The Bear's driver, bodyguard and factotum, a.k.a the Shepherdess, a.k.a. Red Death, his mate, used to jump. The Bear built her some low jumps and she would put on her cute little helmet, pull on her long boots, take her crop in hand (whew! It's getting hot in here) and ride around jumping Connemara ponies she trained.
The Bear had an enormous quarter-horse that Red Death hated. Dolly. Dolly would only pay attention to someone over a certain weight. She was a doll for the Bear, but every time Red Death tried to ride her, Dolly would pick a compass heading and canter in a straight line, ignoring obstacles. It was hilarious to watch her plow right through the hedge.
Riding horses is a lot of fun. But the Bear told his wife it would be cheaper to buy a Cadillac, fill it with fur coats, and set fire to it. A horse needs horse chow. It needs tack. It needs a farrier and a vet. It needs a barn to live in. Oh, an acreage for the barn, and a paddock besides. And you need to pay the doctors when you inevitably fall off and get brain damaged or break something.
Dolly loved to jump. She would just jump for fun without anybody riding her. Cantering around the paddock, taking the jumps on her own. Weird. Especially for a quarter-horse.
The Bear does not recall what happened to the horses and ponies. He thinks they all may have become quarter-horses. Maybe eighth-horses.
By the way, the Bear could easily win such a competition. He might even be able to make it over a jump or two. Corbinian would be an expensive meal, though.