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Post by .*.Brandy.*. on Mar 2, 2009 12:01:34 GMT -5
I watched the filly carefully as she bucked slightly on the lunge line, tossing her elegantly shaped crainia. Her mouth easily chomped on the mock-bit in her mouth (It was apple flavored so she didn't mind it). Her movement was free and easy as she trotted along like a picture of beautiful hunter ideals. But that wasn't what we were going for. Her easy movement proved that she wouldn't have issues with lameness or getting those long sweeping strides that so many stable owners wanted from their racers. I clucked lightly to Erin now, gently tugging on the lunge line to regain her attention. The bay filly's auds flickered towards me, her speed and length of stride increasing just enough for me to know she was listening.
That's it... That's a girl. Go!
With a stamp of my foot on the track's turf terrain, Erin leapt forward into a gallop on the larger circle I had given her. Auds pinned against her head, watching her run made me confident that she was the most determined out of all of those young horses she would be competing against. It was so interesting to watch her around the barn and then on the track. She was rambunctious and spirited around the barn, a real pleasure to be around on the ground but once you got her on the track, she means business. Just watching her form move along the circle at a hand gallop strengthened my suspicions. She used her well developed hocks and ankles to push of each turn to gain more speed. Now she was moving a quick pace, her nostrils flared, giving her muscles more oxygen to work with.
She was enjoying herself but from looking at her, you probably couldn't tell. She was so sincerely focused on what she was doing, if you had thrown something at her, she wouldn't bat an eye. Around the barn, she could be spooky but here, she was totally with me. We were on the same wavelength and I expected that this same bond would continue on with age. I understood her and she knew what I wanted. I tightened the lunge line now, slowing her to an easy canter, her hunter trot and then a walk. She stopped on her own, turning her beautiful face to look at me. She nickered low her throat as I approached her, patting her warm neck. She rubbed her face on my arm and I shook my head lightly at her antics and took her bridle in my fingers, speaking to her softly.
You've got this one, girlie.
Erin was my first racing prospect and I was confident in her abilities. As if she understood what I said, Erin bobbed her head up and down defiantly, stamping a forehoof. A light smile pressed onto my lips as I led her off the track, heading back to the trailer for my other racehorse, a significantly more neurotic two year old, Patrick.
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