[Penultima]

Entry post
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Owner: Penultima
Reg. No. : #817138
Registered Name: Comanche
Age: 8 years
Breed: Mustang
Color: Dunskin incomplete tobiano (E/e, A/a, Cr/cr, D/d and Tob/tob)
Gender: Gelding (1 breeding)
Markings: Primitive dun markings and incomplete tobiano markings (only stocking visible)
Height: 13.3hh
Vice/Fear/Special: Despite growing up in the wild, this guys appears to be quite a fussy eater. It appears since his capture and change to a more 'sugary' diet (i.e. more fruit and the occasional mints), he seems to leave his hay in favour of sweeter things...

Trainer: Jordan Skye Herrington

[Penultima]

First encounter~


Jordan leaned on the fence, arms crossed.
The sandy gelding trotted another circle. He snorted and bolted in the other direction, sliding to a halt on the other end of the holding pen. He didn't seem to understand what the metal beams in his way were, and became increasingly frustrated at his inability to escape them.
He stood a moment, huffing in the hot summer heat. His thin sides showed every rib beneath his skin. The man whistled, and the gelding spooked, ears pricked as far forward at the man and watching warily.
Jordan chuckled. He had his work cut out for him.

[Penultima]

Trailer Loading~


The gelding snorted violently, pinning his ear back. He threw his head up, eyes rolling and lips foaming.
The surrounding crowd sighed in exasperation. Jordan twirled the lunge whip behind the buckskin horse, clucking while his sister held the trailer gate open. Jordan's younger sister stood inside, cooing and shaking a grain scoop tantalizingly.
The mustang pranced around the corral, and reared again. He swished his tail angrily.
"Melanie, step outside a moment and pour the grain on the trailer floor" Jordan instructed.
The youngest sister obeyed, locking the side door behind her.
After ten more minutes of shooing, the gelding finally leaped into the trailer, Ashten quickly closing the metal doors behind him.
The family breathed a sigh of relief.

[Penultima]

Picky Eater~


"C'mon, be a good boy now."
Ever since they unloaded him from the traumatic trailer ride to the ranch, the gelding had been sulking in the corner of his stall, turning his back on any type of hay tossed into the feeder.
Jordan pulled out the second cutting and threw in a bale of first cutting alfalfa. The gelding, stubborn as ever, turned away.
"How am I supposed to put weight on you?" The man grumbled.

[Penultima]

Scary Red Thing~


The mustang was still barely eating. Jordan looked sadly at his visibly showing ribcage. Was something wrong? Should he be taken to the vet?
Well, before anything could be done, he needed to be halter broke. Easy task, right?
Nope.
As soon as the halter was buckled on the sleepy, unsuspecting gelding, he snorted, bucked, scratched, ANYTHING to get the nasty thing unstuck from his face. The horse was frantic all evening.
Why did I choose a red colored halter of all things? Jordan wondered.