Simon Cooper - Frankel

The clatter of food bins brings all six residents to their doors. Night is over. It is day again. About the time when Nosey was slipping off Kind, Galileo was chasing the last few oats around his feed bin. The bolts of the door clank. He turns to Noel, slightly inclining his head, allowing the head collar, with brass chain and leading rein attached, to be slipped on. The pair head for the door, across the yard, down the hedge-lined path between the stallion paddocks before turning left up the short incline to the covering barn. With well-timed precision, as the doors of the barn slide open for Galileo, Kind and the foal enter from the opposite doors. The foal is peeled away, stiff limbed in the restraint of two stable hands who gently hold him up close to the wall, far enough away but still in sight of the soon to be coupling pair.

Jutting out from the wall, in direct line between the two entrance doors, is the teasing rail. It is here, for the first time, that Kind and Galileo come together. The rail isn’t a rail at all. It is a barrier. A reinforced, padded board that is 5 feet high and 12 feet long. In other words, about the height (to the neck) and length of a horse. Just enough to allow division with the opportunity for union.

At first, the pair start head to head. There’s a brief shaking of heads, a meeting of eyes, but like the teaser Padraig, Galileo’s interest lies elsewhere. As Kind is held parallel to the rail he turns towards her tail end. His head slides down her mane, his nose then rubbing against her spine, sliding up, then down her rib cage, inexorably moving rearwards, nipping at her flesh. Snorting in appreciation of what is to come. Kind stands rigid, all four legs slightly splayed. As Galileo reaches her rump she lifts her tail to expose herself. He lets off a deafening retort as he sniffs and licks and nips her vulva. Kind’s tail rises further, fully posed. Galileo kicks and thumps at the teasing rail. It is not natural and it should not be there. He lets his displeasure be known. Kind quivers as a stream of hot, odourful urine waterfalls out of her. She is staling, proof that she is ready.

As the two are backed to the centre of the barn the pheromones from her steaming urine reach Galileo, triggering the Flehmen response. This is really quite frightening to behold; the German origin of the word flemmen that means to look spiteful is not far from the truth. Here’s the side of Galileo rarely seen. A horse defined by what he now is. A stallion ready for his mare. His otherwise placid face contorts as he stretches his head high in the air, curls back his upper lip, exposes his front teeth and white gums, narrowing his nostrils to suck in the smell of Kind. When the scents hit his nasal organs in the roof of his mouth he holds the pose for a few seconds, as if he was a sommelier savouring the bouquet of a rare vintage. As he lowers his head the handler leads him, erect and ready, towards Kind.

She sees nothing of this; Galileo is away and behind her. Her movements are restricted by not only two handlers at her head but giant soft felt boots that engulf her rear hooves. Her hobbling gait looks uncomfortable but it’s necessary; a single kick can inflict great damage on both horse and human, so the boots are put on soon after she arrives in the barn. Like at the teasing rail Kind stands legs splayed. Braced. At her head one handler takes the reins, while the other stands by with the twitch in hand, which is nothing more than a stout broom handle with a loop of rope at the end. A few yards away the foal looks on, eyes fixed on his mother in a scene that must be totally incomprehensible, leaning hard against the handlers as if to take comfort from their grip.

Kind is allowed to look around to see Galileo is approaching; it is important she is not caught unawares. The twitch is applied to her upper lip, the rope loop twisted around to cause a certain amount of pain. At first, this is both a distraction and a restraint. Then a rush of endorphins kicks in, dulling the pain before creating a feeling of calm. The moment has nearly arrived. Galileo is ready. Anyone can see that. But Kind’s signals are more subtle. She lowers her rear in a very slight squat before raising her tail and winking to her stallion, the vulva turning outwards to expose her clitoris.

Galileo raises himself up on his hind legs, pausing for a moment in mid-air before, with remarkable poise, he lowers himself slowly down, his front legs sliding either side of Kind’s back before gripping at her belly. He doesn’t slump over. He uses his colossal strength, aided no doubt by pumping adrenalin, to hold himself above her. Beneath, his rigid penis sways from side to side. The stallion manager steps forward, guiding Galileo into Kind. At the moment of penetration Galileo arches his back, leans forward to bite her on the neck, gripping her mane and a roll of flesh in his mouth, the combination of legs and teeth giving him enough purchase to start thrusting into Kind.

The mating is not as violent or as animalistic as you might imagine. Kind is ready. Compliant. Relaxed, even. Galileo by contrast is the picture of concentration, his tail stretched downwards to the ground in perfect alignment with his back, his neck and head curved, his eyes gone to another place. While he thrusts and thrusts and thrusts. There is very little noise. Some deep sucks of air. Hooves readjusting on the floor. The smack of flesh on flesh. Spittle trails appear down Kind’s neck. A patch of her mane becomes matted wet. Nobody talks.

It doesn’t last for long. I didn’t time it, but I counted the seconds in my head. Maybe twenty-five or thirty from penetration to ejaculation. Everyone turns to the stud manager who nods. It is over. He has felt the sperm pulsing through the urethra at the base of the penis. It is important to know that it has truly happened. Galileo pauses for a few seconds further over Kind to allow his engorgement to subside before he slides back, off and away.

Relieved of the pressure, Kind straightens her legs and stands upright again. She pricks her ears at the sight of the foal, the two led on converging paths meeting just before they go out of the door. Bullet Train skips with joy at their reunion, giving his mother a gentle nudge to the belly. Kind turns her head to him ever so slightly, as if by way of grateful maternal acknowledgement, before they disappear from view. Across the other side, Galileo is leaving. There are no backward or lingering glances. It is most definitely over. Within a minute or two the barn is empty of both people and horses. All that is left is a few damp patches on the floor from the wash down water and, lying at crazy angles and in random spots, a pair of discarded felt boots.

Creation day has lasted less than an hour.

4

You are probably asking yourself at this particular moment why the bloodstock industry goes to all this trouble of bringing horses together from all corners of the globe for a physical mating. As you will have gathered, it is a huge and expensive logistical jigsaw. Have they not heard of artificial insemination? If it is good enough for cows, pigs, polo ponies, sheep and just about any other animal or even bird you care to name, why not horses? For goodness sake, we humans have been at it since the London surgeon John Hunter carried out the first documented insemination and subsequent successful birth in the 1770s. As ever with all things horse racing, the answer is, all at once, that complex mixture of tradition, rules, money and hard science.

Tradition is the easy one to tick off. I like the fact that horse racing embraces tradition. Maybe furlongs are today only ever used in ploughing matches and on racecourses, but doesn’t that make it interesting and different? We like our conversations a little odd. Okay, when you say, ‘I got 6–4 about that horse’ a little mental agility is required, but it slips off the tongue better than any metricised 1.5–1. Of course, we could take the bulldozers to the switchback Derby course at Epsom to reduce it to a perfectly flat and uniform oval, but where would be the unique test of the racehorse in that?