Thoroughbred Logic, Presented by Kentucky Performance Products: Fight Club
“I swear they know. They know when they’re up for sale, or people are coming to trial ride them. They know when there’s a big show coming. They know when your bank account has never seen worse days. And then they start up the fight club again …”
Welcome to the next installment of Thoroughbred Logic. In this weekly series, Anthropologist and trainer Aubrey Graham, of Kivu Sport Horses, offers insight and training experience when it comes to working with Thoroughbreds (although much will apply to all breeds). This week ride along as Aubrey shares her logic on the importance of turnout and socializing… even if it means a little fight club might ensue here or there.
The first rule of fight club is…
Whatever, my geldings necessitate that it needs to be discussed. The Thoroughbred Makeover is coming up this next week and I swear these kids know exactly what they’re doing. About a week ago, I was teaching a clinic in Massachusetts and my working student sent me a photo — one dark leg with a clear small ding from someone else’s hoof alongside the cannon bone. Neil. Dammit. He’s set to ship to KY with me this coming Monday and we’re, of course, woefully unprepared. The next day the leg was good and puffy so wraps and sweats and all the healing juju it was.
Good thing a week later he’s all healed up and still able to jump like this. Dude, the rail is way down there! Screenshot from video by Izzy Gritsavage.
The funny part is this: knowing that field, and knowing that two of the three horses in there are headed to the Retired Racehorse Project’s Thoroughbred Makeover (both are getting the lion’s share of my attention, but having to share it) and and knowing that the one who is not going is the one who is barefoot… I looked at Ramen (Plamen) and went, “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” He pricked his ears all friendly like and got round eyed. “Who me? No….”
“What? Wasn’t me.” Ramen (Plamen). Photo by author.
Two days ago, I walk out to grab Ramen to take him for a hack and his left front has no definition from the knee to the ankle. There’s a solid scuff, kick on the medial side. I’m too tired to be surprised, so I just look at Neil, who also just looks perfectly plussed to have attention. “What?”
Horses.
Worse… geldings.
Even worse, that field is quiet. Like always suspiciously quiet. They graze happily along the fence lines, try to flirt with the mares, and otherwise do not generally scuffle. I mean this is not the field with Needles (Needles Highway), Koops, Rhodie (Western Ridge) and Wolf (Louisiana Moon). Those boys are like some frat house on homecoming weekend at an Ivy League School. They’re all super smart attractive athletes, and when they all get together, they’re likely going to do the dumbest thing they can think of when they’re pretty sure no one is looking (no offense to smart, well-behaved members of Greek organizations… my horses are just hooligans).
Ok, sometimes they’re ridiculous even when folks are looking. Wolf (Lousiana Moon), Needles (Needles Highway) and Rhodie (Western Ridge) off on a high speed galavant. Photo by author.
When I turn mares out together, I generally only hold my breath for the first two days. There is usually a fair amount of squealing, the occasional well-aimed kick, and then they settle into a contented relationship that looks either like, “You’re my new best friend, let’s quietly graze together” or “This is my bubble. Break it and I’ll break you.” But the mares usually are good after that. There are clear boundaries and very little fuss and scuffle.
Tavia (Tiz Octavia) surviving her first day of turnout with Ria Formosa by being angelic. Photo by author.
My geldings on the other hand? That’s a whole other ball of wax or some such strange metaphor. They’re out there stealing fly masks (the mare’s wouldn’t stoop to that level), swinging them over their heads (the mares just roll their eyes), galloping as a big herd just because WEEEEEEE its fun. And you know, they’re Thoroughbreds, so when they get going, someone has to try to win… and now we’re 30+mph in the field, regardless of whether the grass is wet or dry. And when I have to do field introductions, I do it slowly, but there usually is still a fair amount of hazing. As I bring them in that day, everyone gets a good once over and I can expect to be washing a few wounds and potentially wrapping a legs for the night.
Crafty Charger, featured above, managed to land himself in five months of stall rest from playing too hard back in 2021-2022. This is how he felt about getting turn out finally. No surprise that now, even in retirement, this goober is shenanigan central and making Ilse Simmon’s job good and complicated. Crafty is still mine, but camping at Ilse’s awesome retirement facility at Simmon’s Sporthorses until I have a place for him up north.
Some would look at this and be like, what? No! Put them all in solitary turnout. Cut off their access to fight club. And while sometimes that is necessary, and often it is a good idea when horses are heading to big shows (ahem, the Makeover) or out for sale, I honestly would rather them be happy. Horses are social. Thoroughbreds are very social. And a happier Thoroughbred is less likely to be ulcer-prone, grumpy under saddle, or rank or difficult to handle. So I do what I can to make good friend matches in the field and I hope that they keep the shenanigans to a minimum. I mean at least if I have the fields figured out personality-wise, the rough housing is group-appropriate. No one is getting picked on or run off. No one is coming in time and time and time again with the same “we don’t like you” wounds.
Introducing Nolime to the field. Photo by author.
But I swear they know. They know when they’re up for sale, or people are coming to trial ride them. They know when there’s a big show coming. They know when your bank account has never seen worse days. And then they start up the fight club again — in secret, where you don’t see it and can’t break it up. But they come in with a well-placed kick that might go cellulitic or sequester here, a chunk out from their side where their saddle would go, there.
Hell, Needles had a lovely rider coming to try him and of his whole field of the four frat boys, he was the only one who came in with a pretty solid kick to the foreleg that required attention and stack wraps. In fact, Needles has managed to do “dumb” things nearly every time he knows I go to put him up for sale… I know these horses are smart, but this is excessive.
The rowdy field pretending to not live up to that name. Photo by author.
So as we all hustle through the last week of Makeover prep, here’s hoping the goofy wounds and bloody/swollen/generally WTF regalia stay to a minimum and everyone makes it safely to Kentucky. And if anyone invents bubble wrap that these kids can wear in turnout with friends, I’d love to put my whole herd up for sponsorship.
Go ride, folks. And here’s hoping your geldings (and mares) keep their fight club activity and membership to a minimum.
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