by Bob Kieckhefer
from THE BLOOD-HORSE, June 22, 1996
A group of journalists spent three days living life on a Thoroughbred breeding farm
It's real easy, when most of your contact with racing comes in state government meeting rooms, the halls of the legislature, or even in press boxes high above finish lines, to lose sight of the fact that the focus of this game is - the horse. So when Robert N. Clay's Three Chimneys Farm asked racing writers if they wanted to spend three days actually working on the farm, learning from the experts, I jumped at the chance.
Actually, I more than jumped at the chance.
The day the brochure arrived at the UPI office in Chicago, I started calling Three Chimneys' marketing director Margaret Layton every day, flat-out begging to be included in the first class of "Camp Three Chimneys." I told Margaret I was the perfect camper because I had the most to learn: I knew which end of the horse eats and which end does the other thing (although I was to learn more about that!), but that's virtually ALL I knew about the animals. I volunteered to bring my own bag of carrots. I threatened to have my 14-year-old race-fan daughter, Gretchen, write a letter saying, "Please let my daddy go to your horsie camp." I sent a box of Frango Mints from Marshall Field's as an unabashed bribe.
They finally gave in to the relentless pressure. And so I, and four others, gathered the evening after the Toyota Blue Grass Stakes (gr. II) to meet Clay and his top staff and kick off an experience that, for them, was a somewhat risky experiment and, for us, an unprecedented learning opportunity. Much that we learned probably is common knowledge to those who live with horses, so cut me some slack if, as a city boy, I overemphasize the obvious. The people I met are remarkable and I'll describe a few of them, too.
Sunday Night
Clay, Layton, general manager Dan Rosenberg and the division managers met with us in the original, 18th Century log-cabin portion of the farm offfice. They were trying to get a feel for what they'd gotten themselves into by inviting into their midst a bunch of inquisitive outsiders. Some of us were trying to figure out what we'd got ourselves into by putting our deskjob bodies on the line for actual manual labor.
Clay gave us an overview of the history of the first generation farm which he and Rosenberg have built from an original 100-acre investment into one of the premier operations in the Bluegrass. They went over our schedules and gave us beepers so they could alert us at our hotels if a mare appeared ready to foal during the wee hours of the night. We were all looking forward to the miracle of birth - maybe even the birth of a future Kentucky Derby winner. Clay and his wife, Blythe, then graciously hosted a dinner for the whole crowd at their home across Old Frankfort Pike.
Interesting observation: Never assume that city folks are more technologically adept than their country cousins. A mare was ready about 10 p.m. and the farm paged all five of us to hustle back and check it out. Four of us, totally unfamiliar with the pesky little devices, didn't realize you had to turn the darn beepers ON. We missed the whole thing.
"We never dreamed," Rosenberg said later, "that you wouldn't know how to use a beeper. Everyone around here has one."
Monday Morning
I was assigned to report at 7 a.m. to stallion manager Wes Lanter. Driving west from Lexington on Old Frankfort Pike, the sun was rising behind me as clouds moved in from the west, creating striking color patterns over the stallion barns - home of Seattle Slew, Rahy, Wild Again, and the other "stars" of the Three Chimneys operation. The woodpaneled, skylighted surroundings housing the stallions weren't as big a surprise as the way the animals are treated. The people who work with these horses clearly love them. But they also respect them and, within the parameters of doing their job, let the horses set their own agenda.
Fascinating person: How'd you like to ride Seattle Slew every morning? That's part of Judy Dehaan's job. She got interested in horses in her early 20s and moved to the Lexington area after visiting as a counselor with a girls' group. She said she was working for Spendthrift Farm as an exercise rider when she heard that Seattle Slew was tacked up and ridden every morning.
"I thought, 'I'd like to do that just once,'" she said. "Did I think I'd ever do it? Never. Never. This is a dream come true."
