I mean this in the kindest way possible. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not knocking showing. I’m just poking a little fun at the crazy life of the horse-show addicted. And I 100% believe it’s an affliction and if we could do something else, we would. I’m including myself in this even though I was on what I like to call the “Diva Groom Plan” (fly in two days after the show started, fly out halfway through tear-down. Suited me perfect. Annoyed everyone else, I’m sure).

Here’s why I say it’s a circus.

There are literal tents and small cities, with attractions (stall fronts, booze, nerf gun fights) erected in previously empty spaces.

The roadies spend at least half their year either at a horse show or on the road to one. You know who else travels the country that much? Musicians, Rodeo cowboys (and cowgirls), and Carnies. Showing horses is definitely not as lucrative as playing music. Horse shows aren’t nearly as romanticized and admired as rodeoing. So we’re left with carnies at a circus as the most similar comparison.

And just like the circus, we’ve got all our own unique side shows outside the main ring entertainment.

There’s The Angry Clown. He’s the trainer everyone knows is an asshole, but they wear their teeth down gritting and smiling in his direction. Outsiders can recognize this man by his overly confident swagger, 100-watt smile that turns off as soon as he turns away, and a revolving door of grooms. The ever-shifting faces of help is the number one giveaway. Angry clowns can’t keep good help.

Next up, come right over and view The Magician. Everything this trainer touches turns to gold.  Wobbly rider? Gangly, awkward-moving horse? No worries, no problems! She’s got just the solution for any challenge. Is it slight-of-hand? Witchcraft? A deal with the devil? No one’s quite sure where she drew her powers of training, but if you’re desperate to be in roses, she’ll get you there. For a fee of course.

Buffalo Bill Cody wasn’t the only ringmaster who celebrated the romance of the old west. And this horse show circus has their very own Pecos Bill. I could have said Yosemite Sam because some of these old cowboys have more hair on their faces than I have on my dang head, but I’ve never seen Yosemite Sam on a horse. And horses and bein’ a wild west cowboy is kind of Pecos Bill’s thing. Sometimes this trainer/exhibitor/character has a cigarette dangling from his lips. Sometimes the cigarette’s teetering between two fingers while he’s lopin’ circles. Other times he takes his tobacco in the form of a dip. It may seem like I’m pulling your leg, that I’m giving you a caricature of a man. But I swear on my horse’s life that these men are real and they still exist and my little heart warms at the sight of them. (You know, aside from the threat of lung cancer, oral cancer, or burning down the whole fruiting fairgrounds. But I digress.)

And last but not least, what would a circus be without Trick Horses?

Only these horses aren’t like your usual trick horses, seemingly normal appearing and then rearing on command or carrying vaulting girls. Oh no, these horses choose their own tricks. They look like regular show horses right up until the time they enter the in-gate. Once they’ve passed the threshold some dark force takes hold and they test their ability for acrobatics. Perhaps they were jumpers in their former lives, and now see the arena wall as a double-oxer. Or maybe the soul of a really rank bronc overcomes the mind of a well-mannered hunter, who suddenly wishes to test his ability to unseat his rider. Whatever the cause, the trick horses are sprinkled throughout all disciplines and can strike at the most unexpected of times. It’s part of their “charm.”

There may be bearded women in this circus, but those aren’t part of the attraction. That’s just the brutal reality of being on the road for so long we can’t spend any time on personal grooming.

Lest you wonder how this circus even fills its ranks, there’s always the runaways. “Technically” their parents know the approximate area of the country they’re in, and the trainers are the (somewhat absentee) parental supervision. These youth have been swept up in the rush and swirl of adrenaline and drama that comes with showing. Just like running away with the circus loses its luster after a time, only those most afflicted with the addiction stay on the road. And those, my friends, are our future trainers.

I can’t wait to meet them.