by landofmakebelieve » Fri Mar 06, 2015 2:12 pm
Pgmhhfhhfdfh....
Username: piaffes in the snow
Name: Nature's Finest "Adimar" Meaning:: He whose scars define him.
Gender: Stallion
Favorite treat: Homemade Applesnaps
Heart warming story: At three days old, Adimar had already had a rough enough go at life. On his first day of life, he lost his twin sister, who had to be pulled by the vet. His sister had struggled, and so had his mother, but a backwards foal just isn't going to come naturally. On his second day, he lost his mother, who had torn her uterus trying to push out her backwards filly. Now, on his third day, the colt was going out to the paddock to meet the other foals. Adimar stepped slowly. Cautiously. Afraid that something might happen to him next. When he got out to the paddock, he was rushed by the group of foals, all much bigger than him. He took a step back, cowering against the fence. A big bay colt (who seemed to thunk he was the leader of this small band) stepped forward and harshly nipped Adimar's shoulder. Ouch! The tiny colt squealed in confusion and pain. Why had he done this him? The other colt, seemed to look smugly at hhis herd and snort, as if to say, "Well, guess we got a game for today!" Just then, Adimar broke into a clumsy gallop along the fenceline where there was a gap for escape. Unforunately, the other foals were older, and much nimbler on their feet. They chased the stumbling foal through the field, occasionally nipping his rump, but he never dared kick, for fear he provoked something worse. Eventually, the 'herd' had managed to corner Adimar, and they were beginning to nip and tug on his ears when a sorrel filly rammed up to the front of the crowd. She was a rather tomboy-ish filly, and roughly shoved, nipped and kicked the colts back. She squealed angrilly at them, stomping her hooves. For a moment, the big bay colt challenged her, until she reared up, narrowlly missing his head.Wip
Last edited by
landofmakebelieve on Fri Mar 06, 2015 2:37 pm, edited 1 time in total.
hello, bonjour
please call me believe
herro der mes amis, i am believe. proud canadian, ottb loving, colt breaking, nfr dreaming. pictured on the left is my racetrack reject, landofmakebelieve, aka molly, moo, shmoo, whatever name comes to mind x] molly is a 10 year old canadian bred thoroughbred mare, and standing at about 16.2hh, we look a little wonky when we chase cans, but la dee da that's alright. molly and i tried several disciplines. i tried desperately to get her to catch on to dressage, but unfortunately, she still has the race bred mind and is all go. however, together we found a discipline which we could both enjoy; western gaming. this summer we started travelling to barrel races locally. our current record on a standard size pattern is 17.314 and we are improving with every run. and to all the low budget barrel racers out there such as myself, a word of advise; chin up darling. you may not have a million dollar mount under your butt, but you and your crossbred, rejected, hard headed, rescue baby can do it. you know why? cause those girls sitting in their custom circle y's, upon shiny, top of the line mounts are full of themselves. they think there's no way they can lose. they get cocky. stay humble, believe in yourself, in your horse, and most importantly ride your little heart out.
