Great horses call to us out of long-distant times, asking for help for their descendants, whose suffering moves us from a deep place of feeling, frustration and outrage at their needless pain and death. The beautiful, spirited animals called Thoroughbred horses are falling down dead, after lives of only two or three years on Earth. Secretariat’s stellar career comes to mind as one of very few who meet the rarified gold standard of excellence, built on steel-strong legs and a mighty heart to win races.
Not all are so gifted. Breeding, selling and racing these horses from age two forward, as long as their bodies and hooves hold out, is a thrill to anyone involved with them - trainers, jockeys, and owner/partner groups. Race jockeys Valenzuela, Borel, Stevens and all the great riders of the last 100 years can testify to the enormous feeling of “GO!” powering under them as a fine, expensive and well-trained animal surges from the starting gate and fights for the lead, or preferably, a shoulder position in the galloping pack, just off the lead, with enough juice and heart left as they round the far turn and close in on the finish wire to gun it to the front, and leap across it first.
There may be impressive daylight between the front runner and the second and third placers, or the winning horse and rider may hold on just by a nose or a head-bob to claim victory roses, hugs and happily incoherent speeches from each winner’s team. It’s a party and a great show, put on by the horses for us. But few can afford the massive expense of fielding ten or twelve young stallions and mares to race in America, Europe or Asia.
Several Middle Eastern sheiks play this fast game, also one-trick stables from the southwest which may not have the coin to purchase a fly-in, but trailer their contenders cross-country, at considerable risk. At least one of these has claimed the Kentucky Derby trophy and been hailed as an equine hero.
To me, they all are heroes: in the U.S. alone, 40 new foals are birthed each spring, many more on farms in Australia, England, Canada, and Japan. These are part of investment portfolios, often belonging to wealthy families who visit their runners only on race day, for a social event. Only one horse wins, sometimes by default if they were bumped, and a challenge is dismissed or verified.
None of this is the fault of the horses who run their hearts out, nor of a rider who may have been distracted. A risky gamble is taken by all parties involved. Owners want to win, so badly, and these races have gone on from pre-history through colonial times and the 18th century steeple-chasers in England who run on the flat and jump high hedges, a scary proposition as falls may be fatal.
The sport of horseracing, as old as civilized man, is never void of terrible risk. Generations of breeding by royal, state-owned and private stud farms have produced exactly what was aimed at: powerful, lengthy strides, resilient lungs, physical and emotional heart to command respect on the track.
Too often, tragedy occurs and the horse dies there from a broken fetlock, taking a bad step and going down. Eight Belles, one of the best young fillies of her racing season, was euthanized several years ago, after fighting with every ounce of muscle and bone to beat the boys, coming in second, slowing her stride and tripping, perhaps on a loose shoe. As she fell forward, her other front hoof got in the way. It was over for her: she had nothing to stand on – both legs were irreparably broken.
The vets came with a shot, and she was vanned off, already dead. Everyone grieved badly – such tremendous courage, and so young a mare. It gets worse. This racing season, well over thirty (!) young horses met the same fate just in the U.S., either in training or during a race. Many more died overseas. This sends an alarm which must be heard, wherever horses are sold or bred: Incautious breeding, using sires and mares ONLY for increased speed, endurance and lung capacity, may foal out a stakes winner – but with shallow, injury-prone ankles, weakness of cannon bone, and unsound hoofs, tragedies occur. Brave, willing animals are lost forever.
Even the great Secretariat, whose huge heart was twice the normal size for a Thoroughbred, succumbed in retirement to worn-out, painful feet. There is a solution – but persuading high dollar gamers and buyers is going to be a hard sell, unless those at the top of the sport have more compassion than craving a win at any cost.
This is heresy, but ANYthing is better than losing another wonderful horse to a horrible end, just when she has run her heart out. The American Jockey Club, which keeps records of every colt and filly, also the British racing groups which trace ancestry of everything with four feet, should do a 180-degree turn, and OPEN THE STUD BOOKS! Go back and bring in some new blood – it was done before. Several gifted, speedy Arabian stallions founded this breed centuries ago, and all the speed and nerve they brought, including desert-large hoofs from running on sand, has led to overemphasis on downsizing these hoofs to a tiny size, to run on turf.
This is a no-brainer; someone must listen. These horses, for all their bravery and willingness to serve, cannot keep showing up brilliantly at Keeneland sales and later falling down to die in the dust from fragile feet which are undetected until – the horse becomes sad history.
The Thoroughbred gene pool is over-condensed, flows from far too few foundation sires, too long ago. It is now waaay……..too small. These horses depend totally upon us; someone must speak for them. Anyone who truly loves both horses and sport should lift a strong voice for their defense, and better breeding choices. I very much hope that others will!
Linda Berry is a Northsider.
