Something Different

It is not often that you are able to place a check mark next to an item on your bucket list.  But this past weekend my wife and I were invited to an event at the Cincinnati Zoo and Botanical Gardens Mast Farm breeding facility in Loveland, Ohio.

The Cincinnati Zoo is renowned for its breeding programs, particularly its breeding of the spectacular cheetah.  Saturday was a special day because we would see Nia ( pronounced Nee-uh), one of the zoo's outreach ambassadors, run, chasing a drag for more than 600 yards.  At the zoo the cheetahs perform five days a week and spend two days a week at the Mast Farm, presumably for some r&r and additional training.

Nia

Nia is a six-year old female.   Cheetahs are completely solitary, coming together only to mate it seems.  At the zoo they are not bothered by the addition of a cheetah from another zoo, far different in their reaction than that of the lion and its strong family ties to the pride.

 Because of their small size, females weighing less than 100 pounds and males up to 120 pounds, cheetahs will often have their prey taken from them by much larger animals such as lions or hyenas.

Unlike domestic cats cheetahs cannot retract their claws.  The lines running down their face serve as "sun glasses" in the white glare of the dry savannah in which they live.

One of the zoo's cheetahs owns the world record for speed by a cheetah.  Over short distances, speeds of 70 mph ( 43 kilometers) can be reached.  One of the videos I've included shows Nia chasing, catching and mouthing a drag.  Curiously, her keepers could easily take her "prey" from her without much of a reaction, she much preferred to lie down in the grass and purr. The purr is high pitched and to me sounds like the chirping of my own pet cats.

Someone in the small crowd asked what would happen if Nia were to see a deer, rabbit or squirrel.  Her handler said, "Nothing, she simply would not know what to do with it."  Even though most if not all of the zoo's cheetahs have been born in captivity and know nothing of the wild, I suspect they would quickly revert to their natural instincts if left to their own devices.

On the downside, cheetahs do not care much for strangers and Nia in particular does not like men. Perhaps there is some well deserved justice in that.

Nia surveys her audience.

With her handler and her prey.

There was never a moment when Nia's handler was not smiling at her.

What trust looks like.

The chase and capture.

OOP'S.  Watch how calm Nia remains.

After the cheetah run we visited McCauley's Saddlery to pick up some Cowboy Magic green spot remover.  Stormy has spent the last week or so rolling in her own poop, but with the weather cooling off, I need some outside assistance to keep her as clean as possible.

I think I may have mentioned in another post that a while back Callie became startled and when she raised her head with great force, my head got in the way.  No doubt I was out on my feet for a bit. Well, the saga continues, When I bent down to put on her Soft-Ride boots, she stepped forward and caught me on the eyebrow ridge over my right eye with her knee.   I have a nice shiner, but that's okay, because my black eye's color matches the color of the nail on the ring finger of my left hand. After feeding Callie some peppermints, I let her lick the sweetness from my hand while I reached over to pay some personal attention to Stormy.  How my ring finger wound up in her mouth I don't know, but I certainly knew it when she clamped down.  The pain was unbearable and all I could think was, "She's going to take the tip of  my finger off."  No matter how hard I tried to get away, I couldn't.  I began yelling in panic and pain, until a startled and frightened Callie spit me out!  And several months from now the black and blue nail will give way to a new pearly white one. 

 Will I never learn?

Oh well.

Copyright, October 20, 2015 by Loren Schumacher

Beach Crisis Has Been Rescued!!!

Great news.  The Standardbred, Beach Crisis, has been pulled from the kill pen in Pennsylvania and is awaiting transportation to his new home in Indiana.

Beach Crisis, battle tested and scarred.

The only picture we have of him.

Contributions are still needed and if you can contribute to Beach Crisis' continuing needs, please make them through this Paypal account: red22bug@aol.com for Munster Stable.  Remember there are still other horses in kill pens, no doubt hundreds of them and they are as disposable as Kleenex Tissue.  Please help as you can and to those who have made a contribution, Thank You.

Some days the sun is a little brighter and the air a little cleaner.  It's going to be a good day because Beach Crisis is going to live.

Loren*

*I am not soliciting on my behalf.  The above mentioned Paypal account belongs to Munster Stable.

This Horse Is In A Pennsylvania Kill Pen. Will You Help Save Him-Please?

A friend of mine who races Standardbred horses (trotters and or pacers) also rescues horses in need and has asked me to reach out to you for help.  

