Last Saturday, we went to the track.  It’s something I love to do though I seldom get the opportunity.

The racecourse is called Jarlsberg, though there’s no obvious connection with the cheese. Actually, we didn’t go to a race, but to a horse show.  Young horses were being judged on  their appearance, particularly their legs, and on their gaits.

This kind of thing is very important for breeders because the appraisal affects the value of the horse.

There were lots of different kinds of  horse.  The ones above and below are Welsh cobs.  The lower one had her foal with her (they weren’t for sale).

She got very high marks.  Here they are posing with their owner.  They departed later in the space craft.

I saw several foals.  These are curly horses; they are hypoallergenic.

And there were Shetland ponies no bigger than large dogs.  The man in the bowler hat and carrying a riding crop was a judge.

A judge of horses, that is.  I thought they were an unlikely-looking group, the judges.  Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? well, they didn’t give a good overall impression. They had bad posture and gaits, their coats weren’t shiny, and I wasn’t enthusiastic about their legs.  Some had put in no effort at all.

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