By the time Poetic Waters gave birth to Rosie six years later, I had crammed as many broodmare and yearling sales in as possible, sold a couple of yearlings, read as much as I could about thoroughbred breeding and spent as much time as my normal life would allow with people who have worked with horses all their lives.
I hoped their great experience would compensate for my lack of expertise and unbridled expectation; I still hoped one of these youngsters could grow up to run! That was the dream, anyway, one I share with thousands of other small breeders around Australia.
Yet, to do this properly, to even be able to talk with the people I was hoping to learn from, there was a vast amount of information I needed to tap into. But it’s information no one, it seems, agrees on. There are great divides to cross and the terrain is tricky!
Take for instance, the basic history of the thoroughbred. A cursory glance suggests the breed’s genesis traces back to three Founding Fathers: the Byerly Turk, the Darley Arabian and the Godolphin Arabian, or Barb. These are the three stallions, many will assure you, who helped start it all. But really old pedigrees indicate these lads were by no means the only ones used in the very early days of the breed.
In his excellent book Racehorse Breeding Theories, breeding theorist Frank Mitchell writes that ‘extended pedigrees (do) reveal some surprises’. King James I, it seems, imported a stallion known as the Markham Arabian to England in 1616, along with many other sires and mares, to help improve his thoroughbred lines. So it was far from the small group of equine foundation fathers many purists have led us to believe.
‘The most common names appearing in the pedigree of English Triple Crown winner Bahram were not the founding fathers.’ Instead, relatively unknown horses such as Darcy’s White Arabian, the Morocco Barb and the sire of Old Bald Peg were repeated ‘more than 100,000 times apiece’. In other words, thoroughbred breeding and its origins may be as mysterious as the lineage of human royalty: who begot whom may not always be clear.
Fair enough. Yet appreciating the depth of thoroughbred history is pretty straightforward compared to grappling with the vast array of so-called breeding systems there are to understand, let alone apply.
The more research I do, the more I come to understand the countless ways there are to try for that edge in terms of breeding theory. In-breeding, out-crossing, dosage, heart score, nicking … there have been so many approaches developed over the past century that to try to test them all would take decades. It sounds like a secret language and, in many ways, it can be, because it has so many dialects. But the basics are pretty simple. Breeders, small and large, are in constant search of the best genetic match—families that produce winning offspring when brought together in the breeding barn. This can involve strong physical match-ups, as well as matings mapped out to include full sisters on both sides of the pedigree page, or great-grandfathers reflected in both the mare and the stallion’s families. It’s an endless search of fascination and frustration. Still, it seems that breeders around the world owe a real debt to one man in particular.
Joe Estes was the editor of The Bloodhorse Review, a serious North American journal on thoroughbred racing and breeding, until the early 1960s. According to Frank Mitchell, Estes ‘began searching for ways to assess the racing ability of the horse, and he eventually found it through a statistical analysis of earnings. He called the new indicator of racing class the average earnings index (AEI) and he used it extensively as he continued his studies on bloodlines and performance. Estes found it was an immensely useful tool and that it helped point out the most likely good producers with high accuracy.’
In a nutshell, Joe Estes’ cornerstone argument was that a good race mare was usually ‘a far better producer, on average, than an average mare’, and that it obviously made commonsense to send that mare to a high-class stallion to make the most of this.
‘It is, of course, much easier for a mare to conceal excellent hereditary qualities under a poor racing record than for a stallion to do so,’ Estes wrote. ‘Hence the owner of any sort of mare may live in hope of having her produce a high-class racer. But he may as well know the odds in the game.’
While Joe Estes made it his life’s work to understand these odds, he wasn’t too high-minded to admit that his theory—like most when it comes to breeding thoroughbreds—had its flaws. ‘In actual experience, good broodmares frequently develop from mares which were not raced at all or raced without distinction. And of course some of the best race mares fail as producers, for one reason or another.
‘In Thoroughbred breeding … gold is where you find it, but the best place to look is right on the surface—in the individual itself, in the phenotype.’
In a funny way this is good news and I wish I had come across Joe Estes’ columns, some of the best of which date back to the 1950s, before spending hundreds of hours on my own, scouring the glossy stallion directories in a bid to find the ultimate match for Po. She was the gold I had found, I just hadn’t recognised her precious qualities. Eventually I came to understand that I had not done the mare justice with the previous two matings because I had not appreciated the beauty of her pedigree itself. I had not really seen the gold right in front of me.
