What luck to be born in the horse country of central Kentucky. Fields of horses have always been my favorite sight. Horses are exquisite whether racing with their foals across spring’s verdant bluegrass or nuzzling for a little surprise in winter’s brilliant snow.
All horses are magnificent. I do not care if they are thoroughbreds (according to the signs in Kentucky 90% of thoroughbreds are born in Kentucky), saddlebreds (three gaited and five gaited beauties who perform at horse shows), standardbreds (which compete with each other at the trots, showcasing their skills in front of a sulky), polo ponies (which are really the size of horses of course) or actual ponies like Spot of my childhood.
Don’t get me wrong. I am not an accomplished rider and certainly not a proficient bettor. But besides the famous racetracks of Kentucky I have been to the races in Chicago (My own horse ran there), Australia (Imagine my delight when the first sign I saw at Sydney’s racetrack was one promoting Churchill Downs), New Orleans and Deauville. I was fortunate enough to ride in Normandy too and through the beautiful woods of the Homestead. I watched my grandfather’s and my uncle’s horses compete in horse shows, but those blue-bloods were too superior for me to ride. I’d have been off on my duff in no time at all.
If truth be known I love all animals. I am an activist when it comes to promoting the well being of animals throughout the world.