I feel like I say that a lot these days to my 4-year-old off-track Thoroughbred in what I think is our sixth week of stall rest but feels more like the sixtieth. Although his progress healing from a cracked splint bone has been good, he is not yet at the level of soundness he'll need to withstand the rough and tumble play in the field which probably led to this injury, so a month after our last update, we are still basically in the same place.

We are cleared for twice-daily hand grazes and just this week, under-saddle walks. After a Christmas week that included lots of texts to my veterinarian about reserpine and horse poo consistency, as well as a particularly rough hand walk where Blueberry had a rare temper tantrum and spent several minutes as a balloon, I told my friends at the barn I'd had just about enough of stall rest.

'He's driving me crazy,' I said.

But it's often in the most unexpected circumstances that we learn to appreciate the best in our horses. In the background of nursing Blueberry through his splint, I've also been exploring new career options for my 17-year-old draft cross mare. As I've written before, Jitterbug's start in life was not an easy one, and as a result, the start of her training was rocky. She was easy to start under saddle; the challenge came in when she realized I expected her to take instructions from me. We learned dressage, eventing, and jumpers together after I had spent my riding career in hunt seat, and as you can imagine, that was a slow transition. She was not – and still isn't – a particularly willing partner in dressage, but to balance her large frame and downhill canter for the jumps, we had to do a lot of it. It would be a step too far to say dressage judges hated us, but they were usually pretty happy to see us amble out of the ring.

The first horse (at right) and the second (at left)

When it came time for her to find a less rigorous job, I began making inquiries. There was interest from both a local lesson barn whose owner I know well and a nearby therapeutic riding program to lease her on trial (with the provision I retain ownership and be able to come ride and snuggle her frequently – a requirement for me after years of covering stories of well-intentioned sales gone wrong). As I've introduced her to new people, I've had to answer a lot of questions about her.

How is she with kids? Oh she loves kids; kids are her favorite people because they take the least amount of effort and are the most grateful for it. It's the perfect formula.

How is she with a busy environment? Well, since her normal exercise takes place with other (sometimes very green) horses working around her, surrounded by dogs and children, sometimes in blustery wind with pastured horses zooming around just over the fence, I'd say there's not much that bothers her. Except (ironically) carriages. Don't let her see a carriage.

Cows? Thinks they're a bit weird and doesn't really want one for a friend, so mostly just stares at them. Is turned out near a goat, a mini horse, chickens, and mini donkey, so other farmyard animals are no problem.

Is she hard to stop if she gets going with a forward trot? You're kidding, right?

What about ground manners? Her favorite thing in the world is eating. Her second favorite is sleeping. Her third favorite is days when her only job is to stand in the crossties while I clean tack, clean the stall, or clean her. She has quite literally stood there lazily in the midst of multiple fireworks displays while the barn cat weaved in between her legs.

Does she trail ride? She gets very excited on trail rides, and by that I mean she carries her head about four inches higher and sometimes snorts at trees.

Instead of focusing on what she couldn't (or wouldn't) do anymore, the process has made me realize what a terribly useful horse she is for a low-key job with riders in a lesson or therapeutic program, mostly because of how smart she is. She is very good at assessing any given situation and mentally filtering out what she doesn't need to spend energy on. (And in her case, there's very little she thinks is worth spending energy on – a liability in a dressage test, but a strength for the young students she has had through the years.)

That was what drew me to Blueberry's mother when I first met her at Keeneland. She was sweet, but above all, she was smart. She considered new things calmly, curiously. She learned habits – she could shift her weight to give me the next hoof when I finished picking one, and learned which direction I went around her body. She quickly figured out that it was easiest after a show to wait for me at the front of the stall; I might be back for her in a minute and a half because she was so popular, or if I had to get another filly out, she probably had about ten minutes to grab a snack before her next trip.

When I swung a leg over Blueberry for our first under-tack walk earlier this week, I was taking extra precautions. Including his vacation after the Makeover and some downtime before his splint diagnosis, he hadn't been under saddle in two months. I checked my girth a few extra times. I asked my husband to hold him by the mounting block. I closed the arena gate.

And – he was serene. Forward and cheerful, but utterly unflappable. Our rides since have been exactly the same.

Sure, part of it was probably the low dose of reserpine a couple of weeks ago. But I think most of that is his brain. I think he's mostly happy to be doing something, but is smart enough to realize it's not worth too many airs above the ground. My friends keep pointing out what an incredible testimonial it is to him that at the age of four, he has been stalled for six weeks with comparatively minimal drama. There are some horses, particularly young ones and particularly hot-blooded breeds, who can't tolerate stall rest even with much heavier-hitting drugs at higher doses, and who would never have made it a month without needing some kind of sedation. He still stands quietly in the crossties for his standing wraps, ignores the gusts of wind rocking the barn and rattling the doors. He gets through each day not worrying about the one before or the one after, and I'm trying to channel his very smart coping mechanism.

I look really clever, having now hand-picked two incredibly rational, intelligent horses as partners. When I adopted Blueberry, I had been thinking about picking up a young prospect for some time, as I knew Jitter would soon need a lower-stress job. I wasn't committed to getting a Thoroughbred, actually. I wanted a really smart horse, and if they were athletic then that was a nice bonus. I was determined to reunite with him before exploring any other options, and see if he was the personality match I'd hoped for.

As I get ready to get back in the car for a second trip to the farm this holiday, I may feel tired but I also feel lucky. Even as our dressage training is on ice, Blueberry reminds me a little each day what an extraordinary individual he is. There was a Thoroughbred out there for me. I really believe there's a Thoroughbred out there for everyone.

The post The Blueberry Bulletin Presented By Equine Equipment: The Value Of A Really Good Brain appeared first on Horse Racing News | Paulick Report.

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After a short vacation, we had just been getting him back into work when he came in with a bump on the inside of his right cannon bone. My veterinarian examined him and came to the reasonable conclusion that he had popped his splint bone.

