Post by Andie Simone on Nov 6, 2013 17:57:18 GMT -8
Andie lovingly ran a baby soft brush over her mare's dappled coat. "You are getting kinda tubby." She said as she ran her hand tenderly over the mare's growing belly. "That's a good thing though." She had bred the mare to the Academy's Thoroughbred gelding, Dunked, not long after she had taken up the job here and the maiden mare seemed to be going well so far.
After putting on the mare's snaffle bridle, Andie led Dove out to the arena and used the mounting block to get onto the mare's back. She liked the fact that the mounting block in this arena, at it's tallest bit, put her at a height where she could pretty much sit sideways on the horse and then just lift her leg over. There was no need for her to do any jumping and no chance of irritating the mare by jabbing her in her growing belly. "Walk on, my beauty." She whispered as she took up the reins. She wasn't going to do any more than walking, possibly a gentle trot - if she thought the mare was up to it. Something that she could easily have done on foot, but she knew that there was no harm in riding the mare while she was pregnant, and she didn't have a saddle on.
She often found herself wondering what the foal was going to look like. What colour would the foal be? Both Dove and the stallion were dappled grey, but neither had been born grey, so it would be like guessing the lottery numbers to work out what colour the foal would or wouldn't be. She hadn't looked too far into Dove's pedigree to know if she there was any chance of her throwing a coloured (piebald or skewbald) foal, nor had she asked about Dunked.
After putting on the mare's snaffle bridle, Andie led Dove out to the arena and used the mounting block to get onto the mare's back. She liked the fact that the mounting block in this arena, at it's tallest bit, put her at a height where she could pretty much sit sideways on the horse and then just lift her leg over. There was no need for her to do any jumping and no chance of irritating the mare by jabbing her in her growing belly. "Walk on, my beauty." She whispered as she took up the reins. She wasn't going to do any more than walking, possibly a gentle trot - if she thought the mare was up to it. Something that she could easily have done on foot, but she knew that there was no harm in riding the mare while she was pregnant, and she didn't have a saddle on.
She often found herself wondering what the foal was going to look like. What colour would the foal be? Both Dove and the stallion were dappled grey, but neither had been born grey, so it would be like guessing the lottery numbers to work out what colour the foal would or wouldn't be. She hadn't looked too far into Dove's pedigree to know if she there was any chance of her throwing a coloured (piebald or skewbald) foal, nor had she asked about Dunked.