4. Stewball
Living in the Rockies, naturalist Joe Hutto saw wildlife every day. Herds of mule deer appeared not far from his house so he approached them slowly since they usually stayed away from humans. He was out every day for over two years when a very nervous doe cautiously approached him. Through Raggedy Ann, the boss of all the others, he gained entry into the herd. It wasn’t long before all the members accepted him. Joe was now a mule deer. Ragtag, Raggedy Ann’s daughter, became pregnant and Joe talked to the soon to be born fawns as he lied down with the mother. This was a special privilege for Joe, who then was accepted by the twins, a buck and his sister Molly. Some people might ask why he had continued doing this and he replied, How could you not? As close as he was to the group, they would scatter when other humans came on the scene.
After a while Hutto knew the deer and they knew him. Boar was the largest buck, but Babe was the male in charge – the dominant one. Blossom was a doe. Mule deer don’t ordinarily groom each other, but Ragtag groomed Joe. Sadness descended on Joe and the deer when Molly’s brother died one night. Ragtag was especially distraught, staying with the young buck, never overcoming her depression. She died too. Molly was alone and then sustained an injury. With winter coming on, she would have a tough time surviving.
Fortunately, Blossom helped out and Molly seemed to do fine. Other deaths followed when a mountain lion killed Bubba, one of the bucks. With hunting season, no deer was safe and hunters killed Babe. Joe identified him and even helped bring Babe onto the hunter’s truck. All the happenings were too much for Joe, since he was a member of the herd. He couldn’t go on in this environment. Mule deer migrate in the spring and before winter. When they return, some don’t come back and that’s what Hutto planned to do. That wasn’t as easy as it sounded.
Mule deer are extremely intelligent with the largest brain of any deer in the world. They also have great challenges including winters with temperatures that can reach 35º below zero. Mountain lions, bears and wolves are predators. Don’t forget the guys with weapons. Deer need protection. Otherwise they’ll soon become extinct. The story of Joe and his herd first aired on PBS on April 16, 2014 in Nature: Touching the Wild. The video link is at pbs.org/wnet/nature/touching-the-wild-touching-the-wild/8679.
A deer more familiar to us is one with a white tail. The trail near my home is the Ellicott Creek Trailway, which I mentioned earlier. It’s for hikers, non-motorized bikers, joggers, skateboarders, cross-country skiers, people pushing youngsters in buggies and those riding Segways. Not always on the trail but in the area are creatures: some fly and others just roam, including white tail deer. They’re beautiful creatures and smart. That’s why these deer are here – people aren’t allowed to shoot them in this place near the University of Buffalo North Campus.
Years ago, deer had more places to inhabit, but then houses, condominiums and business parks were constructed. Those two words in italics are another annoying oxymoron. Deer were uprooted but manage to avoid the bullets of the hunters. During hunting season, they discover great hiding places. When it’s over, they relax and continue living without worries. How do they know when the season began and when it’s over?
Another huge animal that was almost hunted to extinction is the majestic American buffalo. In the middle of the nineteenth century, they numbered in the tens of millions. Some estimated that the number approached 60,000,000 and it was at least half that. The bison co-existed with the Native Americans. The latter hunted the buffalo for food and pelts, but did it environmentally. Towards the end of the century, the American government indiscriminately slaughtered the bison, almost wiping them out. This was done to reduce the food supply of the Native Americans, destroying them as well. It wasn’t bad enough that the colonists took the land of those who were here before them; they signed treaties with the natives, which they soon broke, and forced them to live on reservations. Today, the buffalo population has recovered with about 20,000 – a far cry from what it was. At least they’re not extinct.
Christopher Hogwood is a British musician, writer and conductor, associated with classical music. You may have heard of an animal with the same name. Before dealing with Chris, here are a few facts about pigs. The average life of a pig is about six months, when they weigh about 250 pounds. This has to do with chops, bacon and ham. However, some can live six or seven years, but those are breeders. Because of their size and likelihood of crunching the young sows, many pigs won’t be around more than a few months. Because they’re so huge, very few question where they sleep. Sows probably won’t find any enclosure that restricts them. More people get killed each year by pigs than by sharks. The reason should be obvious. If not, the clue is land and water.