Horses have two tiny, thin little bones known as splints that sit on either side of their cannons, running downwards from the knee and tapering off about three-quarters of the way down the leg. They serve no structurally useful purpose and are held onto the cannon with a ligament that runs between the two. It's pretty common for young racehorses to have what we call “popped” splints, which refers to a bump that appears along the bone, where the periosteum (the wrapping layer that sits between the bone and other tissue) has become irritated and inflamed. For young racing horses, this may happen as a response to a sudden increase in high-intensity speed work. In slightly older horses, like 4-year-old Blueberry, who isn't in what anyone would call “heavy” work, you usually see this because they've experienced direct trauma to the leg – banging it against something, getting a kick from a pasturemate in the wrong place, kicking themselves, etc.

Popped splints are not uncommon and usually heal within a couple of weeks with little treatment. Horses have to stop work, but usually can remain on turnout.

At first, what we all thought we were dealing with was a popped splint. It was hot, bumpy, and high up on the leg and it initially responded well to rest and anti-inflammatories. When it got a bit worse again though, I had a feeling it was more serious.

Indeed, two or three weeks into the process, the bump was no smaller but no longer hot and Blueberry was no sounder than he'd been at the start. This time, our veterinarian took radiographs, kicking himself for not doing it on his first visit. They revealed a crack along the inside of the splint bone – so that would explain why it wasn't progressing as we'd hoped. Breaking a splint bone is much less common than just bumping/irritating one, and while I wish we had caught it earlier, it looked up to that point like a very classic case of the more common problem based on its location, his response to palpation and initial response to anti-inflammatories.

The good news is, because his splint is cracked but doesn't have either end broken off, he doesn't require surgery. The bad news is, the only real treatment is time…and rest. Time doesn't worry me; it's winter, and the weather in Central Kentucky doesn't lend itself to really consistent training this time of year anyway. Plus, he's four and we are not Olympics-bound; whatever time he needs, he can have. But rest in this case means stall rest – at least 30 days with no turnout. For Blueberry, that means staring at the same four walls for a staggering number of hours and not getting to rough house with his buddies. For me, that means driving to the barn twice each day instead of once for hand grazing sessions, juggling as much work as I can on my smartphone in the cold, and watching him anxiously for signs of ulcers, colic, new stereotypic behaviors, or basically a hair out of place. And it means I'm spending a stupid amount of money on stall toys for this not-at-all-spoiled little dude.

The barn cats are usually not too far away during our hand grazing sessions

This will be new territory for me though probably not for him, given his previous injuries on the racetrack. I'll have the chance – for better or worse – to see how he reacts to prolonged stress, and what strategies are effective at minimizing that stress. We hope at two weeks we'll get clearance to tack/hand walk, which will open up a new world of possible amusements. In the meantime, I am doing all the research into stall toys and low impact games that I can.

Our verdict on what we've tried so far:

• Jolly Ball: Hates it. Doesn't see the point of it. Not convinced it's peppermint-scented and thinks it gets in the way of his hay net.
• Super slow feed hay net with half-inch holes: Convinced it's a solid plastic bag hanging from the ceiling and that there is no actual food to be extracted from it, so mostly ignores it.
• Slow feed net and bag: We like the net more than the bag, despite them both having one-inch holes. I've no idea why, but as long as he will eat out of something I won't question it.
• Spinning, wall-mounted chew toy: He doesn't know why I added more plastic to his stall. Hasn't this human heard yet that plastic is killing the planet? Have yet to try: smearing some honey on it to see if I can convince him to start mouthing it – and not his doorframe.
• Traffic cone: Wonderful. The absolute most exciting thing he could be given (I suspect because it was free). With no honey as a bribe, he will pick it up and throw it around the aisle joyfully.
• Stuffed dinosaur: Per policy in the Roger Attfield barn, we removed the eyes so he wouldn't actually swallow one – and if there's anything to make you feel like a monster, it's hacking the eyes off a stuffed animal and then hanging it with bailing twine by its neck. Regardless of its rather violent look, he thinks this is great, and likes to grab it by the tail and wave it at onlookers.
• Dog chew toy stuffed with hay and carrots: He doesn't quite get the concept, or is just lazy. Pulls out the carrots he can see and ignores the bitten-off ends and hay inside the ball, despite (I'm sure) being able to smell them.

Yet to try:

• A snuffle mat with food or hay pellets sprinkled inside
• A Likit toy
• Moving into the barn and putting on a variety show outside his stall each hour

The sun is setting on Day 9 of our 30 days, and while Blueberry has grown a little impatient and grumpy, he's still basically himself. We're taking each day one grazing session at a time. We will get through this [someday] and move along to bigger and better things. In the grand scheme of bones he could have broken, this one really won't have long-term consequences for him. In the big picture, it's a blip, but for now it feels very overwhelming and unending. I have to remind myself though, that the nature of rollercoasters with horses is that the dips don't last forever. Sooner or later, you end up back on top again.

The post The Blueberry Bulletin Presented By Equine Equipment: Them’s The Breaks appeared first on Horse Racing News | Paulick Report.

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Our scores on our two tests weren't the highest we've ever gotten, but they were solid and the tests themselves were the best we've ever put in. We came 40^th out of a group of 89, many of whom were dressage professionals. I am thrilled with that outcome.

I started this series with a list of early lessons I took away from my first months with an off-track Thoroughbred (OTTB). (You can find that post here.) That seems like a good way to sum up the many things we learned from this wonderful, crazy, exhausting experience.

• Last-minute hoof issues aren't necessarily the end of the world. Any time Blueberry experiences any kind of discomfort, he is pretty dramatic about it. We say he's a sensitive flower, which has its advantages in the dressage ring. I actually consider it a good thing that he's unafraid to express to me when he's in pain, because I know right away when something is wrong. This also meant that when he got his first hot nail (the first one my farrier has been responsible for in a decade working at my barn, just my luck), he acted like he was dying. Naturally, this happened about nine days before we were due to ship in to the Kentucky Horse Park. Initially we weren't sure whether he had a hot nail or a brewing abscess and I quickly learned that the former will resolve very quickly while the latter, though similarly minor in terms of seriousness, would probably take more than a week to get him back to full strength.We spent three days with his shoe off, diligently packing the foot round the clock and soaking it just before the farrier's recheck just in case he had both a hot nail and an abscess. In three days, the nail hole had closed clean and we were dealing with minor bruising from the time the shoe had been off. We practiced our Training 2 test two days before shipping, charging into the biggest horse show week with exactly two training sessions in the previous 10 days. By the time he arrived at the Park, he was sound, rested, and ready to go, if a little lighter on practice and fitness training than I had intended.

