Witman contracts cowboys from places like Wyoming and South Dakota to train yearlings. The process takes about a month to complete. “It is a bit unusual when you see somebody who is willing to come in and break tradition. That’s what Bill has done,” says Switzer, adding that Witman’s practices have been accepted within the industry. “The cowboys are used to breaking quarter horses, cutting horses, this, that and the other, but not thoroughbreds. But the way they do it in an even, mild-manner way, and so quickly, that’s something we can learn from,” Switzer says. “Bill’s clients are indicative that they trust him with the methods of his training. That’s the important thing.” On a recent rainy day in Lexington, Witman sits atop his quarter horse, Risin’ Sun, watching as four cowboys ride laps inside a barn on the shed row — a track made of hard wood chips that ring the stalls inside the barn. “You can look at their facial expression and you can tell how well they’re doing,” he says of the thoroughbreds trotting inside the barn, explaining that the horses’ ears are up and alert. At about 2 ½ weeks into training, he is watching the horse’s stride, attitude and willingness to obey their rider. As he speaks, a horse takes a couple of skittish hops to the side, its rider turning a circle to correct the course. “They’re just babies, you know,” Witman says, smiling down from his perch.
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WINTER 2011
“As alumni, we need to get back. I know what it’s done for me. You don’t ever forget where you came from.”
Witman makes a point each day to ride with the breakers, which on dryer days takes the crew to the lush, rolling pasture. It’s part of — BILL WITmAN what designates Calumet Farm as his dream job. “I never go to work, I just get up and go to the barn,” he says with a wry smile. In the early morning hours, he works from his “devil-red” Chevy Silverado that matches Calumet’s racing silks. He drives between stables administering treatments, changing bandages and ensuring everything at the farm is running smoothly. He moves with a quiet and swift deter“The horse is the most noble beast God mination, leaving the truck running as he ever put on the face of this earth,” Witman stops at each barn. The back seat in the says. “But with blooded horses, the more four-door cab has been replaced with a refinement we breed in, the more resistance chest of veterinary tools; medical sheers, we breed out.” forceps and needle holders rest inside the Witman is all business as he attends to truck’s air conditioning vents while a large the recovering horses. He trusts handlers bottle of Aleve and a canister of shotgun to steady the animals while he works on shells are nestled into the center console. hooves and shins. His barely-noticeable A fuzzy dog mat sits in the passenger seat bedside manner is calm and empathetic. where dog Shelby normally rides. He massages injection sites and pats horses With an average of more than 200 on their necks. He’s more engaged when he horses on-site each day, Witman might tours the grounds, stopping at one point to not know the name of every thoroughbred watch several yearlings race across the field. at Calumet, but he closely monitors his “The yearlings spend the night outside “post-op” patients. He speaks reverently in the pasture. I want them to spend as about the rehabilitation process, saying much time as they can just being horses,” that bringing a horse back to full potenhe says, looking out the window of the tial is one of the most rewarding things truck. Watching the horses run is one of he’s experienced. his favorite things to do.