Horses in millennials' lives: are they a help or a hindrance?

Owning a horse is still seen by the general public as something ‘elitist’ or ‘posh’ to do. Even though we, as equestrians, know that’s not always the case, those outside the equestrian bubble might be onto something.

For us, our horses are our world. Their cost, however outrageous, becomes a necessity, not a luxury. We see them as pets, much like ‘regular’ folk see a cat or dog. And while owning a small pet certainly comes with expenses (Battersea Dogs & Cats Home estimates around £2,000 a year to own a dog), horses take things to another level.

When you factor in their lifespan, often double that of a dog, plus livery, feed, tack, lessons, transport and insurance, the numbers quickly spiral. Most of us don’t own our horses from foals, and unlike dogs and cats, it’s common for them to have multiple owners in their lifetime. Still, the ongoing cost of keeping a horse, especially if you ride or compete, is astronomical.

If you’re like me – someone who grew up in the early 2000s – horses were an enormous part of your childhood. I was your stereotypical ‘horse girl’: cantering instead of running, ‘picking out’ the soles of my friends’ trainers when we played ponies. You get the picture.

Coming from a non-horsey family, owning was something I always aspired to. I was very lucky when my parents bought me my horse of a lifetime at sixteen, back in 2013 – a horse I still own twelve years later. He’s been my longest relationship to date. But my goodness, both I and the world I’m living in have changed a lot in those twelve years.

Throughout my life I’ve chased freedom and independence, as most people do in their twenties. During that time, I’ve juggled one or two horses alongside learning to drive, university, first jobs, relationships and moving out, all while navigating this all-consuming ‘hobby’ (if you can even call it that).

Looking back now, would I have given up so much for my horses? I’m not sure.

I’ll be honest, my university experience was ruined by them. Yes, I still got my degrees and even spent the first five years of my career writing and marketing in the equestrian space. But would I have ventured further if I hadn’t been so tied down by the responsibility? Maybe. Is it a regret? Sort of.

I’ve always been on DIY, wanting to do it all myself and see my horses every day. I did try full livery at uni, but I still ended up coming home every weekend to ride and be with them. I never allowed myself to fully settle into student life, always darting between two worlds. I only went half an hour up the road, too – maybe I wasn’t ready to go further then, but now I’d love the chance to start anew.

Then there’s the financial weight. When you get a horse as a teenager, funded by your parents during a very different economic time, that’s a lot to carry when you’re trying to become financially independent. You automatically inherit an extra weight your friends don’t have.

I could just about sustain it when I first started working, but lately I’ve reduced my horse’s costs as much as possible – even giving up riding for now – so he still lives his best life and the basics are covered. But I can’t afford lessons, transport or new tack like I used to. Even the second-hand market has taken a hit. Recently, my horse needed to switch to his “old man saddle”. In the past, I’ve never had any trouble reselling – Facebook groups, fitters, you name it – saddles always held their value well. But now, no one seems to have the money to buy. So instead, I’m left with a collection of unwanted tack and a hole in my savings.

If, like me, you see a horse as being for life and not just for a competition season, then keeping that promise is emotionally and financially hard, especially now. I feel incredibly grateful for the life they’ve given me, the lessons I’ve learnt and the friends I’ve made along the way. But until now, very few seem to talk openly enough about the struggles attached.

More and more, I’ve started to hear that honesty surface, from the challenges of running a livery yard and the unpaid emotional labour it entails, to owners struggling quietly to afford what they’d like for their horses.

So in this day and age, do the benefits really outweigh the drawbacks of owning?

There are plenty of ways to stay involved with horses that don’t require ownership, and if I had my time again, maybe I’d have gone down one of those routes. At the time, though, owning made sense. I always expected my earning potential to rise but instead, costs have risen far faster than any pay increase or job change could keep up with. I’m worse off now than I’ve ever been.

So if you want to keep your horse, and your hobby, in a world where one unexpected vet bill or bout of bad luck could change everything, is it all just madness? Should horse ownership be left to the wealthy alone?

It’s a hard topic, because the equestrian landscape today is so different from the one we grew up dreaming about when we were reading Pony Club Secrets and watching The Saddle Club. Back then, all the drama was fictional and everything worked out okay in the end. It was magical.

But maybe we ’90s babies are feeling a sense of collective disillusionment with that ultra-nostalgic place of escape we loved so dearly. The realities of adulthood and today’s economy are showing the class divide in the equestrian world more strongly than ever. And that’s a lot to carry.