  So the next time I hear about a Derby prospect with a last-minute foot issue, I'm not going to throw them out until I know more about what's going on. A turnaround can be possible, even in what feels like the eleventh hour.

  

  A moment from our Training 2 test

• Horses don't always fit into the timelines we've laid out. Ok, I knew this one already but I'd always thought of it upside down – that if anything, you have to move slowly doing anything with any horse just on principle. But that's not right for everyone. With a month or two to go until the Makeover, I was aware we'd need to step up from the Intro Level tests we'd been performing in competition to the Training Level 2 test we'd be required to do at Makeover. I also knew in advance that we'd only have one show prior to Makeover where we'd have a chance to ride that test. Each level contains three tests, which get progressively more difficult, so Training 2 is actually the fifth and most difficult test we've tried. With a few weeks to go, I still believed it was possible that after Makeover we'd need to step back down to Intro C, the test I figured we'd have been riding if we hadn't had the Makeover as a goal. The one time we competed Training 2, I forgot part of the test and missed a few key technical marks. We were still struggling to get our correct canter leads on the first try. It was — not quite a mess, but not an auspicious beginning.We got a lot of practice in during Makeover week, drilling Training 2 over and over. Leaving the Rolex, I knew I was sitting on a Training Level horse. In just a few short weeks, we belonged at that level. I didn't think we could both improve that quickly but we did.
• A bored baby Thoroughbred in horse show stabling will eventually, with great determination and practice, find a way to poop into his water bucket. And his feed tub. My mare did not prepare me for this level of depravity. Gross, dude. He will also not learn from the experience and may do it again tomorrow if he has finessed his aim.
• The notion that a seam ripper is a critical tool in your horse show kit is not a suggestion. I had Blueberry professionally braided because my braids are absolutely awful and I wanted him to look amazing. He did, and the braider sewed the braids in (which explained how they stayed in so well, no matter how he rubbed his neck along the door frame). She did a beautiful job. I reluctantly took them out at the end of the evening, in the dark, carefully hunting for black thread with bandage scissors so as not to cut holes in his mane. When eventers (at least the eventers I know) braid, it's usually with bands that are easy to pull, but the hunters mean business, even when they do button braids. Seam ripper = vital equipment next time.
• Do not underestimate the bombproof nature of a well-behaved 4-year-old Thoroughbred. Our stabling for the Makeover faced out onto one of the busiest parts of the park for vehicle and foot traffic. We hacked through the show grounds and around the edges of the cross country course to get to our schooling area every day. Although Blueberry had been to small horse shows many times before this, he had to see and hear a lot during this particular week, and he feared nothing. Other horses spooking, bolting, galloping cross country, dogs, golf carts, backfiring tractors – he thought about none of it. Even the echoey Rolex grandstand and brightly-decorated judges' booths were of very little concern to him.The only thing he looked at was the giant rack of colorful jump poles that was being unloaded by volunteers on our first day at the Park and must have looked to him a little like windmills looked to Don Quixote. Fair enough. He stared, planted his feet, and shook in his bell boots. I was nervous, not knowing if he would try to bolt. I considered dismounting, but I sat still in the saddle. I patted him. I let him think for a few minutes, trying consciously to lower my own heart rate. He took a breath, chomped on his bit, and decided to believe me when I promised him they were safe. Is there a greater feeling than your horse saying, 'I trust you'?
  

  All smiles after our second and final dressage test at the Makeover.

• The greatest lessons sometimes evolve from a tough warm-up. Blueberry handled the atmosphere of the Rolex Stadium brilliantly, but we did have a bobble in our first schooling session on Monday, several days before our competition on Thursday. We were running through our test and were just passing the judge's booth when someone dropped something inside the grandstand. It sounded like something heavy, maybe a folding table, making a big, echoey boom. I watched Blueberry's ear move towards it, process, and ignore the sound … but unfortunately, about two steps later, it was time for me to ask for a left lead canter. I wanted the transition to be sharp, and I rotated my knee about a half inch too far, touching him gently with more spur than heel instead of the other way around. I don't know if it was the sonic boom or the unexpected spur poke, but he took off bucking. It was a short episode and I sat it well, but I did have long enough to think about how much I did not want to fall and have my horse run loose through one of the more famous outdoor arenas in this country.I can't lie – this moment rattled me. I spent two days overanalyzing it, and then I realized that 1) He had almost certainly been reacting out of indignation and not fear 2) He had almost certainly forgotten about it as soon as I sat up, gathered my reins, and taken us through a 20-meter circle still in the canter and 3) I came out of this moment just fine. I didn't even lose a stirrup.

  All along this journey I have doubted myself more than Blueberry – am I a good enough rider to teach him this new sport? Do I know him well enough to read his moods and his emotional needs? Am I capable of putting the pieces back together when things go wrong? And thanks to our amazing support team – my husband, my trainer, my barn friends – I came away from that schooling session eventually recognizing that my horse has faith in me, and I should, too. (It helped that after a couple of days of long workouts and daily walks around the park, he was also probably too tired for a repeat.) This is something that I know will come up again and again. Unshakable confidence doesn't grow overnight, but it does come through repeated good experiences, and I know Blueberry can give me those.

The post The Blueberry Bulletin Presented By Equine Equipment: Lessons From The Thoroughbred Makeover appeared first on Horse Racing News | Paulick Report.

