I’ve loved horses since I was a little girl. I don’t know when I saw a horse for the first time, but my first conscious memory of one is when I was about four years old. I, the princess, surveyed my kingdom from my Radio Flyer carriage, while my father did his finest impression of a noble steed. As we passed a neighbor’s farm along our rural road, the rumble of the royal carriage filled the heart of the barnyard’s sole occupant with alarm. Head up, tail flagging over his back, nostrils flaring and eyes ablaze, the Arabian stallion pranced and passaged. His entire being spoke to me and, although I had never studied his language, his message was clear. “You might be a princess,” he snorted with disdain, “but I am the King.”
The die was cast, the relationship defined. Ever after, I’ve been a peasant in service of my King, the horse. After twenty-five years of proving my loyalty and paying feasance, I reaped the ultimate reward: a young King, in the flesh, in my care. Although I fed, housed, and bathed him, he fully owned me; after twenty years together, my love and admiration for him has only grown. He is royalty from a long line of royalty, bred by royalty and millionaires. . .or peasants like me. Like another great King, he was born in a stable. Like his ancestors, he earned the right to his existence with his speed, his stamina, and his mighty heart. He is powerful and beautiful. He is a Thoroughbred.
Although the world is full of wonderful horses of all kinds, there’s something about the Thoroughbred that places him--at least in my heart and mind--above the rest. On the scale of equine intelligence, he tends to be near the top. He has an uncanny ability--through senses known and possibly unknown to man--to know what his rider is thinking and feeling. Jockeys will attest to mounts having their own racing "strategies;" trainers are forced to come up with tricky strategies because the horses know the difference between a race and a work. But what I admire most is that elusive quality called "heart," which keeps the Thoroughbred giving of himself and, I'm sure, must be the source of his competitive spirit.
In any modern-day, domesticated equine, the instincts of wild ancestors are not absent but simply put on hold. In the Thoroughbred, those instincts are uber-tuned and always just a hair trigger away. That any horse deigns to submit to human will is, to me, a source of mystery and endless fascination. Why does this mighty creature choose to accommodate the whims of weak and puny Man? Whatever exists in the heart of a horse, that compels him to join with us in partnership, seems to be magnified in the Thoroughbred. When he adopts our wants as his own, it should be recognized as our privilege and never, ever be taken for granted.
Many animal activists and other detractors condemn racing as a brutal sport in which we force these poor animals to participate. Perhaps--occasionally--there is some truth in that assertion. After years of observation, though, I'm convinced that for the most part working Thoroughbreds are treated very well, and racing is something they actually enjoy. Of course their racing careers begin on the whims of Man, but the vast majority wouldn't--or couldn't--remain at the track if they didn't want to be there. Bad actors get barred from the track pretty quickly. And for economic reasons if not humanitarian (horseitarian?) ones, there's not much sense in running a horse that has no desire or ability to win.
From the beginning, Thoroughbreds have been selectively bred primarily for one purpose: to run. Racing is literally in their blood. Successful race horses quickly learn the object of the game--to finish first--and participate actively in it. The best evidence of this is to watch what happens in the (unfortunate) event that a horse should lose his jockey in a race. Although some horses might be content to trail behind, most will continue to fight their way to the front; occasionally, a riderless horse will even win. The ones that show no evidence of this quality will likely have very short careers.
The most amazing such incident I've seen occurred in a televised steeplechase. Not only did the horse continue to run after losing his rider at a fence, he jumped all the remaining hurdles when he could have easily run around them; he remained just as involved in the competition as if his jockey was still aboard. He didn’t win, finishing solidly in the middle of the pack, but it wasn’t from lack of trying. Like the rest of the “also-rans,” he simply tired and was outrun. What made that horse strive to be in front? It was certainly not the whip or a share of the purse. A horse neither knows nor cares that he's a long shot or heads the winning trifecta. He only knows that he loves to run, preferably in the company of his fellow equines...and chances are good that he's quite aware whether or not he was first to cross the finish line.
Watch a group of yearling Thoroughbreds in the pasture: even before they enter training, they'll challenge each other to duels of speed. The same phenomenon can be observed in horses who have recently been retired from racing. I once witnessed two broodmares, both former stakes winners, conduct their own private race meetings in the “back 50.” There was no mistaking it for idle play; they were running with purpose. It doesn’t seem a great stretch to imagine they were seeking to relive the racing days of their recent past.
Such behavior even surfaces in horses many years removed from their racing careers. My own OTTB demonstrates this trait every time we’re on the trail in the company of other horses. With jaunty gait, eyes bright and ears perked forward, he assumes the position of leader as if by right. If another horse tries to pass him, he picks up the pace to stay in front of his own accord. If I hold him back, he flattens his ears (and occasionally, further indicates his displeasure by baring his teeth) as his companion draws ahead. Following, he sulks; there is no other word for it. He’ll grudgingly submit to my wishes, but he’s not truly happy until once again he’s allowed to take the lead. If that's not a sense of competition, then such a thing surely does not exist.
Most longtime race horse trainers will have at least a story or two about a horse that refused to retire. Perhaps an owner decides his stallion is worth too much as a breeding prospect to risk further racing. The horse is vanned, healthy and sound, to a lovely farm with access to an idyllic pasture. Though others have readily adapted to the situation, this horse develops behavior problems: he frets and fusses, refuses to eat, loses weight. Many solutions are tried, to no avail. So the horse is returned to the track and put back into training...where he thrives once again. If this was fiction, the horse would then attain racing immortality through some newfound prowess; but this is real life. Maybe he wins, maybe he doesn’t; but he has been offered retirement, and he has clearly chosen to work.
In the face of such evidence, it’s impossible for me to believe that racing is no more than an evil burden placed on the Thoroughbred by a thoughtless and greedy Mankind. This isn't to say we should turn a blind eye to mistreatment, injuries, or the tragedy of catastrophic breakdowns. Decisions concerning track surfaces, weather conditions, and training should absolutely be made with the best interests of the horses as top priority. When negligence or abuse is discovered, the horse must be removed from the situation and the perpetrator(s) punished appropriately. Also, each trainer and owner should hold sacred the responsibility to keep their charges from harm: to diminish the risk of injury as much as possible; to recognize when it's time for retirement (or when it is not); and to find acceptable ways for racing's retirees to live out the remainder of their years.
This and more we must do, as guardians of our equine Kings (and Queens). We must serve their needs and tend to them, in the very best way we can, as befits their royal heritage...not because we're compelled by whip or purse or law, but because our hearts tell us it’s the right thing to do. We must be as noble as the steeds who carry us. We must learn from the horse that there are riches far beyond money to be found on the track.
The heart of the Thoroughbred pumps to the beat of racing. When the runners enter the homestretch, my heart rate rises to the beat of their thundering hoofs. To esteem both the Thoroughbred and his sport is not only possible, it should be mandatory; after all,
the very foundation of racing is dependent upon the wellbeing of the horse. Long live the king!