She said it is Seattle Slew, not Judy Dehaan, who sets the agenda for the daily one-mile ride, four times around the paddock. "Sometimes I can tell he's going to gallop that day and I just have to get ready for it," she said. Dehaan also rides the other stallions at least every other day. Seattle Slew comes first.
There was plenty of routine work, even among multi-million-dollar stallions. Welsh transplant Damian Lynch let me clean Seattle Slew's bridle and polish the brass ("Don't do the rings. They just get dirty again as soon as they rotate through the leather parts"). And I worked the doors as mares were led in to be "teased" to make sure they'd be receptive to their stallion. The experts then washed them and bound their tails with bandages.
The actual matings weren't what a novice to this business would call routine. The staff did everything possible to make sure the mare was ready. The stallions were amazingly professional about their role. But if something were to go wrong, nearly a ton of angry or frightened Thoroughbred in a confined space would be, to say the least, dangerous, and I was urged to keep my distance as French Deputy covered Scrumptious.
Interesting observation: The matings were videotaped, primarily to provide a record in case something goes wrong. "Blue movies for horses," Lynch remarked.
By the time Wild Again was to cover Little Sucker, a Zen mare I'd bet on during her successful racing career in Chicago, I was put back to work. My job was to hover close enough to take the handoff from Lanter of the plastic cup holding the "dismount sample," then carry it into the adjacent lab, where it was viewed through a microscope to confirm the presence of adequate numbers of live sperm. The process was a bit messy. But, for the rest of my life, when I meet someone for the first time, I can now tell them they're shaking the hand that once - well, you get the idea. Hey - ounce for ounce, the stuff is probably worth more than diamonds.
Monday Lunch
Sylvia Folk, who schedules covers for the stallions, explained that her job gets as tough at this time of year as a hotel reservations clerk in Louisville during Derby Week. Folk, who has been doing bookings more than 20 years, said she usually has calls waiting when she arrives in the early morning. Mares need to see the stallion when they need to see him. They can't always be accommodated, and her job is to deal with the inevitable conflicts while keeping the clients - and the stallions - as happy as possible.
Folk had called the stallion barn that morning to ask Lanter if Wild Again could add a cover that evening. Lanter had agreed, although it meant a longer day for him and his staff. "Wild Again enjoys his job," Folk told us. "But I think it's only polite that I ask Wes if it's okay to book him to his third mare that day."
Monday Afternoon
Michael Youngs handles pedigree information for Three Chimneys, using his computerized databases to advise clients about the best possible combinations of genes between their mares and Three Chimneys' stallions. His job is not only to sell seasons, but to sell them to the right mares so the stallions' progeny do well at the track and enhance their sires' reputations.
He said there are fads and trends in stallions like with other, less lively, commodities. Earlier this year, for example, he had a run on Wild Again.
"Last year, in March, I had 50 mares in Wild Again's book," Youngs said. "This year, at the same time, I had 200 applications - at the same price. He was strongly oversubscribed and that's because of the success his offspring have had in the past year."
Youngs said he neither subscribes to nor denigrates such "systems" as dosage or nicks. Breeding is "an inexact science," he said, requiring data about pedigree, racing records, and conformation. Since he often can't see the mares to determine their conformation, and since some of them are unraced, he often must deduce what he can just from the pedigree.
Fascinating person: How does one become a pedigree expert? Youngs said he got his start from his mother, who bred dogs in Switzerland. "I'd be standing over her shoulder, watching her do pedigrees. Four or five generations (represented on the pedigree) could be sleeping there at her feet. She could show the faults she had to breed out and how she tried to do it," Youngs said. "I became acutely aware that a pedigree actually was conformation information."
Tuesday Morning
Yearlings, with Gary Pimentel and crew.
It was cold in the Bluegrass and the yearlings, always a little feisty, were even more on their toes than usual. At this age, each of the young horses had been isolated into its own paddock, but they were still being left outside all night and most of the day. In weeks to come, they will spend more and more time inside as they prepare for the July select sale at Keeneland - a key date on the annual calendar for the farm.
"They're learning to be horses, not babies," said Pimentel, a native of Bermuda.