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For those who aren't familiar, the Retired Racehorse Project's Thoroughbred Makeover is a training competition open to recently-retired off-track Thoroughbreds. Much like the Kentucky Derby, you're only eligible to do it for one year, because the purpose is to show off how much Thoroughbreds can learn in the first ten months or so of training for a new sport or 'discipline.' There are ten different horse disciplines running at the Makeover, and you may pick one or two to compete in. Blueberry and I will be competing in dressage, so the format for us is that we will perform two tests – a prescribed test which we must memorize and replicate as accurately as possible, and a freestyle where we have five minutes to ride in whatever sequence or pattern we choose to show off what he has learned. We'll get to do this in the Rolex Stadium, which is a giant arena with plenty of distractions so he'll also need to be calm and focused in order to do well. Our placing is determined by our combined score from the two rides.

The top five scores from each horse sport will return for a finals round to determine the winner from each discipline. Then, an overall winner is chosen from the various horse sports, with the judges favoring the horse who has proven the best example at their chosen second career.

While we have a few things we'll be practicing in our last two weeks, I think we're as ready as we can be. Reporters always grumble a little in the last days before the Derby as the field's trainers all give us very much the same quotes morning after morning. Their work is mostly done by those last few days. They're hoping to keep their horses happy and sound; you can acclimate them to the new track, you can school them in the paddock, but you're either almost ready to run 1 ¼ miles or you aren't. If you aren't, you're already out of time. There's not much else for a trainer to say in that situation, but it makes for boring copy. As a rider though, I get it.

Likewise, we will school in the big stadium, and we will practice making our trot-to-halter sharper, our right lead canter departs smoother and more correct…but the big pieces are in place. Since we began training in late April, Blueberry has gone to two shows as a non-competing entry just to check out the environment and four shows as a competitor. He has performed four different tests a total of six times, including one we'll do at the Makeover. He has seen chaotic show environments and spent a night away from home, handling all of that with the ease I'd expect from a horse who witnessed busy racing barns and spent lots of time on the road during his race career.

My conditions for whether we'd attend the Makeover were always two-fold: He must be sound and healthy (so far so good, but cross your fingers his front shoes stay on), and I must feel I've mentally prepared him for what the competition requires of him. I feel like I've accomplished the latter, which is an enormous task in itself.

There are hundreds of horses and riders coming from all around the country to compete at the Makeover, and nearly 100 pairs in my dressage class alone. I'm a competitive person, but I'm also a realist – our goals for this event aren't about where we finish, because we're not likely to appear in the finals. We'll be facing professional riders with horses who started their training months before us; while I believe that Blueberry is athletic and has a lot of potential in dressage, there will also be horses with more raw talent here than us.

And all of that is fine. Because we've already won.

An evolution of Blueberry's body condition and muscling through this year

In the five months we've had together, he has completely changed jobs and made it look easy. He has completely changed the way he uses his muscles, and built muscle in new places, keeping his little ears pricked even when I know I'm asking him to do something challenging. When we ride down the center line of a dressage ring at a show, a switch flips in his mental energy. With no previous experience, he somehow knows when he is competing, despite the fact his competitors no longer run alongside him. He stands patiently in the wash rack at home or the trailer at the show grounds like a horse who has done this all for years. He lets me kick my feet out of the stirrups in an open grass field and carries me carefully, allowing me to wobble as I work on my core strength and balance. He walks through puddles and over tarps, trots through ground pole exercises, and calmly ignores it when his friends in a nearby pasture start galloping and bucking while we're trying to finish up a schooling session. In many important ways, Blueberry is so advanced for a 4-year-old in this stage of training.

My mare, though I love her, was a tough ride. He has made dressage fun for me for the first time. He has taught me that patience can be rewarded. He has helped me retrain my own muscles to ride more correctly and quietly. He has given me so much confidence. And it's all just the beginning.

The Makeover was a bucket list event for us, but it'll only cap off our very first season together. We plan to have many more, with new goals. The way we'll ride a Training Level test in two weeks will be very different from the way we ride it in another year. But when we come down the center line to salute the judge, I will be so incredibly proud to present him. However he compares to everyone else, he is an absolute champion to me.

The post The Blueberry Bulletin Presented By Equine Equipment: With Makeover Two Weeks Away, This OTTB Is Already A Winner appeared first on Horse Racing News | Paulick Report.

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Blueberry is by Uncle Mo, out of a graded stakes-winning mare. He had the mind of a racehorse, and we're told he showed such impressive speed in the mornings, his training team suggested he be nominated to stakes races at Woodbine before he'd even made a start. We joke sometimes about our “underachiever” who cost $400,000 as a yearling and won a little over $4,000 in return.

But the reality is, there's a little air of disappointment when racing people are asked about OTTBs. Many are eager to support aftercare in word and in deed, but there's often a wistful air if you ask them about a specific horse that has left their operation for a second career. 'Oh yes,' they may say. 'It's a shame they didn't work out.'

I get it; no one spends six figures in stud fees, or pays an Eclipse Award-winning trainer's day rates hoping to find out their horse is slow, or injury-prone, or briefly brilliant but eventually flat. Everyone wants to win the Kentucky Derby. Everyone wants to catch lightning in a bottle. Perhaps it's good that so many people in this sport wake every day with these stars in their eyes, continuing to breed, sell, buy, train, and care for the thousands of horses who support so many livelihoods. Everyone who has a role in a racehorse's life is subject to back-breaking work, long hours, lost money, and chasing sleep. There wouldn't be an industry to employ us all if we didn't have crazy dreams to make all of that worthwhile.

But the reality, which I know people understand just as keenly, is that there will be many more horses like Blueberry than American Pharoah. When I wrote about the challenges of aftercare in late 2019, 28 percent of Thoroughbreds born between 2005 and 2014 never even made it to the races. One Australian study found that about 40 percent of that country's racing population retired each year, with only 10 percent of those heading off to breeding careers. The 2020 American foal crop is estimated to be 19,010, but there were only 99 Grade 1 races held in North America last year – it's just a matter of logic that some horses will have a career on a breeding farm waiting them, but most of them will not.

The last few months of under saddle work with Blueberry have been a joy. I tell people that he makes me look a lot smarter than I am, because the level of dressage we're working on now is physically easy for him. Our trainer, Stephanie Calendrillo, told me at one point that she loves a horse who loves to work, who asks her when she encourages them to lift their backs and soften their jaws, 'How high do you want me to lift?' She said Blueberry does it for you and then asks 'Oh sorry, was that enough? Do you need me to do more?'