She would not have made Joe Estes’ category of good race mare, or even average race mare; she had only started three times in her short first career, for a third placing at provincial Nowra in southern New South Wales. Then again, some of Australia’s best broodmare producers probably wouldn’t have met his standard either. Maria de Castiglia and Lover’s Knot, the mothers of the two recent Melbourne Cup winners, Shocking and Viewed, didn’t amount to much on the track and were sold at auction for $20,000 and $36,000 respectively, both in foal with their Cup heroes, unions that were more about stamina than speed, and no doubt another reason for the lack of sale ring excitement. Nevertheless, the mares hailed from solid families, as did my own broodmare. And as an individual, Po was my best place to start, the phenotype. But what I had done with her before, with every good intention, was precisely what the commercial side of this market demands: focused almost entirely on the stallion, theoretically as well as practically.
I hadn’t appreciated Po for Po’s sake.
She was naturally blessed in her physical makeup, being of long barrel and generous hindquarters. This is important, as outlined in Racehorse Breeding Theories, because there are effectively three components of a racehorse: stride, weight and power or leverage. ‘Measurements of the legs, shoulder, back and hip are primarily responsible for determining the horse’s stride. Girth and body length are the primary components of weight, and the length, muscularity and angulation of the hind limbs are responsible for generating the power necessary to make a horse run fast.’ Put simply, a horse has to be as physically balanced as possible to be able to gallop fast and strong. Or at least have that potential!
Another key to success apparently lies in assessing a horse’s stride, because a horse with a good long stride will have an advantage over one that doesn’t. As Frank Mitchell puts it, ‘the top horse does everything easily because of the length and efficiency of his (or her) stride.’
As I read this, I can see Po cantering across the paddocks at the farm, her stride long and fluid, with a more graceful action than the other mares running with her. It isn’t just that she is that much bigger than the rest of them, it’s the actual length of the motion, and the economy of the action itself. She covers ground more easily, and seems to hover slightly above it as she goes, poetry in motion, as much as all the components of biomechanics, the separate body factors, coming together.
Yet the mare is rather narrow across her chest, which could mean the size of her heart—not to mention those of her offspring—probably isn’t as big as it could be. But this could be compensated for in her next foal if I chose the right stallion.
It’s certainly something to consider, as there is also an extraordinary theory about thoroughbreds’ heart size. The larger the heart, this argument goes, the greater the racehorse. Phar Lap’s heart, for one, was found to weigh 14 pounds, a discovery that set off an investigation by Australian scientists into what larger hearts meant in terms of racetrack performance. Internationally other scientists followed suit and, in 1989, the extraordinary American galloper Secretariat was found to have had a 22-pound heart, which no other horse has yet matched.
This line of inquiry also revealed that the pedigrees of large-hearted horses can be traced back to Eclipse, and to the mare Pocahontas, who carried the gene from Eclipse’s great heart on both the top and the bottom of her pedigree, on both sides of her family: the large-heart gene, which became known as the X Factor, was later determined to be passed along the female X chromosome. This, X Factor fans insist, can be genetically planned now, as we fully appreciate what Eclipse and Pocahontas achieved together.
So there were complex genetic characteristics, as well as physical ones, that had to be taken into account and, where possible, planned for. And finally, I could see all this research (and dreaming) coming together: the next stallion Poetic Waters went to had to be stronger than she was through the chest and shoulders, and no bigger than her already long girth. If possible, the mare who was often described as bonny by stud masters should go to a stallion who might just have the X Factor in his genetic makeup.
Looking more closely at her family tree, it was clear she already had the large-heart gene in the mix, courtesy of another breed- shaping sire, Northern Dancer, on her father’s side of the family, while maternally the lasting influence of Star Kingdom came through to her via her grandfather and local stud hero, Biscay.
In a very basic fashion, I was pursuing what Italian breeder Federico Tesio, still regarded as one of the world’s best thoroughbred shapers, was getting at in his rather cryptic text of 1958, Breeding the Racehorse: ‘In breeding the thoroughbred, we do artificially what nature in the wild does naturally. Selection takes place by competition in the racetracks instead of by battle and bloodshed. Only the best are entitled to reproduce.’
In other words, breed the best with the best. In Poetic Waters’ case, this translated into me finding the best possible candidate within a realistic financial and geographic limit to help improve her offspring’s key components.
With all that analysed, even approaching her next mating in this fashion did not provide guarantees: there was no magic code to tap into. Not even for the best of the breeders. ‘Tesio unified theoretical principles with practical horsemanship to an extent that is very rare in Thoroughbred breeding. This is not to say, however, that there is a Tesio formula. There is not,’ Frank Mitchell explains.