The yearlings knew food was waiting in their stalls, so they were perfectly willing to come inside. But they weren't too sure about those strange people hanging around with cameras, smelling like the city, so they were a little more skittish than usual. Still, Pimentel's crew got them inside without incident.
They showed us how they groom the yearlings, and Pimentel explained the painstaking grooming the horses will get in the weeks leading up to the sale. The prices these yearlings bring will represent Three Chimney's mid-term grades as a business, although Rosenberg says final marks are determined by the racing performance of their alumni.
Interesting observation: The amount of detail involved in show preparation is incredible. It includes hundreds of steps - from the big things like sending them to the sale a little overweight ("If they're too thin, everyone asks what's wrong with 'em but if they're a lir tle plump, everyone remarks what good eaters they are!" Pimentel said) to braiding their manes so the hair will lie on the right ("Who knows why? It's always been that way") and clipping the white areas of their coats short so they're easier to keep clean.
Pimentel has the crew give us a little "fashion show," similar to what a prospective buyer would see to check for conformation. He tried, but I had a hard time seeing why one set of equine knees was good and another indicated a predisposition to breakdowns. Good thing I don't have enough money to buy a horse!
Fascinating person: Blacksmith Bill Wilburn showed up to work on the yearlings, mostly checking for problems and evening off their hooves. He said his dad smithed in their native Tennessee, but he opted for the world of big business - until he was offered the choice of moving to Columbus or Indianapolis. "None of the above," he said, preferring the rural life. Wilburn, almost 50 but looking a decade younger, said the business has changed so much he wouldn't let his son follow in his footsteps. But Rosenberg said Wilburn is "an artist and a genius" and Pimentel said he has "never heard Bill swear or get sore at a horse."
Fascinating person: Pimentel was a walking source of merriment, always ready with a story about life in Bermuda and his crazy friends there. He told of arriving in the Louisville winter of 1978, only to have to call a helicopter to get his wife to a hospital to deliver her baby while a snowstorm paralyzed the area. "I thought I knew what I was doing," he said. "But really, I had to be taught everything. When I saw my first foal, I was hooked."
The humor, however, masks the intense pressure involved in preparing dozens of yearlings worth millions of dollars to Three Chimneys' clients‹pressure that gives Pimentel intense headaches.
Tuesday Lunch
Discussing Pimentel, Wilburn, and the care of expensive horses, Clay quoted trainer Neil Drysdale, who had visited the farm recently: "Happy horses win races." So, Clay added, "We're in the business of keeping horses happy until we turn them over to somebody else who will keep them happy."
Added Rosenberg: "Everybody involved in its care, from the night watchman who handles the foaling on down the line, has a chance to ruin the horse. What we have to do is to give that horse every chance to be the best horse it can possibly be."
Tuesday Afternoon
We attended the Keeneland 2-year-olds in training sale as a group. The primary connection with the farm was that Clay was selling a Storm Bird filly, hoping to improve on bidding last September that fell short of the reserve he'd set. He did well. We also noted that Wild Again's progeny generally were well bid.
I sat two rows behind trainer Carl Nafzger as he was the last to drop out of the bidding for the only Unbridled colt to go under the hammer. Nafzger trained Unbridled in his Kentucky Derby (gr. I) and Breeders' Cup Classic (gr. I) season in 1990. But despite cajoling from the bid-takers ("You know this horse better than anyone, Carl!"), the colt went to the British Bloodstock Agency for $315,000.
A rival buyer said later he wasn't worth that much but was bid up because of the success of Unbridled's Song and Grindstone in this year's Kentucky Derby preps. Maybe so. I'll certainly be watching later this year on the track for a 2-year-old by Unbridled out of the Forever Casting mare North Easton Miss! The proof is in the pudding.