He loves going to work, but he's smart about it. I pulled him out of his stall for a morning ride this week – his first in a couple of weeks – and where others might have expended calories on exuberant bucks and hops, he was immediately quiet, focused, responding to the slightest twitch of my rein or heel. He does not waste energy (if anything, he can trend towards 'sleepy' rather than quick), and believes with all his heart he is a professional who has Done All Of This Before even when he hasn't.

Having known his mother, I'd hoped when I adopted him that he would have this mindset. I did not know, until about May when he began ground driving walk/trot/canter, how he moved, beyond having a very impressive walk at the Fasig-Tipton Saratoga Sale in 2018. In his first months with me, he was on 24-hour turnout while he recovered from some minor ligament desmitis and we awaited a stall and better weather at my trainer's main property. When I saw him stretch out at a trot and felt his floaty canter for the first few times, I used a few four-letter words. I hadn't just adopted a nice horse, I'd adopted a really nice horse.

I'm excited to bring him to the Thoroughbred Makeover next month, but I also recognize that it's just our first show season goal. There will be other seasons after this one, and I think he's just going to get better with time.

'I'm not surprised,' Stephanie told me. 'He's well-bred, and class is class, no matter what you're doing with them.'

Blueberry warming up at his second dressage show in July, where he would win his Intro C class and finish second in his Intro A class

I think it's time we change the conversation about these, the vast majority of the Thoroughbred foals born in this country each year. There were 27,700 races held in North America, which means there were fewer than 27,700 winners, but that doesn't mean that every horse who didn't win a race, or who found a non-breeding second career has failed – they were just a predictable part of the statistical picture of competitive racing.

By extension, we can also reframe the successes of the racing connections for those horses. Part of the goal of breeding Thoroughbreds is to create an athlete, and breeders Jay and Christine Hayden did that. One of the goals of a commercial consignor is to be a source for Thoroughbreds with a lot of potential, and Cara Bloodstock achieved that in selling him. One of the goals for responsible owners is to be caring stewards of their horses' welfare, and Godolphin did that, backing off on his training at the first sign of trouble and providing me a sound horse with no limitations on performance. One of a trainer's worries is ensuring that they keep their horses physically and also mentally sound, and Johnny Burke and Brad Cox ensured their staff preserved Blueberry's kind impression of humans, allowing me a relaxed 4-year-old gelding who sometimes gets groomed by my trainer's 4-year-old little girl.

Horses with second careers are simply those who found renewed purpose in a different job. When humans do this, it's called resilience. Let's give our OTTBs the same credit for finding their calling.

The post The Blueberry Bulletin Presented By Equine Equipment: My OTTB Did Not Fail appeared first on Horse Racing News | Paulick Report.

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Like a lot of other people, I've spent a lot of time this week absorbing the ongoing coverage of gymnast Simone Biles and her decision to withdraw from several Olympic events. Her choice has meant different things to different people, and has been a jumping off point for discussions about mental health, athlete image, and the unfathomable pressure surrounding Olympians. What I have found most interesting – and most understandable – was her discussion of the phenomenon she was experiencing that led to her decision.

As Biles has explained, she was not simply discouraged by a less-than-perfect performance early in the team competition: she was experiencing something gymnasts call “the twisties.” The twisties are apparently a phenomenon where a gymnast suddenly loses track of their position in the air, having no idea where the floor is in relation to their body. It's something many of them experience at some point, and apparently there is no straightforward cure. They have to break down their routines into smaller, simpler pieces and hope the feeling dissipates. Some move past it, and some can't. The twisties are more likely to happen in times of stress, and of course spur their own kind of stress. Imagine how terrifying it is to suddenly realize you may come crashing down out of the air onto your head because you don't know if your feet are pointed at the floor or the ceiling.

I can't pretend to know what it's like to be the greatest gymnast of all time, but I do think there's some degree of constructive delusion that's required for any dangerous, athletic endeavor. Biles knows that (particularly with her unique and difficult skills) she could end up dead or paralyzed if one of her routines goes wrong, but she must go out every time and suspend her awareness of the fact in order to do it successfully. Riding horses (at any level) is like that, too. You have to be aware that at any moment, the 1,000-pound beast beneath you could make today your last. But if you ride like you know it, you're going to make it more likely to happen, so you have to pretend that the stakes are low.

As Blueberry has advanced in his dressage training, I've had a lot of people ask me whether we're going to begin eventing once we get through the Retired Racehorse Project's Thoroughbred Makeover in October. I made the switch from riding hunters to eventing when I got my draft cross mare years ago. The horse loved it and I'm never sure whether I did or not.

When I was younger, I had no fear over fences. I jumped school ponies with sometimes reckless abandon through rollback turns and over skinnies. I was wary of a horse with a dirty stop, but not afraid, happy to push for a long takeoff or hold for a difficult turn. Then, in one of my first rides schooling a horse by myself, I had a crash. I was 18 and on board a willing little mare who had a lot of spunk. I spotted a skinny fence in a tough spot in the outdoor arena and thought, 'You know, I bet that's even harder if I jump it the opposite way from what we do in our lessons.'

I had good, forward energy coming out of the very difficult turn I'd plotted for us. I saw a good spot. I did not see that there was no ground line on the jump coming from this direction. Without a pole on the ground to help create depth perception for her, the well-meaning mare saw the wrong take-off point, and the wrong height. She launched into the air a solid one and a half strides early, high enough that I had time to realize that something was wrong. I realized we were hurtling through the air way too high, returning to the ground in the general vicinity of the jump standard. We were going to fall. We were both going to fall. We were going to fall on top of the jump. And we did.

We were lucky – we hit the rails instead of the standard, and they collapsed under us. The horse hit the ground and tossed me clear of her. She crushed the rails but did not get them tangled between her legs, as I've seen horses do in similar falls. She ended up with a few scrapes on her knees, and I took the skin off my arms and face. Thankfully, the mare moved on in about a day, once again attacking fences with no fear. But I couldn't stop remembering the suspension of that constructive delusion. I realized how it felt to have made a mistake, lost control, and thought I was about to be seriously hurt as a result.

