Every TB I have ever had, no matter how quiet and layed back, has on occasion reminded me that they are the definition of 'hot blood.'
Nina picked today. Nearly ran over me twice, pulled back while being tacked up, but miraculously stopped before throwing my saddle (not yet girthed up) in the mud.
Zoomed around the round pen. I decided that this was too much pent up energy for a round pen and turned her out. She ran as fast as the space would allow (she has not yet hit her stride when it is time to slow down and turn), bucked HARD, spooked at every whisper of sound, every movement.
Tried to be 18h tall.
Having a party in her mind. Meanwhile the rest of us were slogging around in slow motion in the heat.
She is a TB, and becoming a fit one!
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