Moonshine Hall

His name was "Moonshine Hall'.  Oh believe me when I say this alcoholic knows her Moonshine but that's not where the name came from.  The man who raced him loved Barbados so all of his best horses were named after places on the island.  Wherever the name came from I found him intoxicating.  My husband Jay called him the FABIO of racehorses.  He was a bright golden chestnut gelding with a long flowing mane.  If the three of them had been a boy band Moonshine would have definitely been the heart throb.  Karibou Gardens, the big dark bay just shy of 17 hands, would have been the strong, silent, athletic type who the girls loved because he was a little goofy.  And Bishop Court Hill, the liver chestnut with the white sock up front, would have been the smart one with all the tricky dance moves.  He might have worn glasses during interviews…Girl you know it's true…ooh ooh ooh oohh ooh. 

But these three were no Milli Vanilli.  They were the real deal.  You know the old expression?  "You are still my horse if you never win a race"?  Well these guys had won plenty.  Not for me.  And long before I met them.  And when I met them I still didn't understand right away how truly special they were.  They belonged to an elite club of thoroughbred racehorses.  They were Graded Stakes Winners.  I was to find out that horseracing like all sports has it's own language.  There are "Stakes Races" and "Named Stakes Races"…the races they call "black type races" because in the gambler's programs those races are shown in bold black type.  And even those races are divided up into Division 1, 2, and 3.  Win enough of those and you qualify for the races that EVERYONE has heard of…like the Kentucky Derby.  Then there are the hundreds if not thousands of races run all over the country…well the world actually…different types of "allowance" races and what they would call $5000 dollar claimers.  The fact is that out of THOUSANDS of thoroughbreds that make it to the track in any given year all over the US maybe less than 30-40 percent win even one race.  Less than 1% of those horses can call themselves graded stakes winners.  Bish and Boo and Moonie were in that company.  And between them had won almost $2 million dollars.  That brings to mind another old saying "How do you make a million dollars racing horses?  Start with a billion".  But I digress…I've been told that as much as I like to brag about their race records I'm on track to become the best known thoroughbred owner in the county. 

Where do I come in?  I washed up broken and battered and drunk in an AA meeting in Ocala, Florida…seriously…the Horse Capitol of the World.  There are more acres of horse farms in Marion County (about the size of Rhode Island) than there are in the entire state of Kentucky.  Horse racing here is a billion dollar industry.  The AA meeting I stumbled into was walking distance from a 1000 acre farm that was LEGENDARY…but that's another story.  And a really nice man hung around after the meeting to make sure my car started and we got to talking. Horses came up in the conversation.  My 22 year old kid calls them my "hyper fixation".  I'd been around them my whole life and had had my own since I was 10 years old until about 10 years ago.  I'd known some "OTTB's" --Off Track Thoroughbreds…and had ridden a few.  But didn't really know much about the INDUSTRY.   I found out he was living on that farm down the street…had retired there…and the "boss" had gotten out of the racing business and sold off all the horses…except for three.  Two of them because they were in their 20's…the 10 year old…well who knows.  Jeff said "Come on around and I'll take you out to meet the old coots".  He didn't have to ask twice.  So…that started the year of "getting to know you" dating.  NOT me and Jeff…me and the horses.  And during that first rough year of new sobriety I can't tell you how many dark nights I snuck on the farm to stand near them and ask for peace.  All they asked me for were peppermints.  Racehorses it turns out like peppermints.  And I went through bags of starlight mints under starry nights and sunny days.  Those horses brought my soul back home to live in my body.  I owed them.  Phil the farm manager seeing us hanging at the fence with them stopped by one day to give Jeff the news that the Big Boss was selling everything.  Later, when ran into him when I was alone I had to ask "What's going to happen to the Old Coots?" (which was what Jeff called them)  Phil said "I don't know.  You want them?"  I wrote my phone number down on the back of an envelope and handed it to him out the window.  I signed the "bill of sale"…price ZERO…for the three of them on 7/20/2020.  Someone said to me "You mean they GAVE you three racehorses?"  I said, "No.  Don't get confused.  Three racehorses were given a woman.  My boys understand exactly who is in charge of the operation". 

