Big Brown

I promised you guys a post about Big Brown, but I didn't get back to it yesterday so here it is.

Big Brown. Gorgeous, fast as hell, and, holy shit, a racehorse with manners!

This guy is just a freaking freight train on the track, and a lovely one to watch at that. He's sleek and muscled and just a beautiful specimen.

The thing that surprised me the most about Big Brown, however, was not the ease with which he overcame his 20 post start, or the way he flew by the pack and cleared the finish line all by his lonesome, in spite of his fragile feet.

No, what surprised me most was his behavior. Anyone who watches horse racing knows that racers, by and large, are a high strung, ill mannered bunch. Trainers are afraid to kill their spirit, so they tend to let manners slide, and they're focused on speed, so they ignore the finer points of training.

If you look at the above picture of Big Brown, however, you'll see that he's bent at the poll, flexing his neck and "giving his head back" to his rider. He obviously wants to keep going, but he is listening.

Seeing a horse in the Kentucky Derby that will do that is a major surprise to me. Watching the videos online at the Kentucky Derby website of his previous races and workouts, I was flabbergasted.

It's so refreshing to see a horse that has that kind of speed and heart, also being given training beyond the required lead changes, and go go go.

It's a bonus that he's such a gorgeous boy, as well. I see many many girlfriends in Big Brown's future. Of course, the smart breeders will breed him to mares with feet like iron to try to overcome his brittle hoof walls, and to keep from reinforcing that fault.

But, as it stands, I think that Big Brown could have won the Derby blindfolded, with no jockey. This is a horse that was born to run, who loves his job, and is magnificent at it.

Keep your eyes open, folks. I think that, barring injury, Big Brown is going to breeze over the finish line of the first Triple Crown victory in thirty years.

The term "Cinderella Story" is apt enough here, as everyone was questioning his victory at the Derby because of his foot problems. Plus, here's a horse that's running on glass slippers, in the form of thin, fragile feet.

Pray that he doesn't lose one before the end of the ball, we need another Triple Crown.

Eight Belles

When I started looking at the field for the Derby, I immediately admired the spirit and attitude displayed by the three year old filly, Eight Belles. Watching the videos of her other races it was immediately obvious that she never gave up, and loved what she did.

Her amazonian stature at seventeen hands made me think she might just be able to keep up with the boys, and her drive to win made me think, given the right jockey, she might just cross that finish line first.

Unfortunately, in my personal opinion, her jockey screwed up.

If you watched, you'll know that early on Eight Belles settled in behind the pace-setters and stuck to them like a burr. Her jockey held her up there, and that saved some of her energy for the end of the race. Fine.

Problem is, if you watch that filly, you can see that she does not like to lose. The jockey made an error in judgment on when to turn her loose and instead of battling it out with Big Brown (another post on him later) at her top speed, she was still gaining momentum coming up on the finish line.

Before the Derby, they showed some footage of Eight Belles and her trainer, Larry Jones. They'd interviewed him, and he'd gone on to exercise the filly without taking off his mic. It was clear by the way he talked to her that he had a good working relationship with the horse, and it was also clear that she didn't want to stop running. The commentary of "Larry to Eight Belles, pull up," "any time now," illustrated well how much she just wanted to go and the patience her trainer had with her. He never yanked on her head to slow her down, just gave her the cues and waited for her to listen.

Her jockey wasn't so wise in my opinion. When they showed the best footage they had of Eight Belles galloping out after the race, I could see her still fighting to go. I also saw the jockey haul on her head, her head came up, she bobbled, the camera angle lost her as it followed Big Brown, but her shadow on the track was still visible.

That first bobble is when I think she broke the first ankle, and I think it was because she stiff-legged, locking the joints on her leg to try to slow down and get the pressure off when the jockey yanked on her mouth. That shadow came back up from the stumble, and immediately went asshole over teakettle, with a small human shadow pulling a superman move out in front of it.

