Yearling Gate Training

Though they'd been led in and back out of the gate multiple times, the yearlings - nearly two-year-olds, now - had never broken from the gate and reaped the spoils of loading well. After two months of hard work, Minske Mavecci was completely confident that they were all ready to take that next step. He'd probably even been overly cautious, waiting this long - however, this was the first group of yearlings that was completely under his hand as far as training, and he wanted to be sure to do things right before they were handed off to his father for their racing years. Minske had been watching and learning under his father for a lot of years, and he'd finally been given his chance. And he was glad it had come in the form of training the young horses - he thoroughly enjoyed working with them. Well, most of them. But he'd worry about that later.

Minske stood at the back of the gates while the first yearling was being warmed up a little further down the track. She was easy to spot on the turf track, even from a distance - the filly had greyed-out at an incredibly fast rate, and was already nearly white in coloring. She was gorgeous, even if her temperament left something to be desired. Her current rider seemed to be having no problems, though. Tigris was a fantastic rider, even though he'd started riding so late in life. He handled Fantasy Island with ease, not so much as flinching when she gave a buck or kick. He might not be the most graceful rider in the world, but it was undeniable that he got the job done, and done well. Minske turned to talk to Larsa, who had been partially in charge of these young horses up until now. He was helping in the form of releasing the gate - not the most glamorous job, but the man seemed to like it.

Eventually Tigris and Fanny made their way to the gate, and Minske could tell from the moment he saw the filly's eyes that she was in a mood. "What's got her rubbed raw?" he asked Tigris, careful to stand out of the way of the filly's mouth. Tigris shrugged, smoothing the hair of her mane. Fanny instantly lost her crazed look, raising her head to lean into the touch. Minske laughed, stepping forward. "Nevermind, then. Seems like she's only in a mood when she thinks it's time for you to get down." Until now, most of the gate training hadn't included rider's up, so he could understand the horse's confusion. She seemed to have an attachment to Tigris, though she didn't mind Minske much either. Hopefully that would help her trust them enough to get her past this milestone. "Alright, let's do this. They don't have to go fast today - the bells will get them to do that at an actual track. We just want them going forward." Tigris nodded, giving a mock-salute to his good friend. "Aye aye, Captain." Normally the two exercise-rode together, but in this instant, Minske was in charge. So of course Tigris had to tease him about it.

Minske took his place at the filly's head, holding the reins near her mouth. One of the stalls had the back doors open, ready for the filly to walk in. Two grooms were behind but standing back, there in case Minske ordered an extra shove and to close the doors behind her. As it was, Fanny looked at the gate with interest but no real anxiety. This part she was used to, even if there was a rider on her back now. Minske guided her into the stall, hopping up on the side and putting trainer, jockey, and horse in close proximity as the doors shut behind her. Minske flashed a small smile to Tigris, who returned the gesture before leaning over the filly's shoulders and wrapping his fingers in her mane for support. There was quiet for a moment, and Fanny acted like a pro, nibbling at Minske's fingers to pass the time. Tigris tightened the reins, and Fanny stopped, sensing that something was about to change. Every muscle was tense, breathing quiet, when...

The gates sprung open and Tigris gave a shout, signalling the filly to go. Fanny leaped forward a half-second later, seeming to not really know why it was happening but excited that she was able to break straight into a gallop nonetheless. Minske watched her go for a minute, then hopped out of the stall and grabbed his clipboard. Fantasy Island, no issues to report. He thought she's probably break sharper next time, since she knew what the goal was, but if not that wasn't a problem. She might just be a closer, like her sire. Putting the clip board down, he waited for the next yearling to draw up. With seven yearlings to get through, things would probably go fairly quickly from here.