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hedges that made up the course there. Sophisticated east-coast trainers were not fans of the jumps which, like some point-topoint fences, invited “cheating1' py crafty horses. At least the hedges appeared handsome and lush, barring drought or insect infestation, both the bane of race chairmen everywhere, prenational fences, of course.
Like the natural hedges at Montpelier just south of Orange, the hedges at the Iroquois were planted into a two-mot high mound of dirt. Woe be to the horse that tried to cheat more than that; the earthen mount was immovable and could prove a costly mistake to a horse trying to skim low over the jumps.
Every type of hedge variety of was tried, attempting to flesh out the jumps more, with a noted lack of success. Nurserymen were consulted; eventually an irrigation system was installed, though more for the now-velvety turf then the cursed fences.
Still, a living course has a certain classy look. It tweaks the heart, just a little, to see the glorious hillside at die Iroquois covered with spectators, jammed right up to the still-living hedge outer rad, with the nations brat steeplechasers brushing through fake plastic. It’s not quite like the old days. Nothing ever is.
Jackie Burke is a rider and writer based in Orlean. She was a ticenaed steeplechase trainer for a r short time in the 1970b and aOn.
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