Beach Crisis is a twelve year old Standardbred that today stands in a Pennsylvania kill pen awaiting death.  He has raced over 300 times in his career and raced as recently as April of 2015 at Northfield Park here in Ohio.  He has won nearly $250K in his career.

How he wound up in this predicament is unclear, but what is clear is that he needs our/your help if he is to live out his life in peace and quiet as he should, as all of us hope to do as well.

Bobbie, who owns and operates Munster Stable, is willing to bring him back to Ohio, but it will take $675.00 to buy his freedom and another $300.00 in transportation costs,  

Will you please donate for his rescue?

Bobbie's Paypal account is used solely for rescues of this kind.

The account is:

red22bug@aol.com

It should be under Munster Stable.

Here is the printed information on Beach Crisis that Bobbie passed along.

Please help Beach Crisis.  He hasn't much time.

Thank you so much.

Loren

"He Could Have Given Up"

Keen Ice, the 16-1 shot son of Curlin, lay in the weeds along with the ghosts of the "Graveyard of Champions," winning The Travers Stakes, besting Triple Crown winner American Pharoah.   Only Whirlaway in 1941 escaped with a win at the Travers after his Triple Crown victories.  Man-O-War lost the only race of his storied career there and the great Secretariat fell to an unknown named Onion.

It is tempting to say, "I saw it coming," because the Pharoah has earned more air miles than a business class flier in 2015, as he traveled between California and Kentucky, or Maryland and whatever race destination might follow.  Think of an eight race win streak that includes seven grade 1 wins in 385 days. Consider the physical toll training exacts from an athlete and add the emotionally and physically draining rush of adrenaline needed to compete  Still, it may have just been a bad day at the races for American Pharoah.

AP "working"

AP broke cleanly from the gate and swept to an early lead.  Sliding easily along the rail, he was shadowed by the perennial groomsman, Frosted, runner-up to Texas Red in the Jim Dandy stakes. The first quarter was taken in a leisurely 24.28 and the second in 24.02.  Frosted, under the hand of replacement rider Jose Lezcano, showed strength and will, dogging the Pharoah at about a half a length behind along the backstretch.  Frosted's trainer Kiaran McLaughlin said he didn't expect for his colt to press American Pharoah.

Frosted caught speeding

Kentucky Derby pre-race workout

Still running first and second, Saratoga race goers waited for Victor Espinoza to give AP his head, waited for the horse's great engine to churn, to hum, to lengthen his stride and to pull away from Frosted.  Rounding the turn for home, Frosted played his trump card, steaming to a brief lead over American Pharoah, who showed his will and courage by regaining the lead with a sixteenth-mile to go.  Frosted, tiring but gallant, faded to a third place finish 21/4 lengths back.

But American Pharoah was spent, his head bobbing up and down, his energy and momentum drained away by the duel with Frosted that covered the third quarter in 23.60 seconds.  He looked for all the world like a child's sad hobby horse.

Espinoza later said, ".. I feel like from the five-eighths pole, his energy level, it was not the same like before...I noticed the horse that was next to me, I was trying to open it up and not let them get close. And he (American Pharoah) just stayed in the same place."

Trainer Bob Baffert said, "He was empty, empty at the top of the stretch and he was still trying to win.  I thought there was still a chance."

Bob Baffert and American Pharoah

Keen Ice settled into the middle of the pack but remained within striking distance of the leaders as they turned for home. Trainer Dale Romans remarked, " We (Donegal Racing head Jerry Crawford and Romans) said there's no riding for second.  Let's put him in the race, closer and try to win the race.  He was closer than he had ever been."

When the fast closing Keen Ice came to the tiring American Pharoah, he had nothing for him and AP finished three quarters of a length back in second place.   Keen Ice had but one victory in his previous ten starts, running a troubled seventh in the Kentucky Derby and third in the Belmont Stakes.

Baffert said, " I could tell he wasn't on his A game today, but he tried hard.  I could tell by Victor's body language that we were in trouble at the half-mile pole, and the only reason we ran second was because he (American Pharoah) is such a great horse.  The winner ran a really good race."  Of Frosted's effort, "...he (American Pharoah) was getting pressured from a very good horse.  He never left us alone.  You can't blame them,  It was just an aggressive, competitive ride."

Frosted.

I am very partial to grey horses.

And finally Baffert said, "It almost ended well,  He almost pulled it off.  He tried so hard under the circumstances and he was still trying to win. He could have given up."

Such a long way to go

American Pharoah as a yearling.