Chris was only a baby when adopted by Sy Montgomery and her husband, Howard Mansfield, in Hancock, New Hampshire. He received his name because porcines love classical music and Chris was no exception. He grew slowly, only becoming as large as a cat. Eventually caretakers discovered what was holding him back and soon he grew bigger, as expected. This might have something to do with his voracious appetite. He wasn’t allowed to eat meat – he probably wouldn’t have hesitated at the chance – since he devoured everything else. Citrus and onions he left alone, though. He loved beer, with the local beer guy figuring that based on his weight, it would take two six-packs for him to get drunk. He may have tried weed.
This pig was great at leaving without being detected, although probably not as talented as an actor named Willie Sutton. Like other pigs that have great senses of smell, vision and hearing, Chris was smart. Even when he was smaller, if his enclosure was done with string, he could untie it and leave. Switching to bungee cords still didn’t keep him in. He even figured out the next method of restraint, a complicated bolt. Chris must have used his lips and nose to free himself. One experiment with electric fencing to keep Chris from roaming failed miserably, so a harness was tried, a small one and then one larger. A twenty-foot tether tied to a strong tree gave him freedom and access to roam grass, shade and even a mud swallow. After a short time, Chris the digger made the area resemble a war zone after a bombing. He seemed to love it. Eventually he wound the tether around the tree in such a way that he could free himself from the harness. I told you he was clever.
When he left, he didn’t travel far, only a quarter mile. In his journeys, Chris met many people whom he impressed, even residents who spotted him devouring lettuce – or just about anything else in their gardens. On one occasion, Howard looked out the window and saw a jogger. Then he caught glimpse of a neighbor in a car. Then he saw Chris. Soon he and Sy ran outside. Fortunately, they never had to post bond for him.
It didn’t take long for Chris to recognize his owners. He heard them approaching and was there to greet them. They thought that Chris didn’t know where they lived – he must have known. Howard didn’t want the pig to know because the latter could do a great deal of damage if he entered the home. He could also excavate with his snout – good for preparing a garden, but somewhat messy. Chris was loving, considerate and made friends easily, as you may have guessed. I’m sure he could sense which people were caring and those who weren’t.
Chris’s closeness to Montgomery and Mansfield, both writers, is accounted for by their love of nature and animals. Sy experiences this even when she travels, observing dolphins, tigers and great apes. In Australia on a Chicago Zoological Study trip, she caught sight of emus, who can travel 40 miles an hour. They have no problem demolishing fencing – I wonder from where they learned that. These four-foot tall flightless creatures can hurt visitors, yet, they got along well with Sy as they let her follow and observe them. For this experience and others, she was in a place she loved even though she missed her husband and Chris.
In another of her travels, Montgomery was in the area of the Sundarban’s tigers. These beasts could easily kill a hunter, but she only had a few close calls as they all got along. Maybe the tigers knew she was a friend of the earth. The tiger protected the forest by scaring off the woodsmen so they refrained from cutting down trees. In turn, the shrubs and trees were protection against cyclones while their leaves and roots fed animals that people would take as food. The entire environment was all about balance.
Back home in New Hampshire, Sheriff Ed’s most exciting days were capturing the runaway Chris. Other than that, there wasn’t much crime in town and he may have been bored, but the porker changed matters. The sheriff spotted him and tied a rope around his neck to lead him home. Chris was reluctant to move so Ed decided to wait. Then Chris got moving, leading the sheriff down the road. Fortunately the leader was only moving at a jog – he was no sprinter. A passing driver asked Ed where he was going with Chris. His reply was, He’s going to do whatever he wants.
Sy and Howard lived in a house with renters. Their place also had a few other animals, including egg producing hens and Tess, a border collie who had been mistreated by her owners. The dog was a bit shy, but fit in and reacted well to the environment. When a tenant departed, both Tess and Chris had to give their approval before the new renters moved in. Just the way the new people reacted to them made the decision easy for Sy and Howard. Lilla and her daughters, Jane and Kate, needed a home. Jane and Kate’s love for Chris was all that was needed for the landlords’ approval of the three. At that point, Lilla’s anxiety disappeared since the family had found a great home.
