The goal was to break the egg.
That was the point of that game: race to the middle of the arena, break the egg, and race back "home."
Who knew that eggs could be so elusive? We stomped, and scraped, and backed, scooted forward, and swung sideways, with riders trying like crazy to break that dang shell, and horses carefully placing feet so that no potential chickens would be harmed....
We actually did scramble the egg, jump the jumps, circle the barrels, and even plunk the golfball into the little bucket during the course of the Standardbred Play Day in Langley, BC.
Not bad for a plain old brown horse with a big old head, eh?