Finding Talent (1)

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

"Yes! It fits," the halter I bought Jazz is perfect. "OK buddy. I'm going to bring in your new friends alright?" I take off the halter, and hang it on a hook outside his stall. Then I head into the dusty tack room to grab five other halters. "let's see... green for Rain, red for Jay, purple for Breezy, pink for Trika and multi-coloured for Moon." I grab all the halters and lead ropes (all my lead ropes are red), and head out to the field.

Trika is the first to see me, and she canters up to the gate, which I open and enter the paddock.

"Hey baby," I croon, slipping the pink halter over her nose, and ears doing up the clip where you might do up the throat lash on a bridle, "good girl. Come on you guys!" I yell at the others. Breezy looks up, and trots over, followed by Jay. I halter them, and wait for Moon and Rain. They are both getting older, and they amble over, not in a hurry. Once all the horses are haltered, I lead them into the stable, two at a time, until they are all in their stalls.

Jazz whinnies excitedly at the arrival of his new stable mates. They look excited as well. They have't seen any new horses really since Trika.

"Everybody... meet Jazz. Jazz meet... everybody else," i feel stupid and akwardish introducing the horses to one another, so I hurry off to the feed room to get the food ready. 10 Ibs of hay for each horse except for Trika, who gets seven. A scoop of pro-form complete grain for each, 50 ML of minerals and a yogurt container full of thoroughly soaked beet pulp for each.

It is so important to soak beet pulp at least 12 Hours before you give it to your horse, because it expands when it gets wet. So, if you give it to them dry, it expands in their stomach or their throat when they eat it, and it can actually suffocate them or get stuck in the intestines. If this happens, and no one is aware of it, the horse will most likely die. So I always make sure my beet pulp is as soaked as possible before feeding. I'd hate to lose one of my precious horses.

Leaving them to their dinner, I go into my house to prepare my own. Boil some potatoes... some leftover salad and chicken... it makes a decent meal. I settle down on the couch, deciding to eat and watch TV, for another semi-lonely night. Most people should think I have a boyfriend... I am 19 after all! But I think that a boyfriend would distract me from my training. I can't risk it.

Not much is on TV. A few reality shows which I find funny, but incredibly stupid, so I turn it off and put in a movie instead. It's Hidalgo, one of my favorite's. I eat as I watch, remembering the time I first saw this with my parents. It was here... on this same couch.

Just as Frank starts to feverishly debate on whether he should put a bullet in Hidalgo's pretty paint mustang head, I switch off the TV. I'm tired, and want to to work with Jazz a little more tomorrow.

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When Jazz is tacked up, I lead him out to the arena as I did yesterday, and hop onto his back. I tell him to "Move On", and he starts walking around the arena at a slow and leisurely pace. I want to get him trotting, so I give him a tap with my heels, but nothing happens.

"Really? Your seriously only trained to voice commands? How on earth am I supposed to figure out how to aid you then?" I start asking him, then stop because I know he can't answer me even though I wish he could, "hmmm... let's see. For a trot is it... step up maybe?" my answer is a smooth transition into an equally smooth and floating trot. I trot him for three laps of the arena, then turn him, and ask him to walk "we are defiantly making progress, Jazzy horse." I say, and lead him back to the stables to untack him, after cooling him out.

I decide that I should lunge Trika for a little bit. I haven't worked with her for a long time. I grab her hot pink halter, and walk into her stall.

"How are ya Trickster?" I ask her, giving her muscled neck a loving pet, and then rubbing her on her poll. After I halter her, I smooth out her ever tangly forelock, and lead her out to the sandy lunging pen. I unclip her lunge line, deciding to free lunge her today. I cluck to her and flick my blue lunge whip, sending her out to the fence "walk on!" I call, and Trika starts to walk in fast and springy strides, "good girl," I call, and flick the whip again, sending her off into a trot.

Trika takes short, jumpy steps when she trots. Her long chestnut tail streams out behind her like a birthday banner, her eyes are as bright as candles, her hoofs black and hard. Her one sock, glowing glowing pearly white. She really is beautiful, with her dished face and slender legs, making her look more like an Arab than a quarter horse.

I cluck again, sending her into a lope. She covers ground quickly, with her earth eating stride. For a yearling, she's strong, fast and a little stubborn.

"And walk..." I say softly, letting her drop to a leisurely walk, "that's a girl, now whoa...," Trika comes over to me and stops. I give her a rub on her withers, then let her be. That's the best way to praise a horse... just let then be after they have worked. It lets them know that they have done what you want, and that they can now rest. Why would you give them a "hearty slap on the neck?". That's like someone coming over to you and hitting you after you get strait A's. Not fun, not enjoyable, and defiantly doesn't let you know you've done a good job!

I send her out again, at a trot. I become mesmerized, watching her. How can some people not want to touch, ride, be with such amazing animals? I step closer to her butt, and switch my lunge whip to my other hand, and flick it. Trika stops, then turns and regains her gorgeous, flowing stride.

AN: More editing done!:) Fan, Comment, Vote, criticize!!!!!!!!!!

-Bella and Moon.