‘For Tesio, as for all great breeders, there is a synthesis of thought with the practical matters of breeding. Tesio brought many talents to bear on his approach to breeding. Partly he used his insight into the strengths and weaknesses of individuals and families in the stud book, partly his intuition about the matings and the training that would produce the most successful animals, and partly his luck.’
I certainly didn’t possess Tesio’s unique insights into the strengths and weaknesses of individual horses, nor his encyclopaedic knowledge of their family clans. But I did have time to observe the mares on my farm, and had a strong intuition about one particular stallion whom I believed to be a wonderful match for Po. I had met him on assignment when writing about his maternal great-grandmother.
His name was King of Roses. Still a young horse, he was physically awesome in appearance, almost black, big and muscular yet strangely graceful in his flowing line of movement. He, too, hailed from one of the best Australian families on his mother’s side of the pedigree page.
A great-grandson of Spirit of Kingston, one of Australia’s outstanding race fillies who had become a terrific broodmare, that side of the family also boasted the exalted American galloper Secretariat, who had won the Belmont Stakes—third leg of the exalted Triple Crown series, including the Kentucky Derby—by 31 lengths, way back in 1973. Many believe he was simply the greatest racehorse ever, and though he died at the relatively young age of 19, his extraordinary career has been well chronicled in at least three books, his own website and a new movie.
Potentially, too, King of Roses was well represented via his sire Fairy King, another son of Northern Dancer. He and my mare also claimed two full sisters in their genetic mix, Lisadell and Special, so it was hardly an insignificant union, even though it only cost $4400, cheap as chips in this world.
Even the stud master who walked Po into her date with this little-known stallion late in 2006 was impressed by the horse he admitted he had never heard of before.
‘He’s a grand-looking stallion,’ he told me, promptly booking a couple of his own mares to be covered by the horse.
King of Roses was certainly a potent sire too, getting Po in foal on his first service, a promising start to the 11-month pregnancy that followed. Once Rosie arrived on that warm, windy Sunday morning in Braidwood, I sensed the union between the slightly older matron and the young suitor had worked.
She wasn’t an overly large foal, nor was she as small as the unheralded daughter who had arrived years before; but she was quite broad across her chest and, even as a baby, never backward in coming forward. Federico Tesio, I thought, might well approve.
Still, a successful delivery and clear indication of making some positive progress genetically was just the end of an early chapter in this saga. It was time to get down to business in terms of planning a proper course of action to capitalise on that progress.
But even during the first few months of Rosie’s life, when she was all legs and attitude, there was little time to sit back and take stock.
Too many questions about her future had to be answered, the most important being: when should she start her education as a professional athlete on her way to the track? When she was weaned from her mother as a six or seven month old? Or a little later, as she became a yearling, like all those other youngsters on their way to next year’s sales?
Then again, perhaps I should adopt a more laidback and natural approach to the project, and just wait until she was a two year old, maybe even let her grow out in the paddock until she was three before taking her in hand?
As with the genetic history of thoroughbreds, as well as the numerous breeding theories, one of the greatest divides in racing occurs in the way the experts think about raising and preparing young horses for their lives on the track. And there is no How to Build a Racehorse manual packed full of easy answers.
Some argue it is kinder not to push a young horse too quickly; just let nature take its course, which means they get to grow up in their own time. What’s the hurry anyway? Their family trees often indicate that time is a vital ingredient for their particular genetic recipe to work—and Rosie’s pedigree certainly is not primed to produce an early comer, a horse likely to set the world on fire as a two year old.
Right from the start the way she looked physically seemed to suggest she wasn’t going to be a two year old with precocious strength and speed. She was quite a lean foal, never too skinny but certainly not chunky and compact like a natural-born sprinter. Neither was she the mirror image of her mother, who still has the lean look of a miler at the age of 18 and having given birth to seven foals. Rosie was somewhere in the middle.
So it was probably crucial to make the most of this physical difference early on. But the other side of this debate maintains it is imperative for any young thoroughbred to be properly educated and conditioned for racing from the time they are weaned. As most stud managers agree, the feed supplements that are now readily available for young horses at every stage of life are better for them than their mother’s milk, let alone the best pasture. And let’s face it; the stakes are too high in this industry to allow nature the time to take its course.
