Foals used to be produced by a stallion and a mare, separated by an inattentive farmer and flimsy pasture fence. Or by a pile of rubble that used to be a flimsy pasture fence.
Nowadays, due to advanced scientific veterinary procedures, we can collect, chill, freeze and ship semen around the world. We can manipulate a mare’s cycle with a hormone shot. It all seems so industrial. Think of those poor little swimmers, getting sucked into a straw, frozen, transported, thawed and implanted. It would be like being vacuumed up into an alien spacecraft, then decanted and uploaded with all the romantic ambience of a chef shooting herb dressing into an equally chilled, equally surprised Christmas turkey. Where’s the romance in that?
But technology marches on. We can now clone horses. And transfer embryos from one mare to another. Next will be foals forming non-profit support groups to help search for their biological parents.
Statistics are consulted and tireless research is done to find the perfect match in today’s breeding industry. Thanks to FedEx, proximity is of no consequence, only bloodlines and show records. Of course, if you asked the stallion, there is no such thing as the wrong mare. And if you asked a mare in season, there is no such thing as the wrong stallion. But nowadays, the stallion and mare never see each other. Video, Internet, advertising budgets and enhanced digital photography drive a huge sport horse breeding market.
But what if the horses themselves could take out personal ads?
“I want a mare whose legs go all the way up to her neck, with a solid derriere and a healthy appetite. One who can stuff a bale of hay in her mouth and still whinny when she hears the feed room door open. I’m looking for a mare who loves foals, fools and children.”
“I’m looking for a stallion who enjoys long walks in moonlit pastures, nude co-ed mud rolling and cozy stolen moments in the hay shed. No skinny, pointy thoroughbreds or short, bald Quarter Horses. I’m attracted to imported Warmbloods (love a stud with an accent), long-haired Friesians (Bohemian intrigue) and polo players (sexy, and fast!).”
When you see the UPS trucks in your neighborhood, delivering that next champion in a test tube, it must be spring, and breeding season in the Sandhills.
