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Post by Sam on Jan 28, 2010 21:45:13 GMT -5
Horses The True Nut (Only a little in the beginning, not racing just an update), Epidemic (Not really doing anything at all, but she's there!), and Cute Italian
Jockey/ Handler Samantha Lettington (And some of Sandra Crow)
Purpose An update for The True Nut and a workout for the Unicorn Horn Series Dirt race for Cute Italian.
The buckskin filly was restless to say the least. Ever since Nut had been retired and bred she's been nothing but a ball of nerves. Easy girl, I cooed, my hand reaching out and running down her hip as she paced around the stall, throwing her head in frustration. She hated being cooped up but until that new paddock was dry she couldn't be let out to pasture. Normally, she would be put out with the other horses but with her being pregnant, I didn't want to risk her injuring herself or her unborn foal. So Nut had be isolated to a neighboring, smaller pasture but due to heavy rain, it was nearly flooded. With how much she runs around, she would likely slip and hurt herself in the mud.
Don't worry, I breathed as she came to stand at the stall door. You'll have a little guy running around so much you'll be too busy to even think of racing. It didn't seem to matter to the young mother-to-be. She rushed her head out of her stall and peered around. Her gaze lingered on the tack room for a moment before it rested on me with an almost pleading look.
With a sigh, I reached into my pocket and retrieved a treat I had baked yesterday for the horses. Nut always seemed to love these treats the most and figured it may help cheer her up somewhat. Nut took it without much thought and chewed on it slowly. She lowered her head so her forehead was in my chest and her muzzle was in my hands, still chewing on the treat. With a small smile, I let my head rest gently on her forelock.
For a moment, she stayed put and seemed to enjoy this small moment as much as I did but soon enough she swung her head back up and wheeled back into her stall to pout in the corner.
And I thought her mood swings were bad before, Sandra said coming in from the pastures with Epidemic by her side. The half blind jockey watched the buckskin mare with a keen eye before it landed on me.
I shrugged. I had been thinking the same thing but I wanted to make an excuse for my favorite mare. Still, there wasn't much of an excuse besides Nut being well... Nutty. I shrugged and pushed off the stall and headed for the pastures myself. Remember to take it easy on her, I reminded Sandra over my shoulder just as I stepped out of the barn.
I didn't bother to listen to a reply as I grabbed Callie's halter. The buckskin, dressed in four white stockings and a blaze, shared Nut's bloodlines and some of her racing spirit but luckily not her personality. I loved my Nutters and all but I couldn't handle a second Nut... Wait, why am I breeding her then?... Ah well!
As soon as I stepped into the pasture and bolted the gate behind me, Callie took notice. I smiled at her and walked towards her. She hesitated, giving me a small once over before the lean buckskin walked towards me.
The halter quickly slipped over her head and I fished out a treat for the mare. Her pink and black nose only sniffed at the offered, home-made treat. I wiggled it under her lips but she just refused to eat it. I blinked and gave her a quick once over with my eyes. She didn't appear ill... Maybe she just wasn't a treat kind of horse.
Silently we walked through the chilly morning air. A shiver passed through me and I shrugged my jacket tighter to me but it didn't seem to help my cold fingers or cold ears and cheeks, all rosy with the cold nipping at them.
Soon I was back in the warmth of the stables. I decided to go the long way around the stables in hopes that Nut wouldn't see me and become even more upset. Sure, I was cold for a bit longer, but I felt bad for Nut.
The buckskin filly's red blanket was slipped off her back and soon her buckskin pelt was given a quick brush before her small tack was put into place. She stood still, nearly dozing the whole time.
Eventually, I was swinging my leg over her back. She seemed nearly giddy about being ridden. She pranced slightly but listened easily with no arguments.
Callie was the underdog in the race- the Unicorn Horn Series Dirt race to be exact. She had no amazing sire or dam, she had no extensive work, she wasn't the talk of the race. The only thing possibly incredible about her was her half-sister, The True Nut. If anything, she's been out shined by her sister.
I was never one to believe blood lines and past races won a race but when you are up against Fleet Goddess, a Breeder's Cup winner, Silver Stalker, a Breeder's Cup placer along with amazing bloodlines, Bank On Glory, a past Unicorn Stakes winner with a Hall of Fame mother, and Radiance, a Breeder's Cup winner, it was easy to see how Cute Italian could be overlooked.
Callie did have her own amazing accomplishments though. Winning the Preakness and placing in the Breeder's Cup is certainly not something anyone can just overlook.
Down the dirt track we jogged, forgetting my thoughts of the upcoming race and concentrated on the horse at hand. Her shoed hooves bounced off the spongy dirt, slightly wet with the dew and nearly onto the point of freezing. If it one of the workers didn't drag the track this morning to loosen up the soil, I was positive it would have been.
Callie's gait was easy going and simple. It didn't change tempo and was relatively consistent. Her head was bowed slightly with one ear to the side and the other on me. She was rather mature for a three year old. I wasn't use to handling mature horses so this would be a real treat for me!
Fifteen minutes passed and the filly was flowing easily into a canter, her right hooves leading as we cantered counter clock wise around the outer edge of the track were at the end of the stretch were the twelve furlong marker stood.
After a few strides, I slowly turned her around to canter clock wise on the inner track. Unlike many of the young racehorses I rode, she did not grow excited or tried to pick up speed. She waited and listened like a much older horse would.
I quickly got into position and clucked to her. She flew into a gallop under me. My hands followed her for several strides until we came to a speed I was satisfied with.
I, myself, was not one that liked long distance races. I liked the sprints, they were fast and furious. It always got my blood pumping. But long distance races made me dull at first until it finally picked up speed at the stretch. And the sprints never felt as fast.
Around the clubhouse turn, we flew onto the backstretch. Our pace was rather slow, as it must be for a long distance race, and Callie seemed reserved and satisfied with herself at this speed.
The backstretch drug on slowly. Every now and then I would ask for a small release of speed before having her ease back down. I was unsure if there would be a speed battle to the stretch but Callie would not be a part of it. We would probably stay behind the front runners and wait for them to tire. Callie had plenty of endurance and a good amount of speed when asked for it. She could gallop much longer then this race's distance and I would have plenty of horse for the sprint down the stretch.
The last turn came upon us. I asked for a bit more speed and she gave it as we galloped around the wide turn, slowly pick up more and more speed until finally we came to the stretch.
With the push of my hand and a cluck of my tongue, she was giving it her all. I tapped her shoulder with the whip and followed her mouth. Her black mane tickled my face and her pink and black muzzle snaked forwards and back. Her pink hooves dug deep into the dirt, directed by her white, thin legs.
Her strides were long, but quick. Her hind legs powered her faster and faster. Her breathes rolled out into the cold air, turning into clouds that would fall past her body and slowly disappear into nothing.
The wire flew over us and I stood in the stirrups. She slowed as well, her ears pricked and still eager from the run. Maybe you aren't such the underdog I thought you were, I said, breathless but still managing a laugh as I patted her sweaty neck. She bowed her head slightly, as if she was bashful from the praise.
Word Count: 1,539
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