 We moved them to a pasture nearer our house.  It was about a ten mile drive.  Horses kept at pasture don't need to eat twice a day but they do need to be looked at twice a day.   That began my two plus years of commuting.  The boys bookended my days.  No matter WHAT happened in the middle I was going to be standing with them in the evening…and no matter how rough the night they would be waiting for me in the morning.  It was Winston Churchill who said "There's something about the outside of a horse that's good for the inside of a man."  Well it's true for any gender.  Jay, my husband, will still try to tell you that he's NOT a horse person.  Well there are three bags of peppermints in his car that make those words a lie. 

Retired racehorses are like any retired professional athletes.  They come with their share of old war wounds some of which have healed better than others.  Moonshine…my lead singer…had it the worst of the three.  But that had been true his whole career.  In his youth he'd recovered from TWO what would usually be career ending surgeries to go back to the track and win.  So at 22 he took things slower than his pasture mates.  Even Bishop who was the same age. Though I secretly suspect Bishop is a vampire…because you'd never know it to look at him.  Bishop likes to remind me that he's the only GRADE ONE winner of the three…right before he sprints off to the tree to relax…a length or two ahead of Karibou the 12 year old…snickering under his horsey breath about the flaws of Grade 2 milers and how they aren't as fast as they think they are.  But even at a pretty slow walk Moonshine ran the pasture.  Don't let me take him out for a walk to the barn.  The other two would lose their MINDS running back and forth to the gate calling to him.  He was the lead singer.  And a prince amongst horses.

 It was a Tuesday morning in March when I drove up and Moonshine couldn't walk.  It was that far hind leg. He had a locked stifle that had been troubling him.  But this morning it was hanging there useless.  I carried his feed and a bucket of water out to him.  Gave him a painkiller…and spent the next few hours rubbing him and whispering to him and hoping I was wrong.  I'd seen it coming over the months…the standing three legged…the trouble getting up after a roll…having to help the shoer prop him against a fence to trim his hooves.  I left that night and when I came back the next day he'd changed locations during the night…but couldn't walk to me for breakfast.  I called my vet.  Jay and I met  Dr. Carter out there the next day.  It wasn't good news.  That hind leg was cold…had no distal pulse at the ankle…and was starting to develop celulitis.  Options?  Well sure. If I was made of money they could take him to the hospital…suspend him in a box stall…start a variety of procedures to restore circulation…but for what?  So that I could pretend for awhile longer that what was happening wasn't happening?  Even if I'd had the money "recovered" Christy didn't willfully make others suffer so that she could feel better.  Moonie hadn't saved my life and sanity to get less than the best I had to give him when he needed it.  I picked the place in the pasture and we slowly led him.  I asked her about the other two…she said that often if pasture mates were present it was less upsetting.  So we let them stay.  She started the IV and gave him a little something to take the stress off…and then gave me some time alone.  I took the scissors out of my pocket and cut off some of that GLORIOUS red chestnut mane to keep.  I stood in real close to his neck and scratched his cheeks right under his eyes the way he liked.  And of course I never left my house anymore without peppermints in my pockets so there were a few of those.  And then I whispered in his ear that I'd just heard from the racing secretary.  That he had drawn an inside post position at the big racetrack in the sky.  That I couldn't go with him but had heard that they had the best grooms in the business.  That I couldn't keep him from his destiny and that nobody better bet against him.  And then I nodded at Dr. Carter and stepped away.  Jay says that it's the worst sound he's ever heard.  The sound of a horse dropping to his knees.  What I heard in that sound was freedom from pain.  And I knew if he'd never known it before Moonshine Hall left knowing he was loved…loved like a 15 year old girl loves a rock star….or even better…like a Horse Girl loves her horse.

 Moonshine Hall was bred in Kentucky by Dorothy Long and foaled on April 14, 2000. Sired by Spinning World out of Pink Dove.  Bought by Melnyk Racing Stables, Winding Oaks Farm Ocala Florida for $180, 000 as a yearling.  Retired with 30 starts…8 wins…8 placed and 2 shows for career earnings of $384, 907 dollars. His biggest win was the G2, 2003 Charley Barley Stakes at Woodbine racetrack in Canada with Patrick Husbands up. A mile and a 1/16th in 1:33:27 . And after retirement is credited with saving the life of at least one human woman in pre-pandemic North Central Florida.