Selinda came to the house with her two dogs, Numskull and Knucklehead – not their real names for security purposes. The three approved of the place and vice versa and soon Sy and Howard had new tenants. Selinda loved gardening and the landlords approved of the idea. She grew lettuce, zucchini, herbs, Swiss chard, beans and red peppers. There was other produce, but amazingly the porcine disposal unit kept away from it. Somehow Chris knew that he’d get clippings and benefits later. He was also the beneficiary of slop buckets from neighbors and restaurants. Donuts, stale baked goods and lasagna were some of the offerings. He wouldn’t grow hungry. Soon, Chris tipped the scales at around 700 pounds. The heaviest pig on record, a Poland China hog named Big Bill, weighed in at 2500 pounds. Montgomery and her husband didn’t want Chris to weigh more than their car, so they figured that 700 was a good number.
One day, friends of the couple, Bobbie and Jarvis, created a laminated sign and placed it on Sy and Howard’s barn. A quote from St. Francis of Assisi said: Not to hurt our humble brethren is our first duty to them, but to stop there is not enough. We have a higher mission: to be of service to them whenever they require it.
Chris loved to eat. It satisfied him. The word, satisfaction, came from the French, to make full. It fit him but also expressed how Howard, Sy and many others felt about what the Chris did to their hearts. Another word beginning with the same letter is success. In Chris’s case it applied to the fact that he escaped for more than fourteen years from the freezer. His life was a success in another way. He was written about in many newspapers. He was a star, giving comfort, happiness and joy to others, even those he never met. They returned this love to him. You can read more about Chris in Sy Montgomery’s amusing book, The Good Good Pig: The Extraordinary Life Of Christopher Hogwood.
Charles Howard was born in the late 1870s in the eastern United States but when he was in his 20s, he moved to San Francisco with 21 cents to his name. Horses were replaced by cars and it wasn’t long before Howard changed his few pennies into thousands of dollars, dealing with the automobile. He was living the life of luxury, even establishing the Charles S. Howard Foundation for children with tuberculosis and rheumatic fever.
In early May while he and his wife Fannie May were away from the ranch, his teenaged son, Frankie, went fishing with friends. On the way home with the lad driving an old truck of his dad, to avoid a huge boulder Frankie wound up flipping the vehicle over into the canyon. Stuck inside the truck, rescuers were too late to save the Howard child. Charles spent months with his grief, something he would never get over. One good thing that resulted was the Frank R. Howard Memorial Hospital opening in Willits in 1928.
When one mentions the word, Sin City, Las Vegas, New York and New Orleans come to mind. Another place not far from Howard’s home is Tijuana, where anything goes. Charles made some trips there but stayed away from gambling, drinking and women. He instead went to the horse races. His friend, George Giannini owned some good racehorses but Howard wasn’t that enthusiastic about them. Charles Doc Strub, a dentist who had played professional baseball, changed Howard’s mind. In 1935, he had a few somewhat talented runners and hired Buster Millerick to train them. The horses Charles assembled weren’t the greatest, but he bought them because no one else did. He wanted them to be winners so he figured he needed to replace his trainer with one who was the best.
Tom Smith talked only on occasion to people and probably saved his voice for the horses. Nonetheless, Smith was a legend, reportedly having chopped off his toe with an ax. It was said that the ax man took the severed foot part from his boot and commented, My Toe. Tom knew horses and Cowboy Charlie Irwin hired him as farrier, trainer and foreman. Irwin was in charge of a stable and ran a Wild West Show and apparently it was raucous. Smith managed a horse named Oriley despite the fact that he was lame. Eventually Smith became the new trainer for Howard.
Charles had some horses and Smith to train them so they needed someone to ride them. You may know of the horrible lives of those who work at Amazon warehouses today – slave labor, minimal pay with no benefits under horrible working conditions – but jockeys’ lives in the early twentieth century weren’t any better, maybe worse. Their pay was low except for the very best ones and all jockeys had to be in top shape. When riding, they didn’t sit on the horse, instead being raised in the air with their feet in the stirrups. Falling off the horse may not have been that common, but many were tossed off the animals, resulting in broken bones and cracked skulls, or worse. Horses weighing upwards of half a ton didn’t make life easier on the track. Jockeys had no insurance so admittance to the hospital could only be done if fellow riders chipped in. They had to weigh from 80 to 120 pounds to make the grade requiring them to almost join the anorexia nervosa society – they ate little and purged. This led to dehydration, hunger, weakness and some bizarre ways of meeting that weight limit. It’s not surprising that many riders hung themselves or used guns to commit suicide.
