Post by Deleted on Jun 24, 2012 16:53:40 GMT -5
She'd just arrived this week - the beautiful maximum sabino filly - she was practically white, so white didn't exist. What a beauty she was. As soon as the bold gallant filly stepped off the lorry, it was love at first sight. Alice told me the morning before she arrived that I would be the one to finish off her training, and to race her. She was almost a two-year-old, and physically mature enough now to be ridden - what difference would two weeks make? She'd been backed with her previous owner - the gate and halter training - now it was really time to show what she had. I would be schooling her today on the track, leading her up and down in tack - just to see how she would go. That moment when she stepped effortlessly off the trailer was a moment to treasure. Alice lead her down, and turned her in, standing her square. The filly looked around and pricked her ears, before whinnying and snorting, the steam from her nose produced by the mixing of hot and cold air. Alice handed her to me. She's yours now... good luck with her, she's got great lines, and she will definitely show off what she has in store. I smiled, trying not to cry tears of joy and now I'm here - with this beauty. The Blanchette and Memorials Blaze filly. I went to place the saddle slightly on to her back, and she stood still, looking around, not phased at all. I then checked if she was okay with the bit. I opened her mouth and put the bit in, and again, she was fine. I lead her out onto the track, but I couldn't stop thinking about her bloodlines... Both of Emma's parents were very shy, or very quiet and collected. They didn't freak out or become over anxious or excited. They were very calm and knew how to handle certain situations. Blanchette, was an accomplished grade one turf racer. She knew how to handle everything about the turf, and was good at running her best. She won the Universal Cup, Winter Cup, Merry Bay King Memorial Stakes, Summer Cup, Autumn Cup, and placed in the Breeder's Cup Turf. Emma's sire was also an accomplished turf racer. He ran his best season as a four year old, and made it from a grade five to a grade two in only a few weeks. He won big races like the Boy's and Star Festival, and placed or showed in many other big turf races such as the Breeder's Cup Turf, Dream Cup, Full Moon Derby, Melbourne Cup, Cox Plate, and the Little Miss Innocent Memorial Stakes.
On the track, the filly looked around. It was all familiar to her, and she wasn't afraid. I would only be walking and trotting her around to get her used to the surroundings – as well as gate loading. She was only a week away from becoming a beautiful two-year-old, and she was almost ready to race. I lead her forward and without reluctance, she stepped forward, pricking her ears and snorting, before chomping rapidly on her d-ring snaffle. Walking along the turf, the filly perked her ears. I turned her in a few twenty meter circles, and clicked her forward. Recalling what I had been told, Emma liked to break steadily and quietly, lingering at the back and making a big move as she comes for home. We weren’t just ready to practise that yet. I knew she had the speed and the stamina, but she was still classed as a yearling – she wasn’t ready for it all just yet, even if she had been through it before. I walked her back round to the corner of the track and asked her for a trot. She responded instantly, trotting along the surface, pricking her ears running beside me. I gave her a loose rein as a lea her, not pulling on her mouth too much. I slowed her down and we reached the gate. I halted her behind it, facing her towards it and stroked her neck.
I let her look some more and took her a step closer. She sniffed it and touched it with her muzzle, knowing it wouldn’t hurt her. It wasn’t a huge monster that would eat her up. I signalled the handler over. Can we walk her through a few times and then leave her in for a minute, then I’ll let walk her out, does that sound okay? He nodded, and smiled, taking hold of the rein. Another person opened the front. Emma looked around, but without hesitation, she walked in. I stroked her, and muttered good girl to her. The handler let her look around, then lead her through. We took her round again, and each time we did it, she walked through perfectly. The handler then closed the front of the gate. She was lead in, and I stroked her neck. Good girl Emma, She stood quietly, in the gate, looking round without hesitation. She didn't spook, flinch, or anything, as theoretically still a yearling, she was bombproof. We lead her out and she did nothing - not one thing wrong. I was so proud of her.
On the track, the filly looked around. It was all familiar to her, and she wasn't afraid. I would only be walking and trotting her around to get her used to the surroundings – as well as gate loading. She was only a week away from becoming a beautiful two-year-old, and she was almost ready to race. I lead her forward and without reluctance, she stepped forward, pricking her ears and snorting, before chomping rapidly on her d-ring snaffle. Walking along the turf, the filly perked her ears. I turned her in a few twenty meter circles, and clicked her forward. Recalling what I had been told, Emma liked to break steadily and quietly, lingering at the back and making a big move as she comes for home. We weren’t just ready to practise that yet. I knew she had the speed and the stamina, but she was still classed as a yearling – she wasn’t ready for it all just yet, even if she had been through it before. I walked her back round to the corner of the track and asked her for a trot. She responded instantly, trotting along the surface, pricking her ears running beside me. I gave her a loose rein as a lea her, not pulling on her mouth too much. I slowed her down and we reached the gate. I halted her behind it, facing her towards it and stroked her neck.
I let her look some more and took her a step closer. She sniffed it and touched it with her muzzle, knowing it wouldn’t hurt her. It wasn’t a huge monster that would eat her up. I signalled the handler over. Can we walk her through a few times and then leave her in for a minute, then I’ll let walk her out, does that sound okay? He nodded, and smiled, taking hold of the rein. Another person opened the front. Emma looked around, but without hesitation, she walked in. I stroked her, and muttered good girl to her. The handler let her look around, then lead her through. We took her round again, and each time we did it, she walked through perfectly. The handler then closed the front of the gate. She was lead in, and I stroked her neck. Good girl Emma, She stood quietly, in the gate, looking round without hesitation. She didn't spook, flinch, or anything, as theoretically still a yearling, she was bombproof. We lead her out and she did nothing - not one thing wrong. I was so proud of her.