I think, in my own personal opinion (and I've been looking for an official statement or more experienced opinion to confirm or shoot mine down, and haven't found any) that the broken legs were caused by the jockey yanking on her head. The first one happened right then, and the second happened when she came back up from the bobble that the first one caused with all of her weight on one leg.

I think that jockey should have known his mount a lot better than that.

Now, don't get me wrong here folks. I understand all too well that the Thoroughbred breeding programs have developed a really fast horse, that runs on brittle twigs for legs. All horse legs are vulnerable to a myriad of injuries, Thoroughbreds in particular have fine bone structure that makes them particularly susceptible to breaking those delicate legs. Witness Barbaro, a single wrong step that wasn't even noticeable enough to see on the infinite replays broke his leg.

But.

I think that the fractures suffered by Eight Belles could have been avoided. Human error killed that fantastic horse. Again, my personal opinion, and if you disagree with me, well, that's your option.

The Kentucky Derby

Every year, I wait impatiently for Derby Day. The most exciting two minutes in sports, surrounded by a day full of pageantry and pomp, a return to old-style southern luxury, and of course, lots of big floppy hats.

Here's the kicker. I don't follow racing. I know the big stables, and all that, but I don't follow it obsessively. Just the Triple Crown, and yes, I was watching when Barbaro broke his leg. I knew something was wrong before the announcer did, and the heart that he displayed by fighting to run anyway made me cry.

I have, however, been to Churchill Downs. I was in awe the entire time. Meanwhile, my ex was bored out of his mind while I gazed avidly around on the backside tour, touched the memorial headstones near the Kentucky Derby Museum reverently, and drug him to the grandstands to watch the day's races.

I didn't care, I was at Churchill.

So, every year I watch the Triple Crown. No mint juleps for me, but I will kick back with a beer or a mixed drink and cheer.

Another odd thing about me... I don't do predictions until they're on their way to the gate. I can research the horses, look at their workout times, do all of the things you're supposed to do to pick the winner.... and I'll be wrong.

But if I watch them head to the gate, and pick a horse then, that horse will at least show, more often than not. It's a talent I have.

So, welcome to Derby Day, grab your hats and some bourbon and settle in, folks, cause it's time for the Sport of Kings.

Sorry Folks

I would write a real post but things are hectic and nothing entertaining is really happening.

We're working cows this weekend, and Sparky is coming along, so there should be a post in that, at least...

And, I was going to use the video from the show as filler, but I'm still trying to hog-wrestle it into submission. Stupid software.

So, in lieu of actual content, I give you pictures from the show. These were taken by Farmdad, so enjoy.


This one is just a good one of Monkey. Bad one of me, but a good one of him. Please, no criticism on my seat here folks, I know it's wrong, but I was nursing some lovely bruises and a bruised tailbone that day. I was just trying not to seize up, start crying, and slide out of my saddle to the ground every time I bumped my butt.
This one shows his big ol' long stride. This is his "collected" canter, folks. He's bred for reaching out there and eating up the ground, and he can do it for hours.
This is Red, the miniature wonder, and Sparky. He looks a lot better with someone on his back than he does without them, which should tell you just how ugly he is without a rider. But Sparky has made excellent progress with him the last three months, and I'm proud of how well he's doing now.


And here we have E and Etta. She's so small she makes E look like the Jolly Green Giant. But she's gonna make a hell of a horse, I think.

Below are a couple of just good pics. The first, the young man in the green shirt is the guy who won the HTM portion of the show, and the handmade saddle, the second is just a gorgeous pic of one of the colts. The horse in the second pic is named "Baby," and is beautiful, but dumb as a brick, alas.

My Horse...

Is made of contrary.

I talk about how good he's been doing the few days before the show, and he dumps me.... rather spectacularly.... and gives me a set of bruises and sore spots that are extremely inconvenient.

Saddle horns are quite hard and when your horse tries to give you a colonoscopy with one it makes for a quite painful few days.