Johnny Pollard was from a family that if you included his parents, John and Edith, had enough for a baseball team. He was a scrappy boxer who read as many books as he could. In school, he had no respect for his teachers, achieved bad grades but was happy pulling pranks. Becoming a jockey in his teens, a decade later, he was one of the worst at it. Because of the color of his hair, many called him Red. He loved riding but it was a rough life for him; he was often hungry, desperate for money. He was, according to his sister Edie, happy as heck. Possessing a skill to handle the horses, the animals performed for him, especially the rogues. Not making much money, nevertheless he sent cash back to his parents and also gave to others who needed a lift. He didn’t ask to be repaid.
During one workout, Red was hit by a rock or some hunk of dirt dug up by another horse working out. That incident resulted in the permanent loss of sight in his right eye. This secret was kept from people in the business because otherwise, he really wouldn’t be hired to ride the ponies. In August 1936, Johnny was riding in the car of an agent named Yummy when the car hit an object, totaling the vehicle. They wound up at a racetrack in Detroit. It was here that the union of Howard, Smith and Pollard took place.
Seabiscuit was a horse that Smith thought had potential. He was with the Howard crew when Red joined them. Seabiscuit slept a great deal and supplemented his meals with any extras available. He had a mind of his own and couldn’t be pushed. When he wanted to, he could really run, though. Because of his habits, Smith figured the horse needed company. Whiskers the goat didn’t fare well as Smith noticed Seabiscuit shaking his head with Whiskers in his mouth. Pumpkin, another horse, a dog named Pocatell, and Jo Jo, a spider monkey were the companions that Seabiscuit accepted.
The horse learned and was quite intelligent, catching on quickly. Smith spoke to him and Seabiscuit listened. Red did the same with him and felt that with training, he had great potential. In a stakes race in Detroit, Myrtlewood, the best filly in the country, was out front but Seabiscuit was running well. Suddenly he dropped back. When the horse resumed his attempt to catch up, he wound up in fourth place only four lengths behind Myrtlewood. Red found that Seabiscuit possessed courage and real speed. Pollard thought that he could have a champion.
In September the Governor’s Handicap was a big race in Detroit. Seabiscuit had long odds but was close behind Biography. When Pollard saw a hole, he moved his horse into the lead. Professor Paul and Azucar were right behind but Pollard’s horse won the race. At the Santa Anita Handicap, Seabiscuit was out in front but Pollard forgot about the opposition, Rosemont. His partial blindness played a part. At the wire, the two horses were tied. The photo at the finish line would determine the winner. Howard passed out the champagne for everyone, but Rosemont won the event.
The 1930s were a difficult time for many Americans suffering because of the Depression. Radio filled the void as did horse racing. When Seabiscuit raced, the number of listeners tuning in numbered 40 million. At the $15,000 San Juan Capistrano, 45,000 fans crowded into the stands to see this magnificent horse run. At the beginning of the race, Special Agent moved out in the lead with Seabiscuit behind him. By the end of the race, Pollard and the wonder horse cruised to a win by a huge margin.
Howard welcomed the press while Pollard and Smith weren’t that friendly to the media. The pair managed all kinds of tricks to confuse those ink-stained wretches. Grog became a part of the Howard contingent, looking quite a bit like Seabiscuit. Many times Grog was doing some training while the press thought it was Seabiscuit. The media had no idea which horse they were looking at when he ran. Smith and Pollard were having a great time.
Seabiscuit could run but was slowed down by injuries, which affected many thoroughbreds. Heavy rains resulting in muddy footing, weren’t to his liking either. This led to his being scratched from races. This kept him out of the San Carlos Handicap on February 20, 1938, but Pollard was still set to ride Fair Knightess, who did well in the mud. Nevertheless, Red should have called in sick. The amount of danger on the track increased as the number of horses in the event grew larger. On that day, the forelegs of Pollard’s horse were kicked out from under her. The jockey went down and Fair Knightess wound up on top of him. Besides having his chest crushed, Red had other injuries and was barely conscious when he was rushed to St. Luke’s Hospital in Pasadena. With time, Pollard healed but doctors offered that he wouldn’t ride for a year or more.
In May 1938, Red was riding on Fair Knightess at Belmont Park in New York. Miraculously, both had recovered. At the Handspring Handicap, the jockey and his horse fired out of the gate to a commanding lead and no one could catch them. They were easy victors. It looked like Pollard was ready. It was said that he wouldn’t mount a horse for a year but he had recovered from his injuries in three months. The next month as a favor to his friend Bert Blume, he agreed to work out Modern Youth. The horse was soon out of control and smashed into a barn, seriously injuring Johnny.