Certainly, most Australian breeders adhere to this approach, because so many of their youngsters are bound for the sale rings as yearlings, and most owners are keen on this path too, as it promises fast financial returns on their investments. But getting these babies ready for these showcase appearances involves a lot of hard work, from the twice-daily feeding regimens that ensure they grow as fast as possible, to the regular on-the-ground exercise; walking on a lead rope and halter, and being lunged on longer leads in slow—that is, safe—circles in the confines of a round yard.
By the time the yearlings enter the auction ring, they look as strong and as polished as they can be at this stage of life, their immature young frames buffed and shining to appeal to as many potential buyers as possible. Their personalities are still a work in progress, but they actually look the part they are bred to play as a young racehorse.
Those still in the paddock tend to look exactly the way they should: scruffy, roly-poly youngsters if the grass is lush and high; gangly and rakish if their natural source of food is in short supply. This means they can’t grow as quickly, or develop in the same way as yearlings in early training. Nor do they get a chance to interact with humans as much; in fact, they don’t know anything about life beyond their paddock. Nevertheless, they can eventually catch up and go racing, and some can turn out to be top-line performers, despite their slower start to life on the track.
Both approaches make sense; both come at a price. The slow grow in the paddock is obviously the cheaper option, at least in the short term, especially if you own that paddock. But while a young horse’s early preparation costs quite a lot of money—around the $40 a day mark, for at least four to six weeks—an extra year in the paddock at this stage of development can end up costing more in the long term of the potential performance of the horse.
Without the daily feed regimen a youngster’s constitution isn’t as advanced, because it doesn’t have the benefit of disciplined daily exercise and their overall skeletal and bone development is not as strong. They certainly aren’t as well adapted to stable life, and there is always the chance of an accident occurring in the paddock, as they move around freely all day, every day, without regular supervision.
And it stands to reason that most horses who get to the races early in their careers are also mentally tougher than their counterparts still in the paddock. Since the time they were weaned, they have been put through their paces, physically and mentally, as they learned how to work with humans. This is seen to be an advantage from the time they set foot on a racecourse.
But mental toughness is one trait, at least, I knew Rosie possessed from the outset and could be capitalised on. Even as a newborn, no more than 15 minutes old, she was squaring up to the world, keen to meet it head-on; toey, yet never flighty or fearful, curious and quite cagey. In the end, it was the filly’s independence that helped me reach a decision about her future.
This sense of character also brought about its own series of problems. By the time she was weaned from her mother in late autumn 2008, it was apparent her natural determination could also be described as pig-headed, a definite unwillingness to do things any way but hers.
Even at seven months of age, when she was separated from Poetic Waters, Rosie believed she knew best. While she accepted the small halter that was carefully fitted on her head, the next step at school—a lead rope being clipped to the halter, underneath her chin—was an affront, a clear attack on her independence and almost a bridge too far. This meant she and her close friend Roxie were forced to spend a little extra time than usual in the small yards on the farm, with their short ropes dangling from their halters, to get the bay filly to accept the concept. The chestnut filly, born a week or two before Rosie, was also much better humoured, in terms of learning the basics. The daughter of Diane’s big bay mare Elsie, this yearling was as short and compact as Rosie was lean and long. The closest of friends now, they will probably never meet on the racetrack, destined to be a short course sprinter and miler respectively.
‘She’s a vixen,’ Diane, the farm manager, would say, her voice rising ever so slightly as she recounted the latest of Rosie’s escapades that had taken place during the week while I was at work in the city.
This could involve silly pranks like knocking over water buckets several times a day, or wheeling around the yard, rope dangling beneath her feet, as if being chased by an invisible assailant, to more serious offences like deliberately trying to kick Diane (or whoever was handling her) or nipping the farrier who arrived on the scene a month or two later, to ensure both weanlings adjusted to the routine of having their hooves trimmed. While horseshoes were a year away, getting used to having their feet handled like this was important.
And even I could see that Rosie did possess a rather feisty approach to life. Always the first horse to walk towards you in the paddock, the one with the cheerful whinny, she was also the only one to pin her ears flat back on her head and walk away once she decided she had socialised enough. A quick parting nip was often on the cards for good measure, another reminder of who had the upper hand. She was not a cute, playful little thing, so intervention was probably a critical key to make sure we unlocked her potential.
Then again, maybe she should grow up, and out, at her leisure in the paddock at home, just relax into herself and mellow out? There was a certain poetic cadence to the concept, and I had long believed, in theory, that it was the best way to go, the kinder approach to growing a racehorse.
With this filly I wasn’t so sure.