Wednesday Morning
We missed another foaling late last night. This time it wasn't our fault. Night watchperson Diane Safarik had a little trouble with the mare, Appella, and her Cahill Road foal. It all worked out okay, but Diane had too much on her hands to worry about calling in gawkers who would only add to the confusion. By the time we arrived at 5:45 a.m., the foal was getting the knack of standing up and seemed to be nursing fine after some initial confusion. "I was about to give him a bottle when he figured it out," Diane said.
Broodmare manager Gary Bush, who also helped with the foaling, returned in good cheer after catching a few winks and led us on the first of several tours of his broodmare barns. First time around, he had Whitey in tow. Whitey is the Tracewood Division "teaser," whose job it is to determine by direct horse-to-horse inquiry whether the mares are ready for their trip to the breeding shed. If they are receptive, it's a peaceful encounter. If not, the mares kick. Hard.
"He ought to get hazard pay," one of us commented as an unready mare shook the barn with a thunderous kick.
"Whitey or me?" replied Bush - the guy who holds the teaser's shank.
Fascinating person: Whitey was inherited. When Three Chimneys took over the Tracewood property about six years ago, he came with the farm. While his job usually is frustrating, since he certainly doesn't get to cover any of these valuable mares, he's not totally bereft. He gets to cover surrogate mares. And Bush said he has his special, platonic pals. "He always picks out a few girlfriends. They don't have to be in heat. He just loves 'em," Bush said as Whitey nuzzled a favorite mare.
Whitey isn't the only barometer of equine ardor. When the horse was done sniffing around, Three Chimneys veterinarian Dr. James Becht came in for a "look." Using an ultrasound probe inserted through the mare's nether regions (while I take a turn holding her tail to one side), Becht inspected the uterus and ovaries. He looks for ripening eggs in mares yet to be bred and checks for pregnancies in those who've already been covered.
But no matter what Whitey finds and the vet sees, Bush is the boss. For instance, he had observed Whitey's successful approach to the mare Now Dancer. But Becht said the follicles on her ovaries weren't quite ripe yet. Bush agreed with the doc, and Now Dancer's dance card was pushed a day.
"It's a team decision," Bush said.
"Usually we guess right," Becht added.
Interesting observation: The reason Bush keeps such close track of the mares' ovaries is that they have to be bred BEFORE they ovulate to have a good chance of pregnancy. The ova only live six to 12 hours after ovulation, Bush said, while sperm from a typical stallion live 48 hours. So the best chance of coupling chromosomes is to have the sperm there, waiting when the egg erupts. Bush said some stallions are way better than average. Seattle Slew's sperm, he said, can live five days. Thinking back to Monday morning's chores, I decided I'd better wash my hands again!
The brochure advertising Camp Three Chimneys said, "All great journalists were muckrakers. We're going to teach you what the word really means." Bush was the guy who handed me the pitchfork and rake. While I wouldn't want to do it as a regular thing, mind you, cleaning out the few stalls I was assigned wasn't quite as bad as I expected. I broke a pitchfork. Claimed I was working so hard and fast that the instrument just couldn't take the punishment. But that was a bunch of, ah...you know.
Wednesday Afternoon
Marketing assistant Braxton Jones took us on a field trip to Rood & Riddle Equine Hospital, where we watched Dr. Larry Bramlage arthroscopically remove a bone chip from a 2-year-old colt's right hind leg. Bramlage is THE expert. Watching him work was like standing alongside the batting cage watching Pete Rose hit a baseball, or being on a movie set watching Jack Nicholson act. The chip was out in less than nine minutes from the first small incision. And that included time Bramlage took to explain to the unexpected audience what he was doing.
As I watched, I realized, first, that I was observing something I'd written about many times - "Such-and-so had a bone chip removed, etc., etc.," and, second, that I had never REALLY understood what those words meant. Now I know and I'll never again write those words in ignorance of the reality they represent.
The same is true of everything I learned in three days. I still know virtually nothing about horses, compared with the people who spend their lives working on the farm, caring for horses because they love them. But since I started from virtual scratch, I now know a lot more than I did when I arrived. That won't automatically make me a better reporter. But it probably won't hurt.