So far, Blueberry is progressing well in his blossoming dressage career. Photo by Joe Nevills

I've never quite let it go, even all these years later. My mare, Jitterbug, does not frankly care much about my anxiety and loves jumping so much she has covered for the many moments when I have frozen, unable to figure out where our bodies are in space, how many strides we have left, paralyzed in my own loop of fear. My legs come off her sides, my upper body curls forward and I forget to breathe. For a lot of horses, that's a really mixed message about whether you actually want them to jump or not. It comes and goes – sometimes I can tackle the most wicked bending line, and other times I have a mental breakdown over a crossrail. I can navigate a course; I was trained well before my accident. The trouble is, once you look into the face of your own vulnerability, it can be hard to access the muscle memory that lets you actually do the thing. The brain is trained to hang onto traumatic experiences so that you won't repeat them, and you don't get to pick and choose what to delete and when.

I worry that Blueberry may not be as resilient as my mare. Is it fair to someday ask him to learn to do this, knowing that I'm an unreliable partner on a jumper course? Will I train him to be fearful? He has the heart so many people rave about in off-track Thoroughbreds – eager to please, happy and trusting of whatever I ask him to do. I don't want to wreck that. I also don't want him to miss out on the opportunity to do something he may really enjoy, or deny myself the chance to work through my fear and enjoy something I used to be good at.

As long as we've got the Makeover in our sights, it's a moot point. He has made a fantastic start in his dressage career, winning two of three classes we've entered at local schooling shows and picking up a second place ribbon. We have lots to improve upon before October however, and there wouldn't be much time to work in baby crossrails even if we wanted to. At some point though, I'll have to decide whether I want to face my fears again.

The post The Blueberry Bulletin Presented By Equine Equipment: The Mental Side Of Riding A Young OTTB appeared first on Horse Racing News | Paulick Report.

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Horse racing is a sport predicated on comparisons – both of horses actively competing against each other and those generations apart. For some years, Racing Twitter loved nothing more than to pit two greats from different eras against each other in a theoretical race (Man o' War vs. Secretariat is the one that used to make the rounds) and ask which one would have won. It's a question people still love to ask jockeys and trainers who have been lucky enough to work with more than one top-level runner. The interviewee almost never has a very stunning or insightful answer and I frankly think that's because it's a ridiculous question.

As someone who rides, I have a keen sense for what unique individuals horses can be and that's probably why I've never found these comparisons all that interesting. Great horses are no more similar to each other than mediocre ones, so a lot of it has seemed like comparing apples, oranges, and bananas for me.

And yet, I find myself doing exactly the same thing in my own riding life.

Although I've been riding my whole life, Blueberry is just the second horse who has been my own. My first is an opinionated Percheron/Thoroughbred cross mare named Jitterbug, who I have written about here before. She was a neglect case in her youth, essentially feral until the age of three. I began working with her when she was five and unbroke. While teaching her to carry a saddle and rider was surprisingly easy, it took years for her to become a reliable mount with a solid walk/trot/canter who could reasonably be said to stand for the farrier, bathe, tie, clip, load – the most basic list of skills you see in most sale ads. She has been a challenging ride, made more challenging by the fact I encountered her at a time I was retraining my hunt seat to dressage.

We have accomplished a lot together when I think about where she started – a buggy-eyed, rank individual of Too Much Weight and Too Much Brain, shuddering in the back of her stall the fall morning I first met her more than a decade ago. We've competed successfully in horse trials, combined tests, dressage and jumper classes; we've hacked many miles in the local parks and on hunter paces; she is now reliable enough to carry children around, as long as they have no ego at all and tell her how pretty she is. I cannot pretend that she has always been easy or good for me as a rider. Flatwork sessions on late nights under the arena lights have sometimes ended in frustrated tears. She's bigger than me, and she will never unlearn that. We know each other so well, we crawl into each other's brains and play chess over 20-meter trot circles. A lot of effort goes into minimal improvements in our dressage training, but I have to admit there were many times I had doubted she would be rideable at all so perhaps I should take what I can get.

Jitterbug is now 17, and Blueberry's arrival in my care after his retirement in November was impeccably timed. Jitterbug is partially leased by a kind family who ask relatively little of her, and she and I needed a break from pushing each other's buttons. As I've brought Blueberry along under saddle these last two months, it's been hard not to think about all the positive qualities he had that the big mare … well … doesn't. (A work ethic, for example.)

The author with the big mare

I'm trying to reframe this way of thinking, as I don't think it's totally fair to the OG. So instead, I've been trying to think about the lessons one horse has taught me in order to prepare me for her polar opposite.

• A horse with a good mind is worth their weight in gold. Mentality was more important to me than anything else when I began thinking about my next riding partner, and that's what attracted me to Blueberry. Jitterbug has kept me safe through fireworks shows, rogue wildlife, loose horses flying by us at horse shows, and all manners of klutzy moments as I've led her to and from the field in icy mud. So far, Blueberry has shown similar wisdom, tuning out galloping pals in neighboring paddocks on late evenings in the arena, staring placidly at loose horses at shows (it's a jungle out there) and learning to ignore a Most Unsettling Power Saw. He's an athletic little thing, but even if he moved like a giraffe, I'd know I was safe. As I get older, I have come to appreciate that I do not bounce so well when I hit the ground, and as such I value a horse that will avoid any unnecessary gravity checks.

