Tales from a winter meadow: Under the crimson silhouettes

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By Susan Kayne

For Capital Region Independent Media

Lady in crimson, investigating a new tub of treats. Contributed photo

Against the white canvas of December, six silhouettes dot the western meadow of Unbridled, their bright holiday blankets splashing crimson against the snow. These are not ordinary mares grazing in the crystalline morning – they are living testaments to both racing royalty and redemption, their breath rising like prayers in the winter air.

They came from iconic individuals and heritage farms, where their own births were a celebration that culminated the manifestation of meticulously mapped bloodlines through generations of champions.

At Fasig-Tipton and Keeneland Sales their price tags once soared past three-quarters of a million dollars. Each carefully chosen name was once announced over loudspeakers at Aqueduct, Arlington Park, Belmont, Churchill Downs, Gulfstream Park, Keeneland, Santa Anita and Saratoga, as their hooves thundered down the legendary stretches.

Across America’s storied racetracks, from the Pacific surf to Atlantic shore, these mares answered the call to race 93 times. Their combined 18 years of racing – each pushed to peak performance for three seasons – yielded 20 victories and purses totaling more than $580,000.

Yet each mare’s career ended while her body was still growing, her skeleton still years from the natural fusion that comes at age six. Thoroughbreds, you see, are forced to run before their bones are ready. They retire before their frames are finished, sacrificing natural development for speed and soundness for profit.

Katouni and On Demand share a tender moment, their bond forged in survival. Contributed photo

Together, these mares produced over 30 foals who have topped sales, graced winner’s circles, and produced yet again in breeding sheds across the nation, generating millions in economic impact and value.

But that was before.

Before their economic utility waned. Before they became unwanted. Before their names were exchanged for auction numbers. Before they entered the nightmare of the slaughter pipeline, where their royal bloodlines meant nothing more than the price per pound their flesh might fetch.

Their fate was sealed not by the kill buyers who ultimately bid on their flesh, but by an industry that annually creates 600,000 years of life only to discard the majority who fail to turn a profit. The Sport of Kings reveals itself as more akin to the Sport of Profit – an industry that manufactures thousands of Thoroughbreds annually while building no infrastructure for their inevitable retirement.

While breeders and racing authorities point fingers at meat brokers and auction predators, they remain willfully blind to their own systemic failure: the absence of any meaningful retirement protocol for the tens of thousands of Thoroughbreds whose bodies, minds and heart were broken building their fortunes, while reserving protection only for their profitable stallions and elite broodmares.

Almost A Lady’s dignity is restored. Contributed photo

The descent of Almost A Lady, B’s Wild Rush, Honorett, Katouni, On Demand, and Raf And Ready into the slaughter pipeline wasn’t an aberration – it was the predictable outcome of a system that measures worth solely in dollars, a system that praises winners one day and sends them to slaughter the next.

The terror began in dim-lit auction barns, where they stood trembling while tethered to old stone walls or steel stanchions. Gone were the routines, shelter and measured feed. Instead, gruff voices, rough handlers, and crude prods moved them to and from the sales floor to pen to truck, truck to lot. With each jarring transition their confusion compounded.  

These mares — their last foals barely weaned, some used only as surrogate mothers, others given away to perilous homes or sent straight to auction — found themselves crammed into livestock trailers, their elegant legs scrambling for purchase on slick metal floors as they headed toward the broker’s lot, where they would be weighed, barcoded, and priced for slaughter.

Only one mare was spared the full descent into darkness. At the Unadilla auction, fate intervened when Unbridled outbid the kill buyer, whisking Raf And Ready from the nightmare’s edge. Instead of a crowded trailer, she stepped onto a two-horse bedded trailer, with hay and fresh water, headed to her new and forever home.  

Honorett savors the nourishment once denied her. Contributed photo

Though the auction’s shadows had dimmed her spirit, Raf was saved before the final horror of the feedlot could break her completely. The others came to Unbridled broken – not only in body, but in spirit. Their eyes, once bright with the fire of life, had dulled with betrayal. Some bore the marks of harsh hands, others the hollow-flanked evidence of neglect. Each carried the invisible wounds of abandonment, of being discarded by members of the very industry that had once celebrated their every victory.

Yet here, in this snow-covered sanctuary, something remarkable has happened.

Watch them now as they move across the meadow, their gaits break into a gallop for the sheer frivolity of being free. The big round hay bales before them offer constant comfort, a far cry from the uncertain meals of their darker days. Clean water, warmed against the winter chill, stands ready to quench their thirst. The shelter’s soft bedding welcomes them when winter winds blow too fierce, though they often prefer the open sky, as if making up for time spent in confinement.

At the sound of a whistle, they lift their heads in unison, and with the synchronicity of dancers, their ears twist forward, and they float across the snow. Eager to connect, each mare approaches with the gentle confidence of the deeply cherished, nuzzling pockets and investigating hands for treats with soft, velvet muzzles. These same mares – who suffered the worst of humanity — now freely gift their trust, pressing warm foreheads against familiar shoulders, their worth measured not in dollars but in the currency of unconditional love.

Katouni in close-up, her trusted friend Honorett nearby. Contributed photo

Their eyes tell stories of two lives: the glorious years of racing silks and winner’s circles, and the dark descent through auctions and kill pens. But they also reflect something else now: peace. They’ve found it here, in the companionship of other survivors, in the reliability of twice-daily grain, in the simple pleasure of rolling in fresh snow.

As the winter sun sets behind the shelter, casting long shadows across the meadow, these six mares gather close. Their blankets, patched and worn like battle flags, glow crimson in the fading light. They stand together, these daughters of champions, survivors of man’s calculated cruelty, now safe in their final home. Their breath mingles in the frozen air, rising like incense, carrying away the memories of darker days.

They are home now. In the sanctuary of Unbridled, they have found what their racing glory could not secure: the promise that they will never again know the fear of being unwanted, the terror of the auction block, or the betrayal of those who once proclaimed their worth in dollars and cents.

Raf And Ready’s gentle investigation of carrots and kindness. Contributed photo

Watch them in the gathering dusk. Through their soft nickers and gentle interactions, they teach us about forgiveness, about the capacity to trust again after the deepest betrayal. They show us how to carry grief without bitterness, how to embrace joy despite past wounds, and most powerfully – how to live fully in the present while carrying scars of the past.

In their dignified sovereignty, they reveal that survival itself is an act of defiance, and that healing, when it comes, is not about forgetting but about choosing to trust again.

Susan Kayne operates the horse rescue organization Unbridled Thoroughbred Foundation, on the border of Albany County and Greenville.

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