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Alexander the Great

The Story of the Record-Breaking Filly Who Ruled the Racetrack

Chicago Review Press Incorporated

A Nobody

LOTTA KIM SWEATED AND paced restlessly in her dark stall on a late January night in 2006. Her hooves rustled the deep straw. Her baby was coming, whether she liked it or not.

At midnight Jim, the night watchman at Heaven Trees Farm in Lexington, Kentucky, walked through the foaling barn, checking on those expectant mares he couldn't see from his office. As he walked down the aisle the scent of sweet, fresh hay, with a musty undertone of manure, filled the air. When he got to Lotta Kim's stall he saw her walking around and around, and back and forth, unable to settle. She would give birth tonight.

Jim stayed with Lotta Kim, watching as she tossed her black mane. Her cinnamon-colored hide glistened with sweat. In the early, ghostly hours before the dawn, her water broke, amniotic fluid gushing onto the dry, clean straw. Then Jim called Dede McGehee, the owner of Heaven Trees Farm and a well-respected horse veterinarian. "Miss Dede, Lotta Kim is in labor," Jim told her.

If Dede had been home, she would have headed to the barn. Her pink confection of a house — complete with turrets, a room filled with a bountiful display of Kentucky Derby hats, and a chicken coop miniature of her house that she called Palais de Poulets (Poultry Palace) — was just a short walk to her foaling barn. But Dede was on the road — heading home, but not close yet. Lotta Kim was young and healthy, and Dede did not expect any complications, so she thanked Jim and told him, "If anything changes, let me know."

Next Jim called Don Barcus, the farm manager, who joined him at the foaling barn to watch over Lotta Kim. She was a maiden, which meant this was her first foal. The always high-strung mare was scared and tense; she sweated and panted, her eyes wide. Normally first foals are on the small side, but this one was large, and space in the mare's birth canal was tight.

Over and over, Lotta Kim got up and paced and then lay down with a grunt in the pale-pink cinderblock stall in the dark, quiet barn. For several hours she labored painfully until, finally, with Don and Jim gently pulling on the foal's forefeet, the newborn slid onto the hay. It was a girl!

This was just one foal of hundreds born that season in the Kentucky bluegrass, the nerve center of American horse racing. It would have been impossible at that moment to imagine that this little creature, more leg and bone than muscle and heart, would grow to become a racehorse for the ages, breaking track records and introducing thousands of people to horse racing. In a few short years, little girls and their moms would fall in love with the filly faster than you can say "girl power."

Jim and Don cleaned out the straw, now wet and dirty, and replaced it with dry bedding. They medicated the filly's naval and watched to make sure she would begin to nurse. She nosed around Lotta Kim's belly, looking for her udder. But Lotta Kim had no milk. Often, once a foal starts nursing, the mare's milk comes in. But not this time. Instead, when the filly tried to nurse, clambering around underfoot and rooting around in sensitive, ticklish areas, Lotta Kim — furious, sore, and exhausted — almost stomped her newborn. Don and Jim rushed to protect the baby.

"Whoa, whoa, settle down now, Lotta Kim," Don called out. He and Jim grabbed her halter and led her from the stall. They tried over the next few hours to interest the mare in her new baby, leading her back into the stall several times to see if she would let the filly nurse. But Lotta Kim ignored her. Finally, they took Lotta Kim away. The mare never looked back, never once whinnied for her baby.

As soon as he had led Lotta Kim away, Don climbed the stairs in the foaling barn two at a time. The next few hours were critical for the filly. Right after a mare gives birth she makes a special "first milk," or colostrum. Colostrum is full of antibodies that help protect a foal from disease. Without colostrum, a foal can get seriously ill and even die. And a foal can only absorb colostrum's antibodies within the first 24 hours of its life, though sooner is better.

On the upper level of the barn Dede kept spare colostrum in a freezer. When a mare has a stillborn foal or makes extra colostrum, Dede collects and freezes it just for situations like this. Don grabbed a container and thawed the thick, sticky, bright-yellow liquid. As he fed the little creature in the quiet stall, Don admired her two white socks and her unusual blaze, an upside-down exclamation point.

By now Dede had arrived home. She set out to find the filly a nurse mare, a horse that is producing milk but has no foal or whose foal has been weaned (stopped nursing). A mare like this can nurse a foal that is not her own, if she is willing. Often mares are very willing, but not always. Dede called a nearby farm with an available nurse mare and had them deliver her that day. Time was of the essence.

Dede also called Lotta Kim's owner, Dolphus ("Dolph") Morrison. Dolph, a retired steel mill manager, bred and raced Thoroughbreds as a hobby. He loved the combination of science and art that was involved with matching one of his mares (he owned mostly mares) with a promising stallion. This latest filly was the offspring of a big, strong stallion named Medaglia d'Oro, who Dolph thought was underappreciated.

