Jack was our resident Harlequine guru-- their flaky personalities clicked with Jack's no-nonsense manner of horsemanship. He didn't coddle the tricolored divas, and the seven horses in his care were coming along swimmingly. Ordinarily, Casca considered her Harlequines too high-strung for serious under-saddle training. All horses at the farm were green-broke, at least, but her instructions implied that the Harlequines were to be shown exclusively in halter and liberty classes. Jack was never one to listen to advice he didn't agree with, of course.
Cygne was just a weanling filly when she first came to Breezeway from Toronto. Her dam was a fine Palfrey-type BL Harlequine, with the lightness and grace of her Arabian ancestors, but her sire was unknown. As Cygne grew (and grew and GREW) it became apparent that her sire could not be another Arab-- not pure, at least. The puzzle-marked filly was already over sixteen hands high by the time she was four, and none of us would be surprised if she managed to gain another inch or so. She bounced around her pasture with the suspension and scope of a warmblood despite her delicately dished face and her hindquarters were deep and round although she carried her tail high. Whatever her sire was, Jack decided Cygne was a performance horse and not a pretty ornament, and that it would be a waste to not train her for something. Plus, at six feet tall, he had complained numerous times about being responsible for a bunch of 15-hand shorties.
So, covertly at first, Jack slapped the dusty dressage saddle onto Cygne and set out to learn where the mare's talents lay. She had a soft mouth and a quiet demeanor with huge, bouncing strides, which opened up may possibilities. But after spooking at every jump and obstacle she came in contact with, Jack made the executive decision himself to focus on dressage with her-- a quiet, empty arena was the place for Cygne, and when you saw her go quietly around the ring, executing effortless half-passes and even flying lead changes after only a couple months undersaddle, no one could deny the dressage arena was where Cygne belonged.
URL |
Thumb |
|
|
Embed |
You did great!
thank you!
aahh i love your little stories, they give a lot of inside to the picture <3
Random titles ftw~