A DAY AT WAIKANAE STUD FARM

New Zealand Times, Volume XXXII, Issue 7027, 15 January 1910, Page 13

A DAY AT WAIKANAE STUD FARM

(By A.G.K.) One frequently hears and reads strange stories of what is called the "Romance of the TuTf," but, curiously enough, these stories relate almost, solely .to gambling; to the making or breaking of the fortunes of inert. Naturally enough, I suppose, the human interest must always make the strongest appeal to the human mind. Yet. (being always a sentimental sort of beggar wheve horses are concerned) I could not help .thinking when walking, a few days ago, [through the numberless green paddocks :of a certain stud farm at; Waikanae, what a wealth .of romance there was .here—here among the horses, themselves. Of course, the average, person is 1 no sentimentalist: he only, wants, to be 'amused. Tho ordinary theatregoer, for Instance, is only interested in the actual (presentment of the play before him—'not in its raison d'etre. He is. not especially concerned with the affairs of the people who are acting, nor does it make iany great odds to him whether the author be Bernard Shaw or Ibsen. Enough for him that the puppets dance—it niat'ters not that they are bits of a man's Ibrain! , ~" - . I. And the average race-goer, who is a 'very average .sort of person as a, rule, cares little or nothing for the nursery days of the equine aristocrat. Why should' he?'" Enough for . him that the horses are here before him looking the pink of everything a thoroughbred ought to look, ,and all readily numbered on the machine for his investment; for this is the point whore his interest begins. The two-year-old." looking nervously through his bridle at that new, strange thing, a human crowd, Rets, it is to be feared, little sympathy from that. 6ame crowd, which hardly even recognises that he is only a. baby. 'And, indeed, it would "be odd if tho average person concerned ■himself with tho childhood days of the racehorse, or with the trials and vicissitudes which preceded his. entry into the somewhat pitiless arena of "the turf." For it was not he (the average one) who, had to sit up o' nights with an ailing mare; or feed a sickly foal; or go searching, with a lantern, on gusty, rain-drenched nights, through paddock after paddock, to 6ee that "they" •were all right before he turned in. . And yet—somebody had to do it! ■ . And here on the. stud farm, this is •what they are doing, day in, day out, all the year round. Here are the babies •that require suoh incessant looking after —these lumpy-hocked, three-cornered, ridiculous whinnying things,, forever nuzzling around their mothers. < These are the ex-babies, these feather-brained yearlings who, having been- safely piloted through the infantile upe and downs of their first year of life, are. now preparing to' enter, the r ' somewhat: hard world for which they were destined. For the days of make-believe are over. Those wild, immature sprints in the paddock, with flying starts and interminate finishes—'those were but..the forerunners to the formidable list of turf engagements ;which have already been entered against 'their names. '■ .' I must say I have never seen a collection .of yearlings which looked better equippeJ for the battle of life than do these at' Waikanae. , Many of them, indeed, notably ■:■' the -:',"- Martian—Alegresse colt the Achilles—Bluewater-filly, .the; Martian—Two-Step filly, and the Achilles —Olivette colt, are much more like two-year-olds than .yearlings., :-, ,;''. : ' ! Sundry persons who ,have seen her have quite, lost their; hearts" to .the par-, ticularly well-grown/- daughter,.spf f. Two-, Step. Thisiisa bay, filly, very-'power-fully built. 1 with a good reach for galloping, and a chest deep enough; to hold several ordinary pairs of lungs and an odd heart or two. ;In faot,. if this filly 'does prove "herself a. ■•stayer" "it is hard to "say what -does go to the physical constitution of that most desiarable animal. '■"' Another very good quality" filly is the St. Ambrose— Success,; a dark brown filly, half-sister to Kilwinning.; She stands'over a lot of, ground and, judging by. the form she displayed when I will be a galloper of the right kind. . This little lady is evidently preparing herself for her twenty-six : engagements... of the future, for she proved herselfc;such a, "good doer"-that her food'supply'Tiad to be docked. The brown daughter of Conqueror—Veroniquo is another fine strong filly with good legs and feet and splendid bone, and is, like the rest of the yearlings, absolutely free from any kind

of blemish. The St. Ambrose—Bonnette is a nice lengthy filly, but a lato foal, and not quite so big as some of the others. This also applies to the St. Ambrose—Ttinglet, who is a beautifully neat filly all tho same, and perhaps the best foal Ringlet has had. The Achilles—Bluewater filly deserves what I cannot give her—a whole page to herself. Indeed, I quite lost my head over this one. Except in colour (she being- a bright bay) she is remarkably like her sire. With two very showy white (hind) stockings, and the superb. hock action, which is so characteristic of Achilles, the way she swung around the paddock was a sight to be remembered. The brown St. Ambrose—Tamarind filly struck mo as being very racy-look-ing, and, like the rest of the St. Ambroses, teeming with quality; also, her strain of the great Musket—Mersey blood is not to be overlooked. ■- .