While Red was slowly recovering, George Woolf did a fine job substituting and winning with Seabiscuit. Despite these victories, the thoroughbred got no respect from the eastern racing establishment. Their champion was War Admiral with whom Howard tried to set up a race. It didn’t work out until November 1, 1938 at the Pimlico Special. Woolf rode Biscuit, but Pollard gave him plenty of advice. Seabiscuit wasn’t given a chance of winning, as War Admiral was favored by every single Daily Racing Form handicapper and 95% of the writers. Over 40,000 fans crowded the racetrack for one of the America’s most historic racing events. They weren’t disappointed – unless they favored the Admiral. Woolf finished in first place, four lengths in front of his opponent.
Pollard was ecstatic as were Howard, Smith and Woolf. Red would heal and ride Seabiscuit again, winning at Santa Anita – something that Howard waited long for. Throughout their time together both Red and his horse had succumbed to numerous injuries, but had never given up. Seabiscuit had a huge following at race arenas as well as on the radio. He broke one record after another and then followed it up with another record-breaking outing. He may have been the greatest thoroughbred of all time.
In 2003, the movie, Seabiscuit starring Elizabeth Banks, Jeff Bridges and Tobey Maguire hit the silver screen. It was nominated for an Academy Award as best picture. I recommend it as well as the book by Lauren Hillenbrand, Seabiscuit: An American Legend. It’s a great story of hope, love and dedication, which is filled with information about the sport, having a few laughs, too.
Zebras are members of the horse family, the African kind. Scientific research has shown that they are black with the white parts being added on. The reason for this combination is to hide and confuse their predators, such as hyenas and lions. It’s great camouflage and also a way for their friends and family to recognize them, especially since each zebra has distinctive color patterns. In the 1979 movie, The Electric Horseman, if Robert Redford came into town riding on a zebra wearing a matching suit, people would have been more surprised by the animal he was riding. You’d also have to ask why he was wearing a suit.
The three species of the animal are the mountain zebra, Grévy’s zebra and the plains zebra, with the first two being endangered. The plains or Burchell’s zebras are the most common. The average lifespan of a zebra is about 25 years although some residing in zoos have lived to be 40. They aren’t solitary but rather social animals that spend time in herds. Grazing together, primarily on grass, they groom one another.
John Byers and his wife Karen spent a few months thoroughly observing and studying pronghorn in the National Bison Range of western Montana. Naturally they encountered other animals but concentrated on the antelope. With a huge stride length, this creature can outrun just about any other animal and at the same time not tire. Moving at 60 miles an hour, it can go from one end of a football field to the other in less than four seconds. Do the math and if you want to be more exact, use three and a half seconds in your calculation for the time.
To study these swift runners, the Byers used tags on their ears and had others on the team, who utilized binoculars. Shortly after giving birth, mothers seemed to be moving around reminiscent of a Chinese fire drill. This was done for a few reasons: to keep predators away from the fawns and to rummage for food. They stayed in an area close to the newborns. When a coyote killed the offspring, the parent behaved as though the fawn were still alive. They did this for a couple days even if only some part of the animal remained. I won’t go into specifics because it’s gross and disgusting, but mothers can tell if a fawn has some infection. She can then produce antibodies to overcome the health problem and pass them on to the young.
As far as who reigned as boss, the earlier a pronghorn was born into a family, the more dominant she was. The same applied to the male, but he dominated over any female. Those at the top also were blessed with reclining privileges – they could lie down before the lesser of the group. As far as an advantage to this order, Byers found that there wasn’t much. In fact, in general those at the bottom lived longer than those who dominated them. Unfortunately, the lowliest were on the outside and more easily available to predators.
The animals grow fast – two and a half pounds in five days. So besides the tags, the observers used this information to determine who was who as well as giving names to the pronghorn based on physical traits. At times this same sprouting led to identification confusion. The Byers expedition had daylight from about five a.m. until ten p.m. in the summer, making for long days. In other times of the year, the day was much shorter and colder too.
To survive the winter, pronghorn need plenty of stored fat. Males have less time to store the energy as they spend a great deal of time chasing the females, who can garner the needed nutrients. As a result, the male only survives about eight years while the female pronghorn manages to last twice that. Winters in Montana are brutal.
