Hounds
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Council Bluffs, Iowa
July 19
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And they`re off!
Council Bluffs, Iowa, is just across the Missouri River from Omaha, Nebraska, and is home to the Bluffs Run Greyhound Track. When Deanna talked about our trip and our route on the greyhound Internet message board Greyhound Village, another member named Cheryl invited us to visit. Cheryl works for one of the trainers at the track and told Deanna that she would take us to a see a greyhound farm and the track kennels, so we agreed to come visit.
The morning after we arrived, Cheryl met us at our campsite at Lake Manawa State Park. She left her van at our site and rode with us and the hounds to the greyhound farm owned by Joe Calabro. As we pulled up next to one of the kennels, several hounds came outside into their run enclosures to check us out: they were excited to see some visitors. We put our hounds in one of the outside runs so they could stretch their legs and relax under the shade of an overhanging tree while we got a tour of the farm from Joe. The first kennel housed the youngest puppies, just a couple of months old, who swarmed and spilled their way to the wire wall of their pen trying to get to us. If we put our fingers within reach of their little tongues, they would lick them eagerly. There was a card on the pen listing the names of the puppies` parents (the sire and the dam) and the color and name of each pup. In one pen was a mother who was still nursing her pups. Joe let them out for a moment: the mom scampered about while the pups tentatively ventured out to sniff the floor. There was also a pregnant dam in another enclosure who was expected to give birth the next day.
We then went into the house, just thirty yards to the right of the kennel, where we relaxed with Joe and his wife, their young grandson and their two dogs. Their dogs weren`t greyhounds, but they had paintings of greyhounds on the wall as well as other hound-inspired artwork. Joe showed us a painting that was done of one of the hounds he raised, Forgetful Joey, who had a notable winning record at the Bluffs Run track, but was retired early due to an injury. He then went on to be a stud for about eight years, and when he was retired from stud duty, Cheryl took him home.
Joe then took us to the greyhound runs behind the house where the older hounds were kept. They were as excited to see us as the puppies had been, standing on their hind legs against the fence or jumping in and out of their kiddie pools, getting us wet. There were two or three hounds per run, and each run had a pool, a water bucket, and a bunker-like house for shade and sleep. As the hounds got older and closer to the training age, they would be moved further up the hill to the longer runs. Joe told us that all of the hounds in the longest runs were going to be transported the following weekend to school in Oklahoma to be trained, where they stay until they are ready to race at a track.
Several greyhounds heading into the final stretch of the race.
We thanked Joe and his wife for the tour, collected our hounds, and drove to another greyhound farm, this one owned by Jeana Wilhite who also trains racing greyhounds. She also raises chickens: there were a number of large roosters walking about freely when we pulled up. Jeana warned us that some of the roosters were aggressive and might try to attack us, but they kept their distance and we kept our inquisitive hounds on a short leash. Jeana had some empty enclosures in the air-conditioned kennel to hold our hounds while we visited the track, so we let them take care of business before securing each of them in their own private crate: they all went in with minimal coaxing.
We then took a brief tour of Jeana`s place: we met some of her puppies as well as her Great Dane. After a quick check on our hounds and their accomodations (they were all lying down and relaxing), Deanna, Cheryl, and I got back into the van while Jeana got ready to head to the track. We agreed to all meet up after the 11th race and come back to pick up our hounds.
The next thing on our agenda was to meet up with Don Conatser, one of the greyhound trainers at Bluffs Run, at the Horseshoe Casino for lunch, but that wasn`t going to be for another two hours. So with Cheryl as our guide, we drove to the Petco store in Omaha and replenished our supply of dog treats, then drove to the Mall of the Bluffs back in Council Bluffs. There we found a Radio Shack and purchased a set of walkie-talkies for keeping in touch should we get separated on future hikes.
We then made our way to Horseshoe Casino, located just off of Interstate 80. The casino connects to the racetrack through a few different hallways. Cheryl led us through the casino and into a hallway containing photos and career statistics of the champion hounds of Bluffs Run over the years and a trophy case containing the track trophy. The hallway led into the upper level viewing area of the track. The weekday races didn`t start until 4pm, but there were already a few gamblers in the room betting on simulcast races from all over the country. From our vantage point, we could see the occasional dog handler walking anywhere between four and eight hounds from one kennel building to another to be weighed in just beyond the south side of the track. Cheryl called Don to see if he was ready, then we headed back down to the casino and met him in front of the buffet restaurant where he treated us to lunch.
During lunch, we learned that Bluffs Run races hounds all-year round, unlike some tracks which are only seasonal. There are heating coils under the sand track so it can be kept clean of snow, although under certain rare conditions the melted snow ends up becoming ice and that ice layer needs to be manually broken up and removed. We also learned that the casino was only one or two years old and that now wives would come and play the slot machines while their husbands bet on the races at the track.
After lunch, Cheryl acquired two guest passes for us so we could witness a turnout. Turnout is the term used for letting the dogs out of their racing crates for a bathroom break in the exercise yard. We entered the kennel owned by Rick Bartley, for whom Don trained. The hounds were excited to see us, and became even more excited as the crate doors were opened. Some went right out into the enclosed yard, others headed that way but circled around to sniff us and dance around us, while others immediately came over to us, jumping and cavorting. It was a greyhound mini-hurricane, but we were able to push and prod them into the yard and close the gate behind them. Then the second group of hounds (the males) were let out, and we went through the experience all over again.
The hounds coming out of the turn, the lure just ahead of them.
Before we left (we couldn`t be there when the hounds were let back in: the hounds would be too distracted by us to get back into their crates), Don showed us the ground beef they fed the dogs: apparently one of the most common rumors they hear is that racing greyhounds are fed unhealthy meat or meat from roadkill. The meat looked very much like the wholesale ground beef we feed our own hounds once a week.
We returned to the track, walking up the same sidewalk used to bring the hounds into the grandstand building. Cheryl bought us a racing program, which is structured just like a horse racing program, and we sat on some stools in the back of the ground-level viewing area. From where we sat, we could turn to our right and see the room where the greyhounds received their final muzzle and racing blanket checks. A camera broadcast this quick inspection to the closed circuit televisions in the grandstand and on the Internet, giving gamblers a chance to see each hound before placing their bets. After each greyhound was inspected, their handlers guided them to the back of the room and lined them up facing our direction. It reminded me of a police lineup ("That`s him, that`s the greyhound that stole my sandwich!").
After the hounds were inspected, their handlers walked them outside and onto the track. The track has two starting boxes, one for the 5/16 mile races and one for the longer 3/8 mile races, and the handlers would take the hounds to the appropriate box. Once the hounds were loaded into the box, the handlers would take up positions along the track in order to quickly rescue or intercept any injured or wayward hounds. At post time, the lure the hounds chased after--a foot-long fluffy bone attached to a metal arm that traveled around the inside of the track (nicknamed "Lucky")--started moving down the track. As it passed the starting box, the box opened and the race was on! Kicking up sand as they flew by, the hounds would chase the lure around the trace, crossing the finish line in under 40 seconds (on average) in a 3/8 mile race, and 31 seconds in a 5/16 race.
As post time for each race approached, Deanna would walk outside to the fence around the track (I would usually join her), get her camera ready, and snap picture after picture of the hounds as they went by. We would then go back inside: it was a very hot day, with the temperature at the track around 102 degrees. After the 5th race, Cheryl wanted us to meet Camelot Caroline, one of the hounds from the second race. As we walked back down the path towards the kennels, we saw a number of the hounds from the previous race being cooled down with running water or in large plastic tubs: the panting hounds in the tubs looked quite happy. Our visit with Camelot Caroline was brief--Cheryl wanted Deanna to take some pictures of the hound`s distinct nose to show to another GreyTalk member--and then we returned to the track to watch the rest of the races.
A hound gets to cool off after a race.
After the 11th race, we returned to the kennels one last time to meet up with Jeana. We got back in the van and drove to Jeana`s farm. Our hounds were glad to see us. We let them run around in the exercise yard for a few minutes to give them a chance to relieve themselves, then loaded them into the van for the trip back to the campsite. Cheryl headed home and we fed ourselves and the hounds. We were glad we had an electrical hookup so we could run the camper`s air conditioner: it was still dangerously hot outside. We went to bed soon after dinner.
The next morning, we were all packed up by the time Cheryl stopped by with her greyhound, a chocolate-colored male named Elvis. She had asked Deanna the day before if she would take some pictures of Elvis for her. We could see why Cheryl might have found it difficult to photograph him: Elvis didn`t stand still for more than a second or two. Deanna took a number of pictures of him from various angles, and we petted him and scritched his head before saying goodbye to him and Cheryl.
Soon after they had left, we were on our way to our next destination, Detroit.