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Description
A new WIP style cause i'm lazy ^^

Well this is our first attempt at training Catch - he's only 2, and not broken in, but has been fine with Grant getting on his back so he took him in the school the other day and introduced him to the poles...

Don't comment that I forgot his markings...

Grant sat quietly astride the young, mahogany stallion as they walked at a leisurely pace around the sand school.
It was a quiet day; someone was jumping Sky over in the other school, and Catch pricked his ears every time the older stallion gave an ‘oomph’ when he landed, or to the sound of thundering hooves as Rubie and Juliette raced down the side of their paddock.
Catch was about 2½ now, although he looked much like a four-year-old with a long, muscular neck, strong shoulders, and hindquarters, and had lost that lankiness that most horses his age had. Grant positively felt proud to be sitting on this marvelous horse – son of a legend in his own, DD Catcher in the Rye. Grant had broken him in him self – or, had at least taught him all he knew. It was barely three weeks ago that he had introduced the colt to the bridle and the bit, yet daren't put a saddle on his back, since Catch had enough of a reputation of making a huge fuss about nothing.
They pair circled the arena twice in walk, twice in trot, and then broke into a canter in one of the corners. Catch’s strides melted together beautifully as he paraded forward with the lankiness of his age, yet still looked beautiful as he threw his forehooves down and kicked his hind hoof out in excitement. Grant gave him a little pat and urged him on so the colt was moving smoothly around the track again.
“Looking good!” Frankie yelled from the side and, remarkably, Catch didn’t spook. Grant felt inwardly pleased, and held the reins firmly as he pushed the colt on again, stretching out his stride as much as the young horse could understand at that point. “Loosen the reins, Grant! He doesn’t need the weight of the world on his tongue!!”
Grant groaned, letting Catch’s head down a little more, and he flicked his tail a little, snorting as his rider turned him with his legs into a large, circle that turned into an oval soon after.
“Don’t let him do that! Do it again!” Frankie growled, and Grant suddenly regretted using the main school for riding; he should’ve anticipated an audience. However, he did what was asked of him, and this time, Catch did a near-perfect circle, although his ears were flickering back a little and he pulled harder at the reins, obviously not liking the new style of riding that made him repeat movements.
“Shh, Catchy,” Grant hushed, and the colt settled down as he was slowed into a trot and then a walk again, and his head was released to touch his hooves and stretch out.
“You doing poles yet?”
Grant’s head whipped around and saw Frankie walking into the arena, looking intrigued. “No, Sir.”
“Any Dressage movements?”
“Circles and diagonals... that’s about it.”
“Collection? Extension?”
“As much as he can understand...”
“How long’ve you been riding him?”
“Two and a half weeks.” Grant said quietly, not sure what reaction to expect from the trainer who was now scrutinizing the young horse that stood in front of him, who, as well, was not quite sure what to make of Frankie.
“I say good job so far.”
Grant let out his breath and let a tiny fraction of his grin show. “Thanks, Sir.”
“You’ve gotta get his movement under control though! His strides are uneven, he doesn’t have much rhythm, and you’re holding him too tightly...” He paused. “But... remarkably, he looks very good for being so green.”
Praise had been the last thing Grant had expected, but he glowed with pride and patted Catch’s neck firmly; the colt gave a little squeal of pleasure.
“Right, I'll get some poles; we’ll sort out his strides right now,”
Grant noticed how Frankie’s voice had softened from the harshness he used when training with Kalib and Blackbird, or Malibu, or Sky, or any of the other high-level horses. Yet realized that that was because they were high-level, he didn’t need to be compassionate with horses who could do so much better, and this was how he acted with young horses, a soft, kind and compassionate Frankie. Which was odd...

Five minutes later, Frankie had pulled out six of the blue striped poles, but had only laid down one in the centre of the school. Grant had Catch trotting around the perimeter of the arena, but the colt’s ears were trained on the pool, and he was letting out stuttered whinnies of excitement at the new object.
“A’right, bring him round in canter,” Frankie said in a soft voice, and Grant obeyed, pushing Catch into a soft, flowing canter, and rounding onto the centre-line towards it.
The colt pulled back onto his haunches as he was presented with the pole, which he’d only seen from the side and from a distance, and, just as he came within a foot of it, threw his forehooves out in front of him and skidded to a stop. Grant was left sitting bewildered on his back, the reins slack, eyes wide in shock and sudden fear as the colt bounced to his hooves.
“Shh—” Grant began, but Catch had collected himself, and sprung near vertically over the pole.
He sprung with wide, scared eyes in a high arch that would’ve cleared a six-bar oxer.
“Holy…” Frankie began, but the words were sapped from his mouth as he watched the young horse soar well over the pole and landed gracefully on the other side, and, with a flick of his tail, promptly bucked, sending a bemused Grant off into the sand.

Art + Beaumont Stables ©: =Baringa-of-the-Wind

I do not appreciate critique unless I request it!
Please keep your own opinions to yourself unless I ask for it - I will not be happy to hear you bashing my work.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's forbidden to copy, transmit, distribute, display, reproduce, sell, heavily reference, claim, trace, reuse, license or anything else, without my written permission, capiche? All rights are reserved!