• At some point, if you chose well, your developing horse will outclass you. This discovery with Jitterbug came when she progressed from smaller fences to three-foot monsters and I realized suddenly that all that talk about a tight lower leg was not a suggestion based on aesthetics but practicality. That was several years into our journey together. In true OTTB fashion, Blueberry learns new things quickly both mentally and physically, so it was a matter of weeks before he went from doing the drunken sailor/baby horse wobbles around corners in the arena to proudly holding himself up. While he was getting stronger, I was staying basically the same and as soon as he was capable of taking bigger, more upright strides, I started looking like a beginner. Floppy lower legs, a wobbling core, weak wrists – it's all I can see when I watch video of us working together. I suspect all riders hate watching their own equitation but I'd forgotten just how much I hate it. I think I'd assumed I had more time to develop myself and now we're waiting on my fitness level to catch up to the 4-year-old greenie.
• The answer to this is always to drop your stirrups and suffer through as much posting trot as you can. This is tougher once you get a horse with a Thoroughbred-sized stride, by the way. I hate this truth, but I can't escape it.
• Smart horses will learn from you every moment, even when you aren't trying to teach them things. I can no longer blame my horses for immediately running out of gas after a nice transition from canter to trot. I apparently am so relieved to have kept a consistent position from one kind of bouncing gait to another that I immediately become a wet noodle, inadvertently suggesting 'You know, this is a great time for a nap.' All this time I had blamed the half Perch for halting a few steps after a lovely canter, and in fact I am the lazy one. Sorry, Jitter.
• You're playing the long game here. It's easy to become discouraged when considering the above, especially when you're an amateur rider like I am, fitting in lessons and training rides around the edges of a full-time job. It's easy to feel like you're behind where you could or should be. Jitterbug has taught me though, that any real progress worth measuring takes place over months and years. I hope Blueberry and I will be partners for many years to come, and that means each of us will have periods of rapid progress and plateaus, both physical and mental. Yes, he seems like an easy ride right now, but we will have our struggles eventually. That's just life with horses. The more important thing will be looking at how far we've come, and working through those challenges as a team.

The post The Blueberry Bulletin Presented By Equine Equipment: Lessons From A Draft Cross To An OTTB appeared first on Horse Racing News | Paulick Report.

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I spent a lot of time this winter staring at my new OTTB grazing in the field with a furrowed brow, trying to decide how I felt about his appearance. (Fortunately, Blueberry is the type of horse who easily tunes out distractions and grew used to me squinting at him with my head tilted to one side.) I can never decide if he's just a hair lighter than I want him to be or if the only real problem is that I'm too used to looking at my draft cross mare.

He has been easier to keep weight on than I would have guessed when I got him in late November, and he kept his slick coat and topline until just about January. In February, we got several rounds of ice, snow, and frigid temperatures and whatever muscle he had at the track evaporated as he was outside 24/7 and not yet under saddle. He was never thin exactly; just, as I kept telling my husband, “ratty.” He grew a scraggly, thin winter coat which also added to his somewhat bedraggled aura. We'd pulled his shoes in an effort to toughen his soles, and every time he'd take a short step over the driveway after a trim, I'd flinch even though he'd walk, trot and gallop around his paddock soundly.

Still, he was happy enough, bright-eyed, ate and drank plenty, and plodded along for our walks up and down the hilly paddock lanes. I knew, logically, he was healthy and doing well for a horse who had gone from the track to turnout at the start of a Kentucky winter. What I discovered during this period though, was that I was uncomfortable with the “ugly duckling” phase.

Blueberry encounters a crossrail on his first day at the new farm, early April

I am fortunate to have an OTTB expert in our trainer, Stephanie Calendrillo. She trains and resells off-track horses and will be headed to her third Thoroughbred Makeover this year with eventing star Dispatcher. Most of her clients' horses are also OTTBs, so she's used to managing the transition from track to arena. Don't worry about this, she told me. It's normal for a horse's body to change when he goes from track to pasture, but it'll change again when he begins under-saddle work, and it'll happen so quickly it will surprise you.

A lot of my writing on the Paulick Report is in our Horse Care section, where we try to educate readers about veterinary and management topics. Often, time is a key component to healing an injury, managing a chronic condition, or improving a horse's fitness. The unspoken aspect of this of course is that a horse isn't going to look perfect every day of their lives. As long as you're making progress toward your goal and are using good, expert guidance, an ugly duckling phase is unavoidable. Until I had Blueberry, I hadn't thought about that before. My draft mare was quite a challenge in her early days, but her issues were more behavioral than they ever were aesthetic because she has feet like hickory, is impervious to foolish outside influences like pathogens, and gets fat on air. I spend more time trying to get weight off her than on, and while she's always been round, no one has ever worried about whether she was being looked after. All I could think, looking at Blueberry's somewhat hollowed-out neck in March was, 'If I saw that horse, I'd wonder a little bit about what was going on there.'

After we moved him to Stephanie's main facility in April and began more intensive ground and under-saddle work, we were surprised at how quickly he became stronger, how fast he built up fitness at the trot and later, the canter. We added protein and rice bran oil to his diet to help him keep up with his new workload and improve his coat and skin. When he didn't shed his winter coat (even in late April) I finally had him clipped about two weeks into his new workout plan and lo, there was a slight topline there. We added front shoes, and when he'd still have the odd tender day, we added pads and his feet are growing quick and strong.

Blueberry in late May, under saddle during a schooling session at the Kentucky Horse Park

Then the spring rains came, and with them, some rain rot. I tried a little of this and that, over-the-counter lotions and soaps mainly. Then there were the hives, tiny little ones that didn't seem to itch or hurt, but which blanketed his neck and shoulders, then his back, then his rump and legs. We tried corticosteroids and antihistamines and the hives gave way to little crusty bumps like rain rot from hell. I tried new over-the-counter lotions, and it didn't seem to yield. He looked a mess, but at least a reasonably athletic mess. At last, we found the solution – baby oil to soften the scabs, which are now nearly gone, and a diluted alcohol solution on healed areas where water from baths and thunderstorms will drip, encouraging bacteria to fester (down the legs, down the rump and sides). A slick summer coat is growing in, a shiny, brilliant reddish brown – a tribute to his mother.

Even though he's improving now, I know this is a step on the journey. Stephanie tells me that OTTBs often spend a full year sometimes adjusting to new diets, routines, pasture compositions, weather, working different muscles from what they did on the track. It's not that they aren't healthy or functional during that time, just that they're going to change. He's starting to fill out into the horse I hoped I'd have one day, but I know these journeys aren't always linear. He may encounter some new need or struggle at some stage, and I now feel I can treat it as a learning process – and remember to be patient with us both.

