I’m a journalism major. My brain has always shied away from something with a cold, hard, absolute answer and would rather find a creative, roundabout, acceptable way to explain things.
Therefore, it’s safe to assume that math is not my strongest suit.
But lately, I’ve seen posts, read memes and heard jokes about horse math, and it got me thinking, “Now that’s something I can potentially wrap my silly little right-brain around.”
See, equine math doesn’t make sense to anyone besides people with horses. Even then, it doesn’t always make sense. It doesn’t have to.
It’s a vortex of a world where hay equals currency, and breeding fees are simply an intelligent investment. Vet bills are never factored into the total cost of something, and the prettier bridle of the two is always the smarter investment. Potential giddiness on one side of a problem always throws the weight of a mathematical equation in that side’s favor. It often overrules common financial sense.
Here’s an example. Say I’m torn on who to breed to. The breeding fee is $3,500 for one stallion, $7,500 for the other. They are closely related, and both would cross well on my mare. The resale value on either weanling — that’s not born unbelievably incredible or dinky — is similar. You say the $7,500 stallion is black? On my red roan mare, I’ve got a 25% chance of getting a blue roan? Well, that’s a no-brainer.
This theory extends beyond horses alone. Tack and gear are definitely qualifiers when it comes to this type of logic.
Oh, that correction bit has an intricate overlay. Love that. Does it feel the same when I use it versus the plain one? Yes. Will it help me win more money? No.
Leave me alone and let me spend the extra $250.
Horse math also applies to comparing the values of two numbers or expressions. Watch and learn.
One good day in the saddle > 99 good days out of it.
Desk jobs < wide open spaces.
60 days are not all created equal.
Now, if you don’t have horses, make sure you understand the conversions in case you spend time with people who do. Time falls into the rule of threes. If someone is going to be at the barn for “just 10 minutes” it means a half an hour. An hour really means three. Holidays almost certainly mean a catastrophic emergency vet event or colic.
A “couple of horses” means five, and usually two of those are bred. A “few” horses generally falls somewhere between seven and 10, and if they say they don’t know how many horses they actually own (I feel seen), you might just want to start a Go-Fund-Me for their hay bill.
Donkeys, ponies and yearlings take up less space, cost less to feed and require little maintenance. They only use a half tube of dewormer. They don’t even really count in the final herd totals.
Let’s say I had a good show last fall. I won $8,500 and a couple of buckles. Well, my entries cost me $2,300. My Air BnB was $975-ish, with cleaning fee. Fuel, stalls, time away from making real money, Doordash for Chicken Minis every morning, new shirt to celebrate being in the finals, accidental yearling purchase at the horse sale — still driving home feeling money ahead. Horse math.
I know this is a lot, and I don’t mean to make it complicated. To sum it up, short and sweet — there are a lot of problems out there, and almost all of ‘em can be solved with just one more horse.
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