I could cheerfully have spent all _of my day among these little ladies—-ladies, did I call them? Rather are they a set of saucy wenches, and the way they all crowded round and nibbled one's hat or coat, and stood deliberately in front of one's camera when requested to go away, said little (or a groat deal) for their upbringing. Occasionally a pair of skittish heels would fly uncomfortably close, to one's head, but the action was thoroughly good-natured, .more in the nature of a,.form of, badinage than in any' other spirit. Except for this somewhat disconcerting species of friendliness all the youngsters arewonderfully quiet. The colts, it would appear, do not always live together in such perfect amity as' do the fillies. In fact, the "horseplay" among them becomes, at times, so rough that the more aggressive of these young blades have to be placed in paddocks by themselves. The two Napoleons in exile were,. when I saw them, the big Martian —Alegresse and the Achilles—Olivette colts.' . Perhaps their splendid isolation gave one a better ohance of studying them in all, their moods, but it seemed to me that these two were the pick of tho colts, the lastnamed being.; even how, a. little racehorse all oyer. He aJso has a rare turn of speed' in the paddock, and the long, loping, stride that proclaims the born galloper. The Martian colt, like the Martian filly, is remarkable, on first looks, for size and finish; second looks convince one of more than ordinary style and quality. This colt has great galloping quarters. I was also rather enamoured of the brown St. Ambrose—Marseillaise oolt. Marseillaise, as every good sportsman knows,- is full-sister to Lord Soult, and this colt very much (resembles the Soult, family. The St.-Ambrose—Seal looked a very good sort, as did the biggish bay St. Ambrose—Report; and I also liked the Conqueror—Moresque colt immensely. This is a fine big-boned colt, much resembling his sire in general outline. I really think I missed the Sir Laddo —Purity filly out of my list of mention —and it were a thousand pities to do •rSIs, for she is a very blue-blooded little lady with a long line of distinguished ancestors, of which she bids fair to become a worthy descendant. Altogether, colts and fillies, they are a particularly .good lot; hardy, wellgrown, and hard. There is not a softlooking youngster among them. The extraordinarily "finished" look which fro rarely goes* with, size is the result of everlasting < care —not coddling—day in and day out. No intermittent, snateny attentions here, with "rear yourselves" for a-motto, in the interludes.

Anyone who has tried it knows how infinitely more difficult it is to breed the very best than it is to breed the very ordinary. Whatever it was in Darwin's da7.' "the- indisputable fact remains that at'the present time the very fittest havo a most unhappy, a most irritating knack of —not - surviving'. Perhaps it is the enormous amount of care we have bestowed' upon breeding which has produced this very result, and our. animals are suffering from over-oivilisation and becoming, like ourselves, more and more highly 'strung and "nervy." Also, whatever the reason, the ; fact remains that the motherless foal, the orphaned puppy and the bottle-fed calf are becoming quite alarmingly frequent among the "upper classes" of the domestio animal world.

"Stamina." however, seems to be the keynote of the young stock at Waikanae; anything more lively than the foals," or less neurotio than their mothers, it would be hard to imagine—nor can the owner complain of the cradle not being full. ... I, think every mare I saw' had a little, whinnying long-legged offspring clamouring around her,., and presumably calling her what, even in horse-language, must be the magio name of mother. Being, us I said before, a sentimental sort of beggar, I must say

that the old mares always attract me more than anything else on a stud farm. I always wonder what they are. thinking about, -as they stand long hours in the sun, neck over neck, in that attitude so loved of horses.. In, some wordless form of communication -are they, perhaps, telling each other the old story of past glories over ,again? Many of these maires were very brilliant performers; There is Bellicent, , foi'. instance, whose family on tho'. female side had quite a habit of winning the Oaks; and which she herself won. Ringlet, too, was u bright star oh the firmament of the racing world—but there are. lots of these aristocratic dames with "pasts" of a glorious nature, to look back upon. So good-bye, dear old mothers, dreaming your days away in an atmosphere of peace and utter contentment. . For these little ecatter-bruined, , long-legged things—haply the laurels of tormorrow; for you, only the roses of yester year. But this, '■ after all, is, woman's lot! ',