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Stallions Mares Foal Watch Retirees

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You drive through a glitzy and glamourous section of Lexington, Kentucky's famous thoroughbred country. It appears you have made a wrong turn. The road becomes a bumpy, unkempt cobbled street, and winds through a lush green forest, where the wet trunks of the trees are black and Spanish moss hangs exhausted from their branches. Suddenly, you are out of the woods. An ornate cast-iron gate opens up ahead of you. On your left and right, rolling hills open up to either side, a mist hanging in the valleys. The backdrop of the gently rolling Appalacains is breathtaking. Freshly painted black fences rise and fall with the cobbled drive. Sleek horses wade in the crystal clear brooks at the bottom of the valleys. But, you notice these are not ordinary equines... some have wings, others have fantastic colorations. It is obvious this is no ordinary horsefarm.

The first thing that catches your eye as your car grinds to a halt across the brownish grey cobblestones is a burnished bronze fountain in the center of a drive circle, behind which is an ancient, dark-barked, sprawling oak tree. In its shade is the antique brick arched entrance to the main training barn, its mossy surface covered with elegant, well-tended English ivy and white morning glories.

You wander into the dark entryway. Along on the right there are some luxurious-looking wrought iron stalls. To the left is an expansive, sand-floored arena, lit by arched skylights. Horses munch contentedly on their hay, and you see a door to the left labeled "Office." You consider knocking, but just before, a dark-skinned woman in riding jeans and a white polo exits. "Oh, hello, you must be _______." she says, grasping your hand and shaking it firmly. You're suprised she remembers your name as you are just here for a visit. The woman's worn face has crinkles around her smiling eyes. "I'm Montana Wildcrest, live-in vet and barn manager." she introduces herself. "Let's go see the horses."