sparkyy

[Snowflake]

The frisky two year old tossed his head playfully as he trod lightly on the firm dirt. I kept him in hand, urging him into trot as we warmed up on the outer rail. I sighed contentedly without letting my guard down. I had been back in the saddle for almost a week now, and I couldn't be happier. I took my left hand off the reins for barely a second to flex my wrist, picking up the slack instantaneously with my right hand.

Placing my left hand back on the reins, I guided the colt around the first of two turns, keeping my contact with his mouth both soft and firm at the same time. We warmed up this way, trotting one lap of the six furlong dirt track, then cantering a lap, then we would work a quarter mile.

Super Sparky was still highly interested in the surroundings, I noticed with intrigue. Even though we had bought him privately from a stable that went bankrupt last week and he had been on the track with me probably about ten times already. I had walked him while I couldn;t ride, longing to get up there on his back. While Davo was usually our sprinter jockey, Sparky had made it clear he didn't like Davo in the slightest and wouldn't behave for anyone but me. I was intrigued, this year's two year old crop absolutely adored me.

The bright chestnut's ears flicked this way and that, listening to the sounds of the early morning activity at the stables. His trotting stride was not what I would call smooth - but he had a rocking horse canter and a gallop that felt like he didn't touch the ground. His conformation was beautiful - he had big, well rounded hind quarters and perfect, sloping shulders along with a deep chest that had plenty of room for a big heart and lungs. His legs weren't long, but they were in great proportion with the rest of his body. Sparky's bright chestnut colouring with one pure white sock and a sparkling white stripe made him one of the most beautiful horses I had ever seen - but it was his personality that made him stand out.

He was a highly intelligent colt, with a mischievious mind that was great for plotting his race plan and his practical jokes. I had already had the pleasure of having to catch the colt at two in the morning when he escaped from his stall. And the bolt on the stall was usually horse proof - so I really don't know how he got out. I just remember how gleeful he had looked when we had had to chase him all over the stable yard. Fortunately, the barns were fenced off from the rest of the property and Sparky could fortunately not open the gate.

I pressed him now into gallop, delighted at how smooth and even it was, not to mention effortless. He really was a talented colt with plenty of potential, especially to be a sprinter. I'd galloped him for the first time two days after he had been brought to GHS, and he had been simply amazing! It was usually quite rare to find a horse like this. We galloped a lap without mishap; then I urged him to really run, just to get his blood pumping, to see what he had to give. Instantly Sparky switched gears and roared into racing speed, lengthening his stride and thrusting his long neck forward with each one for added power balance. I gave him more rein, excitement flooding me as I felt him go even faster. Four furlongs later, I decided he'd had enough work for one day and slowed him up. He tossed his head in annoyance and kept going a bit longer; but my continual tightening the reins and pulling on the neckstrap, combined with standing and leaning back forced him to slow down enough for me to turn him in a wide circle and bring him down to trot.

Good boy! I praised, petting his sweat darkened neck as I rode him off the dirt. That was great!

finished