Copyright, September 29, 2015 by Loren Schumacher
All photos in the public domain

Old Friends, Bookends

Because it is so appropriate, I borrowed Paul Simon's lyric for my title.

Like bookends, these Belgian draft horses are seldom far from one another.  I've driven past their ten acre patch of land for nearly twenty years and have always seen them there, never more than a few feet apart.  They share their large pasture with several head of Hereford cattle.   All of them rummage through grass as long and dry as the day.  Their shadows are August short and the day's searing heat rises breathlessly, stretching closer to 100 degrees with each passing hour.

But there is a pond that the cattle wade in and several large maples that they share with the horses.  If it weren't for the hordes of face flies. this bucolic scene might be mistaken for idyllic.

Despite their imposing size the horses were nervous and shy, shuffling off and turning away whenever my camera was poised.

Old Friends, Bookends

I won't look at him.

Copyright 9/23/15 by Loren Schumacher

Photos: Copyright 9/23/15 by Loren Schumacher

But Aren't I Your Horse?

July arrived for a second time in September this year.  The sun is intense and direct, pointed like a finger stabbing at your chest.  If you shake a box of corn flakes (you pick the brand) you'll hear the sound of feet shuffling through the brittle grass of yards begging for water.  Storm clouds build, then fritter away the afternoons, gliding away across the sky on hot breezes that become still at sunset and dissolve, only to reform the following afternoon.  And the flies!  The flies are a plague now as they too search for moisture.

The raspberries have come and gone and are replaced by the fruits of early fall, green apples, quinces and small, brown ripening hackberries.  Callie stands on her long muscular back legs to reach them, gorging herself, just as she does in the late spring when the mulberry trees bear fruit. The berries are tasty but are mostly seed.  Stormy, though, still prefers grass to berries and she delights in a bit of poison ivy.  Carol, wildly allergic to poison ivy, only has to pet Stormy to develop a rash that festers and oozes.

Callie in her winter coat looking a bit like a fuzzy stuffed toy.

 Until recently we have had so much rain that we began to complain, all the while knowing that sooner or later our dry season would come.

Stripping away their fly sheets late in the day brings a nearly audible sigh of relief from both horses. Bathed in sweat, Callie, a dark bay, is nearly black.  Her pretty face is a mass of bloody spots, peeling skin and scabs from rubbing her itchy, sunburned face against the closest stationary object.. Quite often it is me that she uses a rubbing post.  Being selectively head shy, she won't allow me to spread a soothing salve or sunscreen on her tortured face.  I feel sorry for her, but beyond putting a fly mask on her, which she gladly accepts, I can do very little to make her feel comfortable.

Stormy drops to her knees and rolls back and forth, back and forth, using her head as both lever and fulcrum to scrub away the days sweat and fly spray.  Snorting and jumping to her feet, we are sometimes treated to an exhibition of farting, running and a horse in the throes of joy that only a good kick in the air can bring,

The air is alive with insects of every kind it seems,dragonflies, paper wasps and low flying, meat eating deer flies,  While fewer in number than the rest, the deer flies are large and determined to have a meal of flesh and blood.  Even a direct hit sometimes only disorients them.  Falling to the ground after a solid cuffing, a deer fly, tough as a cob, takes only a moment to regroup and fly away.  Only the most nimble and determined of us can bring a just end to the misery a deer fly can inflict.

It was on just such an afternoon recently that I tacked- up Callie, her dark bay coat nearly black with sweat, for an hours workout.  Seeing the training halter in my hand, she hustled to the back side of the stable, but being lazy to the bone and a firm believer in energy conservation, she circled our small red stable once, then walked to within a foot of me and bowed her head.  It took just a moment or two to tie the halter.

Where there is a blade of grass to be eaten, that's where you'll find Callie.

Callie is the sweetest horse I have ever known?  She is without guile or grudge, unlike her stablemate Stormy.  She is a "pleaser" by nature.  Under saddle she is feather-light, responsive and not reactive. But she owns her faults and they can be consequential.  If her feet are stuck, she normally will protest by rearing.  Once I lost the reins when she pawed the air and only a handful of her mane, good luck and a seven-inch cantle kept me in the saddle.  And if she has had enough, enough of anything, she will buck.  That is BUCK!  Really big ones, the kind that show her belly markings to anyone who might be near enough to see them.  But allow me to defend my big girl by saying that the more she is ridden the more she learns and the less inclined she is to those antics.  Remember, she's been babied because of her navicular distress.