Description
A new WIP style cause i'm lazy ^^

Well this is our first attempt at training Catch - he's only 2, and not broken in, but has been fine with Grant getting on his back so he took him in the school the other day and introduced him to the poles...

Don't comment that I forgot his markings...

Grant sat quietly astride the young, mahogany stallion as they walked at a leisurely pace around the sand school.
It was a quiet day; someone was jumping Sky over in the other school, and Catch pricked his ears every time the older stallion gave an ‘oomph’ when he landed, or to the sound of thundering hooves as Rubie and Juliette raced down the side of their paddock.
Catch was about 2½ now, although he looked much like a four-year-old with a long, muscular neck, strong shoulders, and hindquarters, and had lost that lankiness that most horses his age had. Grant positively felt proud to be sitting on this marvelous horse – son of a legend in his own, DD Catcher in the Rye. Grant had broken him in him self – or, had at least taught him all he knew. It was barely three weeks ago that he had introduced the colt to the bridle and the bit, yet daren't put a saddle on his back, since Catch had enough of a reputation of making a huge fuss about nothing.
They pair circled the arena twice in walk, twice in trot, and then broke into a canter in one of the corners. Catch’s strides melted together beautifully as he paraded forward with the lankiness of his age, yet still looked beautiful as he threw his forehooves down and kicked his hind hoof out in excitement. Grant gave him a little pat and urged him on so the colt was moving smoothly around the track again.
“Looking good!” Frankie yelled from the side and, remarkably, Catch didn’t spook. Grant felt inwardly pleased, and held the reins firmly as he pushed the colt on again, stretching out his stride as much as the young horse could understand at that point. “Loosen the reins, Grant! He doesn’t need the weight of the world on his tongue!!”
Grant groaned, letting Catch’s head down a little more, and he flicked his tail a little, snorting as his rider turned him with his legs into a large, circle that turned into an oval soon after.
“Don’t let him do that! Do it again!” Frankie growled, and Grant suddenly regretted using the main school for riding; he should’ve anticipated an audience. However, he did what was asked of him, and this time, Catch did a near-perfect circle, although his ears were flickering back a little and he pulled harder at the reins, obviously not liking the new style of riding that made him repeat movements.
“Shh, Catchy,” Grant hushed, and the colt settled down as he was slowed into a trot and then a walk again, and his head was released to touch his hooves and stretch out.
“You doing poles yet?”
Grant’s head whipped around and saw Frankie walking into the arena, looking intrigued. “No, Sir.”
“Any Dressage movements?”
“Circles and diagonals... that’s about it.”
“Collection? Extension?”
“As much as he can understand...”
“How long’ve you been riding him?”
“Two and a half weeks.” Grant said quietly, not sure what reaction to expect from the trainer who was now scrutinizing the young horse that stood in front of him, who, as well, was not quite sure what to make of Frankie.
“I say good job so far.”
Grant let out his breath and let a tiny fraction of his grin show. “Thanks, Sir.”
“You’ve gotta get his movement under control though! His strides are uneven, he doesn’t have much rhythm, and you’re holding him too tightly...” He paused. “But... remarkably, he looks very good for being so green.”
Praise had been the last thing Grant had expected, but he glowed with pride and patted Catch’s neck firmly; the colt gave a little squeal of pleasure.
“Right, I'll get some poles; we’ll sort out his strides right now,”
Grant noticed how Frankie’s voice had softened from the harshness he used when training with Kalib and Blackbird, or Malibu, or Sky, or any of the other high-level horses. Yet realized that that was because they were high-level, he didn’t need to be compassionate with horses who could do so much better, and this was how he acted with young horses, a soft, kind and compassionate Frankie. Which was odd...

Five minutes later, Frankie had pulled out six of the blue striped poles, but had only laid down one in the centre of the school. Grant had Catch trotting around the perimeter of the arena, but the colt’s ears were trained on the pool, and he was letting out stuttered whinnies of excitement at the new object.
“A’right, bring him round in canter,” Frankie said in a soft voice, and Grant obeyed, pushing Catch into a soft, flowing canter, and rounding onto the centre-line towards it.
The colt pulled back onto his haunches as he was presented with the pole, which he’d only seen from the side and from a distance, and, just as he came within a foot of it, threw his forehooves out in front of him and skidded to a stop. Grant was left sitting bewildered on his back, the reins slack, eyes wide in shock and sudden fear as the colt bounced to his hooves.
“Shh—” Grant began, but Catch had collected himself, and sprung near vertically over the pole.
He sprung with wide, scared eyes in a high arch that would’ve cleared a six-bar oxer.
“Holy…” Frankie began, but the words were sapped from his mouth as he watched the young horse soar well over the pole and landed gracefully on the other side, and, with a flick of his tail, promptly bucked, sending a bemused Grant off into the sand.

Art + Beaumont Stables ©: =Baringa-of-the-Wind

I do not appreciate critique unless I request it!
Please keep your own opinions to yourself unless I ask for it - I will not be happy to hear you bashing my work.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's forbidden to copy, transmit, distribute, display, reproduce, sell, heavily reference, claim, trace, reuse, license or anything else, without my written permission, capiche? All rights are reserved!