The Good Life: A new beginning
I was once told that thinking about things too much takes the craic out of life. While that may be true, I do think actions should follow some thought. I was faced with an example of this today in the form of a beautiful brown thoroughbred.
Allow me to rewind a few months. Limerick student Race Day tickets went on sale on December 3. They went on sale in the morning. Students ignored the ongoing lecture and logged on to get them, others set the alarm to wake up in time. Students rushed to get as many as they could for themselves, their friends and possibly to sell on to fund the next few pints. Profit is key.
Those who got them are already planning their outfits, bus companies are arranging fixtures, sharing social media posts. In the restaurant during my shift one guy is frustrated as he lost connection on Ticketmaster, ruining his chances of getting tickets. I didn’t tell him they had already sold out. Venues are booked, bookies are preparing, alcohol, catering, everything is set. Jockeys are training, horses are running, owners are watching. So many stakeholders involved in just one day.
Last Thursday afternoon I had the pleasure of meeting a beautiful ex- racehorse. I don’t know if I can call him this because he never made his competitive debut. After being bred off strong bloodlines, reared, gelded, and sent for training, it was decided that this beautiful brown thoroughbred wasn’t fit for racing. He simply didn’t have the competitive spirit - the thirst for winning wasn’t in him. After investing thousands, his owners had to cut their losses and take him out of training.
Like a car with no value and no parts worth sparing, the animal’s destiny in the eyes of the horseracing industry was the scrap yard. This gentle creature, who loved having his cheek scratched just below the eye, who nuzzled your fingers gently for attention, was deemed useless. I had seen the animal as a foal, he was slightly wild and a little hard to manage.
But with daily contact with humans, training, and affection, I watched him transform. His fear of humans without his mother by his side dissipated. Now at five years of age, I could see his placid temperament, his quiet and gentle presence. His owner had the good grace to make a few calls. He landed on all fours in a good home where he will be retrained for riding.
The story broke my heart. Even though it had a happy ending, it shone yet another light on the cruelty of the racing industry. A horse’s skeletal system isn’t fully developed until they are four to six years old. Flat racehorses begin their training at around two years of age with some already entered in juvenile races at this age. Some finish their careers before their bone structure has fully developed at the age of four, others are only reaching their peak at this stage.
They can race until they are ten or older, but each career is individual. I’ve been to the races before and watched horses run circles around a course. I can honestly say their bone health was the last thing on my mind.
Yet scratching the ears of this perfectly healthy beauty (given a green light by the physio) whose destiny was euthanasia, I deplored the horse racing industry once again. Profit is a cruel aim.
Now when I think of student race day, the Irish derby, Cheltenham and the rest, I will think if this gelding. Among the adrenaline of Race Day, shouts of encouragement and fists pumped in the air, the wellbeing of the animal is the last thing on our minds. In their careers, they are well taken care of, I don’t deny that, but the cruelty of the industry is always looming in the background.
The inevitable end of the racehorse’s career when they are no longer the profitable machines will always be there.
Some, like this boy in front of me, have luck on their side and land in a good home. I watch him happily munching on hay ready to embark upon a different career in the New Year and despair at how he was nearly put to sleep.
I loved the idea of retraining and I look forward to seeing the horse develop into his new career.
Treo Eile, Irish for ‘another direction’, is an organisation founded in 2020 which retrains racehorses for a new discipline. Owners can register their animals to find a new home, they have a directory for retrainers all over Ireland, and advice for those who are in the position of retraining.
Anyone in the position might consider using their services. The average life of a horse can be up to 30 years, not just the first seven.
* Gemma Good is from Killeshandra and a fourth year journalism student in University of Limerick
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