When the weather is hot and dry and the air buzzes with flies, Callie wears orthopedic boots to ease the pain as she pounds the tabletop-hard dirt to shake off her tormentors..  The boots make a curious "galumphing" sound when she trots or canters, a sound that always makes me laugh.  Her summer trousseau usually consists of a quality fly sheet with 95% UV protection, a fly mask and, of course, her boots.  I might buck too if I were her.

While I finished tightening Callie's cinch, Stormy stood dejectedly off to one side, her head lowered in an almost submissive way.  The softness and sadness in her dark eyes indicted and convicted me.  Before I could speak, she nickered softly to me in a way that only her best friend would understand, "Hey, what about me?"

Stormy.  Unforgettable.

AMERICAN PHAROAH**

I've fallen under the spell of American Pharoah. The computer advises me that it doesn't recognize that spelling of Pharaoh and for my information and edification has underlined Pharoah in bright red, the color of a ripe cayenne pepper.

Pharoah has proven his courage in a desperate finish at the Kentucky Derby, as a mudder at Pimlico and as a Champion with his stunning victory at the mile and a half graveyard of Triple Crown contenders, The Belmont.  He has been the subject of professional doubt, but his performances have given his detractors reason to reconsider.   He is not invincible, he may yet have a bad day at the races, but for now let's celebrate and enjoy him.  He won't be ours for that much longer.

The  Haskell  Invitational at Monmouth Park (8/2/15) , hard by the Jersey shore, could have been a trap race, a race where an under prepared or tired champion might dull the luster of his recent achievements.  Just 57 days removed from his stunning victory at the mile and a half Belmont, one could almost anticipate a letdown, perhaps a meltdown.  Even Secretariat lost two races after winning the Triple Crown.

Trainer Bob Baffert, who truly seems to be humbled by American Pharoah's ability, said that the horse was a little amped in the paddock and he knew the pace would be fast.  And the speed came with the ringing of a bell and the clanging of an opening starting gate.  Hall of Fame jockey Mike Smith's horse, Competitive Edge, racing two turns for the first time, broke smartly and took the lead as expected with American Pharoah stalking him about a length behind and Mr Jordan, another speed horse, just behind him.

Bob Baffert and American Pharoah

The first quarter was run in 23.1 and the half in 46 seconds flat.  Mr Jordan, unable to stand the pace, fell back rapidly, finishing last, while American Pharoah inched closer to the leader.  Watching the replay of the race one can see that Pharoah simply is not working as hard as Competitive Edge and that the moment, the denouement, would come very soon.  Half way through the far turn, never raising his whip hand, jockey Victor Espinoza, who had held American Pharoah in check to that point, simply let the great horse go.  Dropping Competitive Edge by five lengths with just a few of his elegant ground eating strides, Espinoza hand-rode American Pharoah to an easy 2-1/4 length victory, just a tick slower than the track record for a mile and one-eighth, ahead of fast closing long-shot, Keen Ice and third place finisher Upstart.

American Pharoah at speed

The margin of victory is deceiving because Expinoza, riding high in the saddle, was clearly saving his horse for the rigors of what must surely come, The Breeder's Cup Classic. So dominant was his performance that American Pharoah became only the tenth horse in history to run a mile and an eighth in less than 1:48 - and did it while being pulled up.

Jockey Victor Espinoza  and America's Horse

The Asbury Park Press headline put it best: Total Domination: American Pharoah wows everybody in the Haskell.  The article's author, Steven Falk, quotes jockey Victor Espinoza, "He (American Pharoah) is always a champion.  That's why he won the Triple Crown and (Sunday) he showed it again."

History will remember the misspelling of Pharoah as little more than an interesting factoid, an aberration, perhaps a mood lightening giggle in the high stakes game of thoroughbred breeding and racing.  His racing career will end in October and he will be shipped to Coolmore Ashford Stud in Kentucky, where a bevy of willing and some unwilling maidens await his pleasure and the racing community will stand in line to spend its cash on his first crop of foals.

It will be a sad thing to watch him be led away, The cheering will fade and the throngs will move on to the next greatest thing.  In that moment he will begin a kind of falling away.  There will be those who will compare him to Citation or Seattle Slew, even Secretariat, but American Pharoah can only be compared to those who raced against him, then followed him across a finish line.

Copyright August 6, 2015 by Loren Schumacher
All photos in the public domain
**Another version of this story appeared in HorseCollaborative.com 8/7/15