The post The Blueberry Bulletin Presented By Equine Equipment: For Young OTTBs, The Only Constant Is Change appeared first on Horse Racing News | Paulick Report.

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If you like a good OTTB training series, check out our Thoroughbred Makeover Diaries series, which tracks Jonathan Horowitz on his road to the 2021 Retired Racehorse Thoroughbred Makeover here.

Although I have spent many years writing about off-track Thoroughbreds (OTTBs), working professionally with on- and off-track Thoroughbreds, and cheering on friends with their OTTBs at horse shows, Blueberry is the first Thoroughbred who has been all mine.

When I took an internship and later a part-time job at the Secretariat Center some 13 years ago, the whole notion of working with off-track racehorses was somewhat different. Many people with OTTBs believed they needed to “restart” them, taking them back to the very beginning of training and almost rebreaking them to saddle, as if the experience would be entirely new and overwhelming for the horse otherwise. Now, from what I understand, the philosophy has shifted – it's best to capitalize on what the Thoroughbred already knows. They have been ridden before, they've trailered frequently, and they've been groomed, bathed, clipped and handwalked extensively through their lives. This isn't the same as starting a green horse, and the training trajectory shouldn't be the same.

Until now, my education as a horse owner comes from a Percheron/Thoroughbred cross mare named Jitterbug who I started under saddle when she was five years old and eventually brought through the lowest levels of eventing, dressage, and jumpers. She was a case who had to be taken from the ground up. Jitterbug was a formerly feral horse who spent her first three years with little to no human contact, and that has drastically impacted the way she has progressed in her training. Accepting a saddle and rider was no problem for her; taking instructions like 'Trot' and 'Turn' was a personal affront. She reminded me loudly and often that she was bigger, smarter, and faster than I am, and that working with me was always her choice and not her obligation. Some of this is down to being a mare, but a lot of it is down to having grown up independent of human kindness or authority. It took years and lots of help of my esteemed trainer Stephanie Calendrillo of Graystone Stable to even begin trotting crossrails, let alone polish her into the productive citizen she is today.

I already knew that Blueberry would have a different concept of the horse/human relationship and as we have begun our early ground work, he indeed tries very hard to do what he is asked. We've learned to lunge, ground drive, long line, walk forwards and backwards over poles, and have conquered minor skepticism of tarps, plastic, puddles, tires, umbrellas, and pool noodles – all with great ease. I think part of his success, besides his very hands-on beginning, was that I entered into each new task with some idea of what aspects could be new or unsettling for him, but behaved as though I expected him to be familiar with the new task.

Most racehorses haven't been crosstied in a grooming stall before, but this is common practice in riding stables. Almost all of them have become used to standing quietly while tied to the back wall in their stalls in the mornings, though. The main difference, I reasoned, would be pressure on two sides of the halter instead of one, but the principle would be the same – Blueberry should know that this was time to stand quietly, and that if he hit the slack on one tie, he could move himself easily to relieve that tension. On our first afternoon, I clipped him in, ensured the quick release hardware worked, and pulled the barn door closed just in case he became upset and broke out. Then I went to work grooming him as though this was perfectly ordinary. The first time he stepped to one side and felt the tension increase, I gently tapped his shoulder to direct him to move sideways to create slack. From there, I let him figure it out—and he did. We'd spend short periods in the grooming stall at first, and gradually increased our time there, sometimes taking a break from grooming for me to put equipment away so he would see that this is a time for relaxation.

Blueberry on his first day of long line work

We've progressed this way with each new obstacle or task, and through a combination of a great brain and past experience, he has met every expectation with minimal confusion and almost no anxiety.

That doesn't mean my years of study have left me without fault, of course. I had some idea of what to expect from a retired Thoroughbred based on my past experience, I thought, but I believed I came into the process relatively free of faulty preconceptions about what the experience would be like.

Well. Horses have a way of teaching you things about yourself that you didn't realize you needed to know, and mine has already taught me that I came in with a lot of management stereotypes in the back of my brain. Here are a few of the ones Blueberry pointed out by proving them wrong:

• Thoroughbreds will struggle to gain weight. Blueberry arrived in late November with some race fitness to him still, about four weeks after his last breeze. For my purposes, I wanted him to gain a little weight but he didn't need much. He was going onto 24-hour turnout, and I assumed that with winter looming it would be an uphill battle to improve his condition even a little bit. In roughly a month, he looked fantastic with two modest grain meals a day. Granted, he lost some ground again during the extreme cold and precipitation in February, but made it up again similarly easily.
• Thoroughbreds may struggle in extreme cold if they enter turnout mid-winter with a slick coat. I got a light sheet for Blueberry in December but found my draft mare's clothes were way too big for him so I had didn't have a ton of different blanket choices to work with at first. I worried about this — would he shiver and shake without a puffy medium weight and neck cover? No, as it turned out. In fact, he runs warm and even before his winter coat grew in, I had to be more cautious about letting him get overheated with a blanket than too cold without one.
• Barefoot Thoroughbreds will immediately and constantly abscess and chip their feet, especially in a wet winter. Blueberry arrived barefoot and my plan is to keep him that way as long as I can to let his soles toughen up before he begins under saddle work in another couple of weeks. So far we've had one bruise in four months and while I anticipate he'll need shoes when he starts real work, that's a much better record than I thought we'd have.
• Horses, including Thoroughbreds, are bonkers for treats. Did not imagine this was a misconception, but Blueberry tells me with great authority that only red and white mints are treats. Carrots, apples, horse cookies, green and white mints, and even candy canes (yes, that's right – a mint in a different shape) are not edible and must be thrown out of a grain pan immediately.

I believe that no matter what type of work you're doing, horse training is a two-way street: if the horse isn't also teaching you something, you're probably doing it wrong. So far, Blueberry is a patient, kind teacher and I hope to be the same for him as we progress in our journey together.

For more of Underscore's OTTB journey, follow his Facebook page.

The post The Blueberry Bulletin: A Young OTTB Learns His First Lessons In Retirement, And Teaches A Few appeared first on Horse Racing News | Paulick Report.

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