An entry for the DCH show with my gelding Malachi. The jump's kinda ugly, but I added the halter & wraps, too, and I'm happy with those c:
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Malachi whinnies and shakes his braided mane as I wrap my fingers into his leather reins, my breath escaping in cold white puffs. The air is filled with a palpable tension.
We have prepared for this moment for months, starting with the first jump he ever completed, just over two years ago. It had been a simple cross rail, painted in bright, colorful stripes. He had confidently trotted over the rail, kicking his hind legs up high as he landed, dust clouding around his tiny hooves as I squealed with excitement. His natural talent for jumping had been evident, with his confident swish of the tail and eager canter towards the jump, ending with a perfect landing. I had been so proud of him. Shortly after I had begun riding him over jumps, but that first jump, accompanied only with a small halter, wraps, and a lead line, was the most exciting moment of his life. Until now.
Here we are two years later. Preparation had begun a day before, with a mane clipping, a bath, and braiding. His long, black tail had been carefully conditioned and put into neat braids, his flashy coat had been groomed until it shone. His hooves had been picked and polished, his saddle pad washed and his tack cleaned. My beautiful stallion had suspected something was up, but it wasn't until early this morning when I had woken him and prepped him for shipping that he had really gotten excited. Once his shipping tack was on and his competition trunk loaded into the trunk, I had patted him goodbye and loaded him into the trailer.
The ride to the competition grounds was uneventful. When we arrived, Malachi was a bit overwhelmed by the enormous number of horses and riders swarming the stables and arena, but a small number of carrots and kind words kept him focused. I checked us in and groomed him once more before tacking Malachi and leading him into the warm up ring. It was quite busy, and I trotted him in several laps before taking him over a small cavaletti. Once his muscles seemed warm and supple, I patted his neck and walked him out, making sure that he was centered on the bit and his gaits were smooth. Malachi was confident and happy as I dismounted and walked him circles, checking his legs for any lameness. He passed the exam with flying colors, and I led him towards the arena's entrance.
He was excited and eager as the lead judge called us into the arena. Taking a deep breath, I patted his neck and whispered, "Let's do this," as I squeezed his sides, urging him into the arena. This was our time to shine.
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Malachi whinnies and shakes his braided mane as I wrap my fingers into his leather reins, my breath escaping in cold white puffs. The air is filled with a palpable tension.
We have prepared for this moment for months, starting with the first jump he ever completed, just over two years ago. It had been a simple cross rail, painted in bright, colorful stripes. He had confidently trotted over the rail, kicking his hind legs up high as he landed, dust clouding around his tiny hooves as I squealed with excitement. His natural talent for jumping had been evident, with his confident swish of the tail and eager canter towards the jump, ending with a perfect landing. I had been so proud of him. Shortly after I had begun riding him over jumps, but that first jump, accompanied only with a small halter, wraps, and a lead line, was the most exciting moment of his life. Until now.
Here we are two years later. Preparation had begun a day before, with a mane clipping, a bath, and braiding. His long, black tail had been carefully conditioned and put into neat braids, his flashy coat had been groomed until it shone. His hooves had been picked and polished, his saddle pad washed and his tack cleaned. My beautiful stallion had suspected something was up, but it wasn't until early this morning when I had woken him and prepped him for shipping that he had really gotten excited. Once his shipping tack was on and his competition trunk loaded into the trunk, I had patted him goodbye and loaded him into the trailer.
The ride to the competition grounds was uneventful. When we arrived, Malachi was a bit overwhelmed by the enormous number of horses and riders swarming the stables and arena, but a small number of carrots and kind words kept him focused. I checked us in and groomed him once more before tacking Malachi and leading him into the warm up ring. It was quite busy, and I trotted him in several laps before taking him over a small cavaletti. Once his muscles seemed warm and supple, I patted his neck and walked him out, making sure that he was centered on the bit and his gaits were smooth. Malachi was confident and happy as I dismounted and walked him circles, checking his legs for any lameness. He passed the exam with flying colors, and I led him towards the arena's entrance.
He was excited and eager as the lead judge called us into the arena. Taking a deep breath, I patted his neck and whispered, "Let's do this," as I squeezed his sides, urging him into the arena. This was our time to shine.
