Yearling Filly

I wrote this awhile ago and after coming across it last week, thought that I should share it for your amusement. There's some equestrian lingo that might be foreign for the non-horse people, but that's what I'm here for. Fire away.

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She’s a beautiful work of art, this one.

I was walking back from taking one of the horses to the turnout. Behind me, I could still hear him pounding the ground as the giant animal raced around as fast as he could in the not so large space when she came walking up to the fence. I had seen her eye us with those large doe eyes of her when I walked past her little pasture the first time with my charge, and a small, hopeful spark went on when I returned her gaze. She had trotted over to the fence alongside us, following as long as she could before turning back and walking away once we passed the entire length of the fence. I couldn’t see her when she followed since she was on the other side of the horse I was leading, but I could hear her.

Her pasture was one of the private ones, and definitely the nicest. It was one of the largest, and even had some grass growing in it. A sprinkler system had been installed to keep it growing, but coming from a place where we had acres and acres of green vegetation, I find it pathetic.

She watched me walking back towards her and walked up to the fence, towards the other end of her pasture. The path went a little closer there, so I wouldn’t be far. She knew that. She’s a smart little thing, this yearling filly. I didn’t plan on stopping for a chat, but she looked so hopeful that I couldn’t help it.

“Hey pretty girl.” I smiled as I walked up to the fence. Her eyes and ears perked up, and she reached her delicate little nose towards me as I stuck my hands through the fence.

Hello.

Even at just a little over a year, her baby awkwardness has all melted away, and she carries herself like a queen. I love watching her move. She does it with such ease, confidence and grace; even the baby fits of energy bucking and leaping are graceful. She has good, strong, long, solid legs, with an already well-muscled, high croup that looks out of place. She’ll grow into it though, it’s just part of growing up. Her front half is far more refined and delicate looking, but with those solid legs, she’ll definitely be a very pretty, fancy mare. I ran my hand down her face, brushing her soft, fuzzy nose with my fingertips. She quivered, ever so slightly, enjoying the attention. I cupped her muzzle in one palm, tracing the outline with my finger. She has a very pretty, refined head. A decently sized forehead, not too big, but not narrow either. It makes for a good, strong base, but with a delicate touch as it narrows down seamlessly and effortlessly into a long, slender muzzle perfectly flushed with a baby filly nose. Her nose is tiny, a lot like an Arabian’s, except it’s due to her still being a baby. I assume that as she gets older, her face will continue to mature naturally and she’ll lose some of the delicateness. But for now, her head is the epitome of what she is: small, sweet, beautiful, delicate and innocent.

“I think you should be a dressage horse. You look like one. If not, you’ll make a great children’s schoolmaster,” I told her as I scratched between her ears.

Really? She tipped an ear towards me as she stared at me unblinkingly, her baby eyes full of wonder and curiosity. If I had to describe her in one word, it would be feminine. Everything about her is pretty, from her little hooves, the long lashes, to her quiet, gentle personality. Fillies are known for being living, breathing, kicking nightmares, but not this one.

“Gotta go.” I drew my hand back, then spontaneously leaned forward a little and touched a quick kiss to her soft nose. Her ears perked up and her liquid brown eyes brightened even more in surprise, but she didn’t move or pull away. I smiled and walked away as she followed me as far as her pasture went. Anyone who ends up with this one is going to be one lucky person, so they’d better treat her well.