Arriving at Heaven Trees, the nurse mare's owner sedated the horse lightly, to make sure she was docile, and led her off the trailer. Dede brought the nurse mare into the foaling barn. The filly saw a short, squatty mare with some Appaloosa markings walk toward her. She smelled the Vick's VapoRub, a powerfully minty-smelling ointment, which the owner had rubbed under the mare's nose and on the foal's back to mask the unfamiliar scent of the strange new filly. Once she drank and then excreted the nurse mare's milk, the foal would begin to smell more familiar. Dede hoped that the nurse mare, who had no foal, and the filly, whose mother had rejected her, would bond.

The mare walked into the stall and began to eat from a hay net. The foal tottered over and began to nurse, nuzzling the Appaloosa's udder. The little girl was hungry! So far so good, but was the mare going to accept the filly? Nurture her body and spirit? It was anybody's guess. The nurse mare had chosen hay over the filly at first, which was not a great sign. After the nurse mare ate, Dede hobbled her and sat with her and the filly in the stall.

The nurse mare did not like people and was very hard to catch once she was in the paddock. She hated having her face touched, according to Dede, which made it challenging to grab hold of her halter. The mare quickly got a nickname that reflected her prickly nature. Since the new filly's mom was named Lotta Kim and Dede also had Lotta Kim's half-sister, Lotta Rhythm, the nurse mare, now an honorary member of the family, became Lotta Bitch (referred to hereafter as the more polite Lotta B).

Dede moved the filly and Lotta B into one of the stalls with a special viewing window, and someone also stayed with the pair constantly. The first day was critical.

Lotta B

IT WAS NOT LOVE at first sight. Lotta B didn't warm to her adopted foal immediately. But gradually, Lotta B took the filly into her care, making sure she stayed by her side. Don and Dede could tell because when they took the filly out of the stall, Lotta B whinnied loudly and frantically as the filly moved out of sight. After that the horses were inseparable. When Lotta B grazed, the filly grazed; when Lotta B got it in her mind to run, the filly ran with her.

Later, with other foals, Lotta Kim became a better mother than she was with her firstborn, who was eventually named Rachel Alexandra, after Dolph's granddaughter. Lotta Kim tolerated her next foal — sired, or fathered, by Empire Maker — and she bonded strongly with her third foal, Samantha Nicole, who was named after Dolph's other granddaughter and is Rachel Alexandra's full sister (they have the same sire, Medaglia D'Oro). Lotta Kim whinnied frantically when Samantha Nicole was weaned from her. She missed her foal.

With her new mother, Rachel Alexandra had a carefree life at Heaven Trees. She romped and cavorted in the large paddock with her playmates, including Mogul Maker, whose mom was Lotta Rhythm. They raced up the hills and then back down, running along the fence and coming to the gate whenever they saw a human visitor who might have treats. The only time Rachel Alexandra, Mogul Maker, and the other foals came into the barn was to get breakfast and take a nap. There Don, Jim, and Dede checked her and her friends over, to make sure they had good appetites and no injuries, and then out the foals scampered into the thrilling, rolling green hills again.

Rachel Alexandra was big; bigger and taller than the other foals, and not just because she was older than the rest. In addition, Dede noticed that Rachel, even at this young age, was good natured and smart, a pleasure to be around, unlike her mother. When Rachel came into the barn in the mornings, she let Dede and the others handle her without flinching, her big brown eyes calm and bright. It was as if Rachel knew the routine and was happy to cooperate.

Soon it was time to wean the foals. So one morning, while Rachel and her foal friends were in the paddock with their mares, Dede culled Lotta B from the herd and took her back to her own farm. Rachel whinnied and nickered for her foster mom, but soon enough her friends enticed her back into galloping and frolicking together in the beautiful Kentucky bluegrass. Rachel was growing up.

Even with her superior size, all that running and fresh air, all the grass and good, nutritious grains and oats she could eat, Rachel Alexandra was still a skinny, scruffy-looking foal. With her big knobby knees and her muscle-free physique, it looked as if she had not inherited those traits that Dolph had admired in her parents. She was considered an ugly duckling whose build would make an unsuitable racehorse. It's just the luck of the draw, Dolph knew, and he prepared to sell her and Mogul Maker at a big auction.

But his plans for Rachel Alexandra were derailed. Before she could be sold, a veterinarian examined her to make sure she was healthy and sound, a requirement for all weanlings going to the sale. Two days before the sale, the vet called Dolph.

"Your little filly has an OCD," the vet said. OCD, osteochondritis dissecans, occurs sometimes when a young horse grows very fast. OCD can cause swelling and pain in a horse's joints and can cause little bumps or lesions, bone chips, bone cysts, or bone-on-bone wear. Since Rachel had some lesions, Dolph knew she would not earn the $125,000 he thought she was worth, and he withdrew her from the sale. Mogul Maker went to the auction block and sold for $350,000, but Dolph's profit from Rachel Alexandra would have to wait. What was he going to do with Rachel?

