"Doth any here know me?"

Lear's trainer took him down to the park field to run out some of his beans, and she got some pretty shots of him that she's been kind enough to let me post. Check out those lovely TB legs, the glossy haunches, the big head, and his neck, which is still a bit scraggly. Note also that in neither photo are any of his feet touching the ground; when he's balanced, he can catch quite a bit of air. His canter (above) is a big steady rocking gait, and his suspended trot (below), which costs me pains to establish without cavaletti, is so springy that I squeaked the first time I got it.

What appear to be dapples on his dark sides are actually patches of dirt, from where he rolled ecstatically around after his first round of leaping about and farting with gleeful freedom. Our barn doesn't have enough turnout space, so the horses make the most of the time they've got in the big open areas. The joggers and cyclists who use the paths past this field often pull up a bench to watch, and lots of children want to get close, but the horses are so taken with the chance to run around that they don't make a beeline for the fence to beg for treats.

I briefly tried working with Doc in this field, but he associated it so strongly with playtime and the full gallop (not something I was comfortable indulging without a saddle under me) that I made it into a reward after trail work: We'd walk through the park to it, doing various maneuvers around trees and rocks, then I would let him graze and play silly buggers for a while. Then I'd rebridle him and scramble onto his back, and we'd return to the barn, with a thrilling bareback canter up the one real slope between the two. On summer evenings with the moon rising early and the bats flickering overhead, you couldn't believe you were in a city.