhere in those same months, she stopped being “the pony I started” and quietly became my best friend.
I often joke about my “teaching” Mouse, because in truth, she’s taught me just as much. I taught her about carrying a rider, and she taught me about beginning again.
About trusting the process.
About finding your people.
About taking the leap, even when you aren’t sure where you’ll land.
And that stepping away from one identity doesn’t mean losing it; it means making room for another.
And sometimes, if you’re lucky, that begins with a Friesian pony and a fresh start.
It feels fitting that USDF chose ‘fairytalesque’ for their Friesian month, because this chapter has felt exactly that.