John couldn’t help but observe bison in the reserve. Weighing about half a ton – the females weren’t as big – this animal was massive, powerful and fast. One photographer with a disposable camera wanted a closer picture of the animal. She was soon pursued by the buffalo – disposable was the right word here – and was fortunate to suffer some bruises and some broken ribs. She was also rewarded with a citation from a Range officer. She should have known better. Originally, roundup chutes for bison were made of wood. That was until one buffalo moved through the three by twelve plank and left a huge hole. From then on, steel was used.
But getting back to pronghorn, maybe they are jocks, but can they pass the entrance exam? From what I’ve written, you can see that they’re smart and athletic but come on; they certainly won’t get a diploma or even be on the Rams taxi squad. Nonetheless, they’re amazing animals. John A. Byers chronicled the project in his book, Built For Speed: A Year In The Life Of Pronghorn.
In the mid 1970s I bought my first house in Somers, a town in New York State about 45 miles north of New York City. I soon discovered it was in horse country. East of there is more of the same in Connecticut. Kentucky and Virginia are known for raising thoroughbreds. Horseracing is the sport of kings, most likely because it seems to be run by people with money: owners and breeders. The dollars stay within a handful of families and those less affluent have a tough time entering the pack. Of course, there are exceptions, including Christopher Chenery. As a young boy, he and his brothers went barefoot from early spring until fall, but not by choice. His best present at Christmas was a tangerine, but they were a close family and Chris loved horses.
Chenery set out to rise out of poverty and succeeded as very few had done, becoming the head of a few utility companies. He was wealthy but then used the money for his love: horses. Buying large acreage and horses to go with it, he also hired the best people he could to make the ponies champions: breeders, jockeys and trainers.
Just as the dollars stay with a few chosen relatives, the outstanding horses are also related. The best way to form champion racers is by judicious breeding. When a great thoroughbred mare gets together with a male horse that won the Triple Crown, the result should be a winner. That’s why first place finishers seem to have ancestors who achieved the same honor. This has been going on for years.
The foal was born just after midnight on March 31, 1970 in horse country just north of Richmond, Virginia. His mother was a broodmare by the name of Somethingroyal, from the line of Princequillo and Imperatrice. Bold Ruler was the colt’s father, winner of the 1957 Preakness Stakes, member of the Racing Hall of Fame and the leading sire in North America in the years 1963-1969 and 1973. Both parents were from great stock. The union could only produce another winner. At the time, manager Howard Gentry uttered, There is a whooper.
Some of the suggested names for the red colt were Scepter, Royal Line, Games of Chance and Deo Volente. The daughter of Chris Chenery, Mrs. Penny Tweedy, suggested the last two. Miss Elizabeth Ham had been a secretary of diplomat Norman Davis and came up with Secretariat, which became the colt’s name. As he grew, many thought he would be a champion. In his first race at Aquaduct, Paul Feliciano rode him, but finished fourth, after a slow beginning and much bumping. Towards the end of the run, the red horse picked up speed and impressed both Penny and trainer Lucien Laurin.
Secretariat brought home $480 in that first try, but won the second race, winning ten times as much. All the jockeys loved the horse. Lucien wanted Ron Turcotte to ride the horse the next race day but Turcotte was recovering from a horrible accident while riding Overproof, who perished from a heart attack on the track. Ron was out of action for almost a month. For the rest of 1972, Secretariat finished in first place eight times in nine races, being disqualified for some bumping once. Even that was a questionable call. He was some thoroughbred, destined for great things. There were plans for him winning the Kentucky Derby and then capturing the Triple Crown.
Chris Chenery had been hospitalized and then died in January 1973. Penny took over the business since her siblings didn’t want it. Her experience with horses was limited but she knew enough people to succeed. One big problem had to do with a huge estate tax liability. One remedy was to sell off some of the prize horses, but the executive committee thought that wasn’t wise. The alternative chosen was to syndicate Secretariat. For $190,000, interested parties could have the chance to mate their mares with the red horse. At the same time a coup was brewing in Ireland to buy the colt for six to seven million dollars. Enough people signed on to the syndicate so that didn’t happen.
In 1973, Secretariat and the crew moved north to New York where the horse would get ready for the Derby. The first race on March 17 in the Bay Shore was a tough challenge as the other horses boxed him in. Somehow Turcotte, but mostly the colt, burst out of the pack to win the race by ove