Lovely day. Sun shone; the herd gambolled; all my bets bolted up at the races. Red and I had a pretty wild ride through the stubble, which is where I am convinced she is convinced the mountain lions live. There was one spectacular wig-out. At this point, I always have a choice: take her back to the quiet paddock for schooling, or press on.
I pressed on. Two more laps of the golden fields, and I had convinced her that I was damn well on predator alert and nothing was going to come and get her. In return, she consented to walk calmly on a loose rein. We did one floating half-speed gallop up the hill, and then I mooched her home. It’s vulgar to say so, but I felt incredibly proud of us both. We faced down those mountain lions, even though they only exist in our heads.
Then the darling filly Mince put her brave head in front in the 3.05 and poor William Hill got such a shock from my enormous bet that its website stopped working. Mince has lately been breaking track records for fun. Today, she was on ground softer than she liked and she had to dig deep. It’s always a lovely sight to watch the really classy fillies show they have guts and heart as well as talent. So now my throat is hoarse from shouting and The Pigeon is exhausted from leaping up and down like a cartoon dog, which is what she does in a close finish.
Here are the pictures of the day:
The little herd:
Red doing Minnie the Moocher, just as if she had never freaked out in a stubble field in her life:
Pigeon, doing her dignity on the monument face:
Hill, with added sheep: