Established in 1903, the University of Illinois horse farm has ties to athletics dating back to its founding.
The draft horses initially housed there, or so the story goes, helped with the construction of Memorial Stadium, said Kevin Kline, an animal sciences professor who has worked on the farm since 1974 as a student and faculty member.
The 1924 "tile barn," as it's known, likely for its original roof, has huge stalls and thick concrete walls to accommodate draft horses, which were bred for teaching and research as well as work on the south farms.
The breeds changed over the years, first to quarter horses after World War II — including from the famed King Ranch in Texas — and later to standardbreds, for harness racing.
"We're a production facility for racehorses," said farm operations manager Molly Baldes. "And we are a research, education and teaching farm."
The UI is one of the few universities in the country to breed standardbreds, but with the downturn in Illinois' racing industry, it's not as lucrative as it once was.
The campus has a stable of 11 mares, plus four mares and three stallions housed there permanently by private owners. They produce nine to 10 foals each year who are eventually sold as yearlings. The income helps keep the farm operating.
The farm's offspring are among the most talented in the state. Vocalist, a gentle 27-year-old, produced one of the fastest 2-year-olds in the world a few years ago. Princess Sage, daughter of champion UI pacing stallion Sagebrush, won Illinois Harness Horse of the Year in 2016. And a 2-year-old daughter of a brood mare named Trotting Grace — herself a champion — won two of her first three starts this year.
But racing purses in Illinois aren't as big as they once were, which means yearlings sired in-state aren't worth as much, Kline said.
'No one's breeding in Illinois anymore'
The farm recently turned to breeding horses from Indiana, Ohio and other states where they can fetch more money.
Those states have "racinos" — a combined race track and casino — where the income from slot machines and other gambling is used to supplement horse-racing, Kline said.
For the big "stakes" races, horses have to be sired in the state where they race.
"No one's breeding in Illinois anymore," Kline said.
So the UI farm imports semen from stallions in other states to sire foals. This year's group of yearlings was the first sold out of state.
"We had to do something," Baldes said.
The foals are also part of several research studies by the College of Veterinary Medicine. In one, researchers X-ray their hocks and fetlocks (knees and ankles) for the first year of life, looking for bone chips to see if they resolve or may eventually require surgery.
In another, scientists scan the foals once a week to study umbilical structures with a portable ultrasound and state-of-the-art MRI equipment.
The farm is also used for hands-on instruction. Kline teaches all of the undergraduate animal husbandry classes, and Baldes teaches a horse-handling lab, usually for about 70 students at a time. They learn how to approach, stop and lead a horse; how to groom and train it to use a halter; and how to give medicine.
The first day of class is known as "selfie day," as the students are generally on "cloud nine" to be finally working with horses, she said. Baldes has seen students break down in tears; one city dweller had never seen a horse before.
"That just breaks my heart," she said.
Maevy Gravy, Ketchup and 'my girls'
Most of her students are animal science majors. But Baldes also runs a "foal-watching" class that draws students from engineering and architecture.
The pregnancies last 343 days, and as delivery time approaches, the students sit in shifts from 6 p.m. to midnight or 12 to 6 a.m. to watch the mares. If one goes into labor, the foal-watcher calls Baldes, who lives next door. She can get to the barn in four minutes (and is never more than 20 minutes away during foaling season).
"I'm on a no-fly for four months," said Baldes, who once broke three vertebrae after she was bucked off a horse and used a walker to do the foaling.
Baldes, who grew up as a "country club" girl in Pekin, always loved horses but never owned one until two years ago. She's a graduate student, research associate and the farm's only full-time employee.
She supervises a group of undergraduate part-timers who help keep the farm running. It's a close-knit bunch who stay in touch long after graduation.
There are tears when they have to sell the yearlings every year.
"We all wear sunglasses," Baldes said.
Baldes refers to the brood mares as "my girls," and says they are "spoiled absolutely rotten." She doesn't keep any horses with a bad temperament, as they need to work with students and visitors. Her yardstick: "Can a novice go up and pet her?"
She introduces visitors to the popular Maevy Gravy, getting her hooves cleaned by a farrier as her foal, Ketchup, prances nearby in his first-ever halter; and Tsunami Chick, whose foal Cyclone is named for the mark on his face shaped like a tornado.
Baldes: 'We're here to be enjoyed'
Baldes has watched with unease as traffic has picked up along St. Mary's and Fourth Street with what she calls "urban sprawl." She knows the farm will have to move someday, possibly to an area south of the veterinary medicine research farm.
But that's a long way off, according to Neal Merchen, of the College of Agricultural, Consumer and Environmental Sciences, who oversees the relocation plans.
"We're sort of in the plans, but we need money," Kline said. "It was a lot closer 15 years ago than it is now."
The farm hasn't been affected by the growth of the research park across Fourth Street to the west, though it uses two small pastures in the park to graze horses.
On the UI's master plan, the horse farm and areas east of Fourth are designated as "future development zones," said Associate Provost Matthew Tomaszewski.
A golf course once envisioned there is no longer part of the plan, now that athletics has indoor and outdoor practice facilities.
"We're leaving it a little bit more flexible right now," he said.
In the meantime, Kline and Baldes work with the leaky roof and other maintenance issues in the historic horse barn. Baldes would love to save it, citing the "stunning" hayloft with its trusses and wood floor.
She worries that the horse farm could be phased out completely someday.
"I don't want to see a day where there are not horses at Illinois," she said.
"I don't think that would happen," Merchen said.
By Julie Wurth