The ground didn't hurt me that bad, I managed to roll and just bumped my head a little. But, since I was asleep at the wheel, Dipstick The Rough Stock Wonder got me up on the horn (trust me guys, it hurts when a girl gets racked too) and then in front of the horn for a couple of jumps.

Of course, he was being good and I was being nice, so he had a nice loose rein.... so I was a long way from having his head. I knew about the third jump I was coming off, it was just a matter of doing it where I wouldn't land on someone.

So yeah, bruised my tailbone, got nice big bruises in spots that I don't usually show until after the third date, and generally sored myself up the day before the show.

Getting on him yesterday was an exercise in self-torture. But, the show must go on. And, it was highly amusing for everyone around me to listen to me whimper when I swung my leg over him. Marilyn in particular was entertained.

Warmup... Monkey was a spazz. He spooked at people walking by the round pen, where we'd gone because I didn't know what he was going to do and there were a lot of people to run into in the arena if things did go rodeo. Then he spooked at a tumble weed in the arena. It wasn't even blowing, it was just up against the fence. Twitchy, spooky, wouldn't pick up his left lead for love or money.

I spent most of my conversational time telling everyone that as long as he didn't kill me, I'd be happy.

Marilyn's parting comment before I went in the arena to do my pattern was "Keep the horse between you and the ground."

And we won.

No joke, that contrary piece of horseflesh won the show, after all of the crap he put me through, after piling my ass in front of god and everybody, he won. Not without making me want to cry and fall out of the saddle when he jumped out of a rollback and shoved me back into the cantle, of course, but he won.

And you can't tell that I'm about to wet myself on the video, which I'll try to edit (the software that came with the camera is crap) and get posted asap.

Five hundred dollar scholarship for next semester, makes my wallet happy, but right now I'm still sore as hell... I kept myself loose enough yesterday because I stretched everything out when I got up, then didn't slow down long enough to stiffen up again. Today, my body is making me pay for making it ride yesterday.

Neck, back, a little on the ribs, of course my tailbone and extreme inner upper right thigh (big ol' lovely bruise there, too) are really sore. Then there's the all over body-ache, which is easy enough to deal with. I just sit down suddenly, or at the wrong angle, and I forget all about the muscle aches.

Farmmom is over the moon, of course. I thought she was gonna bust when our portion of the show was over and I had the high score.

During the awards presentation, I just knew that Marilyn was being evil to me when she announced a new award. The Ground Greeter's Award.

Fortunately, two of the HTM students tied for that one, with Marilyn telling me later that they had "a couple" more buck-offs than I did.

I just knew I was going to have to wave my hat and smile for the crowd while I was plotting how best to get revenge. Instead I got to cheer for the winners and laugh.

But, we won, the horses are home, I get to heal up until next weekend when we work cows again, and I got accolades from HTM students that have spent a lot of time looking down on us lowly EBMers, simply for getting back on my horse after he went rodeo, and riding the next day.

Well, what else was I supposed to do?

Unfortunate Word Choice.....

So, anyone who has written anything knows the value of word choice. Hell, if you converse on a regular basis you know how some words have more impact than others.

But, I sometimes forget this.

Today, I had a bit of a spazz moment. See, Monkey's feet were supposed to get trimmed... well, sometime this last week. Stuff happened, and it didn't get done, so I poked at the guys doing the trimming until they agreed to do it today.

'Cept I got to the barn and it wasn't done. So I was a little pissy, and started looking for someone else to do it.

Then after class, the guys showed up... turns out, they'd come and started on him, and he was being a brat. So, rather than drug him, they had me hold him. He was still touchy about his back feet, but he wasn't a complete spazz.

He's such a primadonna, as long as I kept finger combing his mane he was fine.

So anyway, to the unfortunate moment. We took a break so that S could treat Diablo's leg and wrap it (plastic bags involved, which Monkeydoodle does not like) and I was talking to the kid about how bad Monkey's feet had gotten, and why I'd been bugging the crap out of him about it.

