v i n d i c t i v e FURY

[Snowflake]

I trudged through the mud born from last night's downpour, swinging a leadrope in my hands as I made my way to the yearling paddock. As I rounded the corner and into view of the large field, I saw Vindictive Fury once again letting the other colts and fillies know who was boss. She was nippng them sharply, chasing them out of her "personal space". We had first noticed Vinny liked to have her own personal space back when she was just over a month old. It was an astonishing discovery; an interesting way to spend all the spare time I had. Vinny always violently kept the other colts and fillies at least three metres away from her and her legendary ex racehorse dam, Rising Fury. Now she was bigger, Vinny liked a five metre radius of her own space.

I grinned as I remembered Vinny's reaction to being weaned. The filly had been even more aggressive than usual, attacking GHS's staff as they handled her, even as they walked past her stall. She even seemed to hate me, though I knew it was all pretence. It was a love-hate relationship.

Vinny! I called out, keeping the lead out of sight behind my back. I held out a quarter of a bright orange carrot. The filly's head shot up, her wild eyes searching for me in the direction of my, and her nostrils flared, taking in the delicious scent of fresh carrot. She let out a shrill angry squeal as Bank On Greatness rushed forward delightedly, making his speedy way for the carrot, and took off after the colt, tearing up the turf as she went. She skidded to a stop at the fence, a split second behind Greatness.

Hey, buddy. I greeted the handsome full brother to Impressario. The colt whuffled gently as he gobbled down the carrot, and Vinny pinned her ears at him, letting out another shrill squeal. He seemed to roll his eyes then, trotting off a little further up the fence as Sarah came down to greet him.
I returned my attention to Vinny, who had an incredulous, indignant look on her face. I grinned, holding out the carrot. She snatched it off me, but not before I, quick as lightining, clipped the lead to her white halter.

Gotcha. The dark brown filly gave me an icy look, but I knew she was secretly glad to be caught - it meant treats and training. At just fourteen months old, Vindictive Fury was already fifteen hands high. She was taller than any other filly at this age that we'd ever had, so we knew she would be big. She was quick and nimble footed; with the same heart her mother, Rising Fury, had had, so we knew she would be a winner.

I opened the gate wide enough to lead her out, keeping an eye on the other babies. Vinny darted through, yanking me a little, stopping just long enough for me to lock the gate again. Then we were off, with the spirited filly trotting at my side, tugging me along a little. Needless to say. Vinny was very headstrong and really needed a little strength in her handler. Fortunately, as a jockey, I was strong enough.

We headed to the round pen, where we would spend 20 minutes lunging, then another twenty minutes of breaking her in. Once inside the pen, I retrieved the long lunging line, which was hanging on a hook on the fence, and attached it to her halter. Clucking, I got her to first walk in circles around me in both directions. Vinny was quite cooperative when it came to lunging; I guessed because she had a little more room to move than she did when being handled with a lead rope. Man, I couldn't wait to get on that filly's back.

After a few minutes, I clucked again, sending her into trot.