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Description
The foundation Caribbean Sport Horses have arrived

Story-

Reagan paused. Was that the boat? Ohgodthatwastheboat. The passenger in the car next to her would have thought someone died as the blonde haired woman raced across the parking lot. A gruff man in a sailor's cap stumbled out of the boat's internal cavities, taking a shaky step onto the dock. "Are you the horse woman?" He mumbled, gesturing into the slotted metal crates that were haphazardly placed in the boat's storage area. "Yea, that's them, right?" Reagan didn't wait for an answer. She bounced up the ladder towards the crates and peered inside. When she had called the Puerto Rico Wildlife Service, they had said they didn't know what color the horses were that would arrive. They would be trained by a local rider (rare on the big island) and shipped to Reagan in late July. A pangare chesnut snuffled the trailer bars with his snipped lip, and a bay tricolor mare huddled in the back corner of her crate. The chestnut was the stallion, and the tricolor, the mare. The stallion seemed to be fairly mediocre around the mare, partially because of the sedatives and also his personality. Reagan had heard the stud was supposedly extremely smart. Two men swung the metal doors open of the crates and lead the horses off the boat with leather halters. The pangare snuffled the air and flehmed, swishing his tail admiringly at the port that surrounded him. The tricolor on the other hand cowered, snuggling up against the man, who clearly did not want the extra attention he poked her shoulder, sending her flying across the dock into the air. She paused to flick her ears at a passing vendor cart and raised her head. "Thanks for the help, you can load them in there" Reagan pointed at the giant trailer she had brought- freshly loaded with shavings and stuffed hay nets. He walked them to the trailer, backing both up and shutting the padded bars in front of them. The tricolor leaned against her trailer wall, clearly overloaded with the stimuli around her. The stud however, lipped at his hay net and peered over the divider at his counterpart.

The drive didn't feel long to Birch Mountain Equestrian Center. The 1 and a half hour drive passed like 20 minutes as the dark green trailer passed by more farms than could be counted. The ivy-covered stone walls marked BMEC, distinguishing itself with white fences, grey barns and so many trees. The trailer grumbled up the drive and parked at the main barn, which also housed the office. The horses would need to stay here to be quarantined for the next week, because of their Puerto Rican heritage.

They unloaded easily, and were guided into separate pastures to get rid of excess energy. Both horses galloped from the end of the pasture to the other end, bucking wildly and crow hopping at the sight of a butterfly or bird.

Reagan and Eric couldn't wait to begin this new chapter in the story of Birch Mountain Equestrian Center

Description
The foundation Caribbean Sport Horses have arrived

Story-

Reagan paused. Was that the boat? Ohgodthatwastheboat. The passenger in the car next to her would have thought someone died as the blonde haired woman raced across the parking lot. A gruff man in a sailor's cap stumbled out of the boat's internal cavities, taking a shaky step onto the dock. "Are you the horse woman?" He mumbled, gesturing into the slotted metal crates that were haphazardly placed in the boat's storage area. "Yea, that's them, right?" Reagan didn't wait for an answer. She bounced up the ladder towards the crates and peered inside. When she had called the Puerto Rico Wildlife Service, they had said they didn't know what color the horses were that would arrive. They would be trained by a local rider (rare on the big island) and shipped to Reagan in late July. A pangare chesnut snuffled the trailer bars with his snipped lip, and a bay tricolor mare huddled in the back corner of her crate. The chestnut was the stallion, and the tricolor, the mare. The stallion seemed to be fairly mediocre around the mare, partially because of the sedatives and also his personality. Reagan had heard the stud was supposedly extremely smart. Two men swung the metal doors open of the crates and lead the horses off the boat with leather halters. The pangare snuffled the air and flehmed, swishing his tail admiringly at the port that surrounded him. The tricolor on the other hand cowered, snuggling up against the man, who clearly did not want the extra attention he poked her shoulder, sending her flying across the dock into the air. She paused to flick her ears at a passing vendor cart and raised her head. "Thanks for the help, you can load them in there" Reagan pointed at the giant trailer she had brought- freshly loaded with shavings and stuffed hay nets. He walked them to the trailer, backing both up and shutting the padded bars in front of them. The tricolor leaned against her trailer wall, clearly overloaded with the stimuli around her. The stud however, lipped at his hay net and peered over the divider at his counterpart.

The drive didn't feel long to Birch Mountain Equestrian Center. The 1 and a half hour drive passed like 20 minutes as the dark green trailer passed by more farms than could be counted. The ivy-covered stone walls marked BMEC, distinguishing itself with white fences, grey barns and so many trees. The trailer grumbled up the drive and parked at the main barn, which also housed the office. The horses would need to stay here to be quarantined for the next week, because of their Puerto Rican heritage.

They unloaded easily, and were guided into separate pastures to get rid of excess energy. Both horses galloped from the end of the pasture to the other end, bucking wildly and crow hopping at the sight of a butterfly or bird.

Reagan and Eric couldn't wait to begin this new chapter in the story of Birch Mountain Equestrian Center