Diamond D

"RACHEL CAN STAY with me until you decide what to do," Dede told Dolph.

Dolph approached his racehorse hobby just like he had his steel business. The key to his success as a top executive and manager of steel mills, he believed, had been finding good people, getting out of their way, and letting them do their jobs. He hired people he trusted.

Dolph knew Dede was smart, loyal, and very good with horses, and he trusted her to do what was best for Rachel. So he agreed. Rachel didn't get sold, but she didn't get to go back to the rolling green hills of Heaven Trees Farm. Instead she joined other weanlings, including one of Dolph's other weanlings, Abbott Hall, on an extra piece of land Dede rented just down the road. The land was rolling, like at Heaven Trees, but it had no special name or pink-painted buildings — simply a few shelters and two nondescript barns. It was fine space, but it wasn't heavenly.

At Heaven Trees Dede coddled newborns and pregnant mares, as well as mares she was trying to help get pregnant. She used this other land to house horses that were in transition: infertile mares, weanlings and yearlings that were about to be sold, or horses that were ill. By reducing the number of horses on her farm, Dede could protect the turf at Heaven Trees from overgrazing and the pounding of too many sharp hooves.

On the land Dede rented, Rachel marked her first birthday, which for all racehorses is considered January 1, no matter what month they are born. She stayed until summer, when it was time to move onward and upward. The yearling was ready to attend racing school. Since he couldn't sell her for what she was worth, Dolph decided to go ahead and train the filly to see how she might develop.

The sun baked the Kentucky bluegrass on the brutally hot August day. Rachel Alexandra walked into the shiny horse trailer and rode 900 miles to Lone Oak, Texas, which would be her home for the next nine months.

Fifteen hours later the van stopped at Lone Oak's single traffic light, then pulled on past the gas station and the Subway, the only restaurant in town, on its way to Diamond D Ranch. Diamond D is a training center that has 185 acres, 16 paddocks, 7 pastures, 3 barns, 82 stalls, an indoor riding ring and indoor walking ring, plus a vet room, foaling stalls, and a grooming center. Diamond D had space for many more horses than Rachel's previous home.

When the van pulled up to the entrance of the ranch the large, black metal gates swung open. Despite the heat Rachel had made the trip safely and in good health. She was ready to begin the next phase of her life.

Run by Scooter Dodwell and his father, Ed (who died in 2012), Diamond D is like school for horses, except instead of learning to read, write, and do arithmetic, horses learn to race. The Dodwells harness a horse's natural desire to run so it can compete on the racetrack with a jockey perched like a flea on its back.

Scooter — and Ed before him — had trained many horses for many owners, but Dolph had been their loyal customer the longest, for 25 years. Dolph trusted them to do a good job, just like he trusted Dede.

Scooter hardly noticed the big filly's striking blaze as she tromped down the ramp and off the van. That's because he saw something else that filled his heart with dismay: Rachel had the dreaded shark eye. When you can see the whites of a horse's eye, the so-called shark eye, that horse is often ornery or high-strung, or both.

Scooter knew Rachel's mom well. Even without a shark eye, that Lotta Kim was a tempest. Sure she was smart, but she used those brains to be willful and ornery. She battled Scooter using her compact, strong body to resist his every command. Rachel was a big horse already, bigger than her mom.

"Are you gonna fight me like your mama did?" Scooter asked Rachel as he led her to her new stall. Rachel looked at him, ears up and swiveling around, absorbing the details of her new home, the building as long as a football field, lined with stalls. Her own stall had a window looking out onto the paddocks and racetrack and had fresh alfalfa-hay bedding.

Scooter only knew Rachel as "the Lotta Kim filly" at this point, since she was not yet named. "Lotta Kim was hard enough to break," he said to Ed that evening as they did the late feeding, walking down the row of stalls in the large barn, scooping feed into each horse's bucket. "And this Lotta Kim filly has that awful shark eye on her too. This is going to be fun."

Ed just smiled and sympathized. His son didn't fool him one bit. He knew they both took pride in their operation and wouldn't let a challenge like this spook them.

Diamond D uses patience and endless repetition when training its yearlings. Thoroughbred racehorses improve with structure and routine. A horse has to be shown new skills over and over again until they are no longer new but become part of the fabric of the horse's days.

The next day, early in the morning, Scooter came to Rachel's stall.

"Good morning," he said, stroking her nose and looking into her eyes. Rachel snorted and bobbed her head.

"Might as well get this started," he told Jésus Pérez, one of the riders who trained the young horses. Jésus entered Rachel's stall carrying a saddle. The slender, clean-cut young man was all business, but it was a business he loved. He knew, from a decade of experience, how to handle yearlings, gently yet firmly, to introduce them to the many new and strange experiences they would encounter in training, and how to prevent them from being overwhelmed.

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Excerpted from Alexander the Great by Deb Aronson. Copyright © 2017 Deb Aronson. Excerpted by permission of Chicago Review Press Incorporated.
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