It is full moon tonight and the sky is crystal clear. Thermo t-shirt, cotton-shirt, sweater and wool-lined denim jacket because it is below zero. The grass is whispering under my boots and the inhaled air cuts through my nose.
In the afternoon I cleaned Arabella and apparently she has been waiting since; she comes running as soon as she realises I carry a rope with me. A hug, the rope looped round her neck and with both ends in my hand we walk to the saddle room.

Saddling is a cinch, she sticks her head through the neck ring, I top myself with my red hat and we are all ready to go.
Because she is so eager to please I want to reward Arabella. As a change for Capricho I had put course bix in my pocket, forgotten about them but she profoundly dislikes those: stupid of me. She starts to take a pellet, realises what it is, softly takes a finger between her teeth and squeezes... hárd. 'Ok, I get it, sorry!' and she relaxes.
'Turn' so I can get on from the high side of the incline and off we go.

The moon is already high in the sky and there is little light pollution here in the campo. Not in the least because everybody is already sleeping, so deep in the night, and all the lights are turned out. Even with my human eyes I can see where we are going. Straight from the yard I cross the field because that is safer than the alternative 50 metres of provincial road: Arabella has perfect night vision and I can trust her to avoid the ditches, rocks and holes. I navigate, she drives: Homo caballus on the way.
About 10 kilometres further up in the valley and some 40 metres higher there is a rocky outcrop with a 360 degree unobstructed view. We know the route so even though the terrain is quite rugged we can ride at a good pace. Arabella is very keen but also experienced enough to know we will have to go back as well.

Quite remarkably she is more composed at night then during daylight hours. She is alert; the more so because she is the eyes for the both of us, but almost uncharacteristically cool.
Under the moonlight the world reflects completely different than under the sun and the far carrying night air is filled with unknown sounds and even smells.
I know horses are night-living animals yet it still surprises me how profound the effect is on their confidence. It is probably because horses have the largest eyes of all land-living mammals that they can see better than anyone, are at an advantage.
A special and instructive experience; the alienated rider who múst rely on the horse that is in its element.

Indeed, the view is stunning. It is not clear to Arabella however what the fuss is about and she sighs pretentious. 'Right, back we go then' and she has already turned round on the spot.
We return the same route. It all looks different at night anyway and I have also seen how the terrain is on the way up. Arabella doesn't have to hold back now and we both enjoy how she 'irons out' the rough terrain like a tracked vehicle in a relaxed unbridled gallop.
My only 'worry' is communicating the course corrections sufficiently subtle in order to avoid her translating a sharp left from a sharply given left signal.
The last 3 kilometres I ask and instantly get a collected trot and am danced home.

We can hear her stallion call from this distance but this does not hurry her in the least. She also enjoys the ride, but there is no doubt the welcoming committee makes her feel happy to be home again.
My love surprises me, sweetly smiling in the hot damping Jacuzzi, with a brandy already poured for me. Romantically bubbling under the stars I realise how good she is at training me: 'you get what you reward'; a man who loves to come home, a lót.

HC

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