"So yeah, there was a reason I was bugging you, it wasn't just 'do me now, now now'..."

*silence*

"Ok that was an unfortunate choice of words... "

Of course, I don't think I freaked him out too bad because later on while he was trimming Monkey's back feet he said "If he kicks me, you owe me dinner."

"Ok, I can do that, if he kicks you. I'd feel bad anyway."

"Me and A."

"What?? A isn't anywhere near him, he's not gonna get kicked!"

"Burger King."

"You have the worst taste in the world.... but ok, Burger King I can do."

'Course, Monkey didn't kick him, he only really tried once, and he got simultaneous smacks from me and the kid, so he decided he didn't want to do that anymore.

But his feet are trimmed. They're not entirely correct because there were chips out of two of them that changed the way he had to trim them, and I'll keep an eye on him in the pasture to make sure he's wearing right, and if they're uneven in a few weeks I'll have him done again.

But I don't know if I'll ever live down that one unfortunate comment.....

Wha?

Apparently, I am a freaking genius.

No, really. It's either that or the people in my repro class are complete frigging idiots. I'm trying to be charitable.

Our whole class today was review for the final, which Marilyn being Marilyn, she forced us to do ourselves. Everyone had to have ten questions to ask people in the class, about materials we covered. If the person you first asked couldn't answer it, then you asked someone else. And then someone else, etc etc.

Except that somehow it became less a "who knows the answer?" thing and more a "ask Farmgirl" thing.

There were some good questions, yes. I had to double check my answer on how long a fertilized ovum remains mobile in the uterus before attaching itself in one of the uterine horns. I wasn't entirely positive on what specific infection caused by retained placenta one of the students was looking for (well, she didn't say "other than......." along with the long list of uterine, urinary tract, and systemic infections that can be caused by a piece of placenta being retained and decomposing in the uterus, so I'm not really beating myself up over that one.)

But, seriously. My questions were easy. Anatomy. Things that we covered last week. Gimme a freaking break.

If you can't tell me that the seminal vesicles are the pathway for the sperm to travel between the testicles and the accessory sex glands, what are you going to do when your stud gets an infection that attacks the lymph nodes near the accessory sex glands and swelling shuts off said vesicles?? Look at the vet with your head cocked to the side and drooling?

And even if you don't want a stud, every horse owner will inevitably breed a mare at some point. It's nearly impossible to resist, especially if you have women or children around. Foals are cute!

What are you going to do if you've got a baby that's not absorbing the antibodies from the colostrum, or a mare that doesn't produce adequate antibodies, if you don't know that a plasma transfusion from the mare (actually a much simpler process than it sounds, trust me) will boost the foal's immunity? Let it die of rhinopneumonitis the first time it gets sneezed on?? Spend thousands of dollars in vet bills to keep it alive when it gets one of the many viruses that go after horses and the virus kicks it's little immuno-insufficient butt?

Gimme a freaking break, people.

I answered about twenty five percent of the questions, while reading an entirely different book, on decongestants that had me looking at the person next to me asking if the wall was blue or if I was seeing things. (The wall was blue, by the way. The projector was on.)

Honestly, am I all that smart or is everyone else just that big of an idiot?? I know that I have a talent for retaining and retrieving information, especially if I read it, and not everyone else does. I don't fault people because they don't remember facts and figures that I can. I just feel lucky that I can discard the things that aren't useful to me, for the most part, or store them in some part of the filing system in my brain that doesn't get opened unless it's needed.

I do fault people when they can't remember that a major benefit of artificial insemination is the reduction in the spread of equine venereal diseases. When it was mentioned constantly. Or that one genetic test can prevent reinforcing a bad recessive that causes a horse to be born with so little bonding tissue between skin and muscle that a light pet on the neck can peel hide, and I mean all of the hide down to muscle and bone, loose.

Or, you know, basic anatomy that you should know at least the bare bones of. Especially when it's the same stuff that's in you.

Gimme a break!