Salem Couple's Passion For Dressage Horses Not Exclusive To The Rich
By JASON SIMMS and Special To The Courant
Carey and Kelly Castleberry pose with their horses, Scout and Lantina. (Jason Simms)
Like most people along Kelly Castleberry's route, Brittany Root wouldn't have guessed that her UPS man has dressage horses at home. Though it doesn't entirely surprise her that he'd be interested in animals. "He doesn't seem fazed by our dogs," she says, while cutting shrimp at Old Lyme Seafood (her family owns the business and lives next door). "He's always very bubbly and friendly."
Castleberry's wife, Carey, has a lifetime interest in horses and started riding as a child. However, when they got married 16 years ago, she'd given up riding, but before their first anniversary, her husband bought her a horse.
"It's her passion," he says, "and if you don't have your passion, you're, well, passionless." At the time, he didn't realize that bringing horses into their lives would be a gift to himself as well. "I just love being around them," he says, as he nuzzles and kisses Lantina, or as he calls her, Dinky, an 18-month-old Danish Warmblood filly he helped deliver and has cared for since birth.
Of course, the two to four horses the Castelberrys have at any given time on their 6 acres in Salem can be a bit of a financial burden. During the 2012 presidential campaign, Mitt Romney's claim that he suffered a $77,000 loss on upkeep for his wife Ann's Olympic dressage horse became a political weapon, used by opponents hoping to alienate him from blue collar Americans like Kelly Castleberry, who has worked as a driver at UPS for 25 years.
"There are people who have horses because they can afford them," Carey Castleberry explains "and people like myself who put their last penny into their horse's grain before they eat."
Despite the sport's upperclass image, Carey Castleberry, who works as a paralegal, says she was drawn to it by its egalitarian nature. "Dressage" comes from the French word for "training," and indeed, that is the entire focus of the competition. Scores are rendered solely on the ability of a horse and rider to perform a series of predetermined movements. Breeding doesn't enter into it.
When done well, dressage seems like an illusion. The horse dances on what appear to be "liquid" legs in time to music. According to Carey Castleberry, the only competitive rider in the family, the feeling is unreal, too. "You and your horse are one unit," she says. "You can feel from your head to the horse's toes."
True Caretakers
For the Castleberrys, training is only half the work to get to this point. They do a lot of things themselves to reduce the cost of their hobby. Kelly Castleberry cleared a section of forest and built a riding ring and turnout. When they decided to try breeding a couple of years ago, he installed a video surveillance system in the barn. That's what gave them the first sign something was wrong the night Lantina was born.
"In general, mares foal quickly without assistance," explains Robert Baratt of Salem Valley Veterinary Clinic. "People will often step out of the barn for a bathroom break, come back and the foal is born."
Lantina's mother had been in labor for over an hour by the time Dr. Baratt arrived. The foal was breech and simply wouldn't come out. "We pulled, and I mean, we pulled," says Kelly Castleberry. "We had our feet on the mother."
The foal almost suffocated and was born with legs that curved sideways, which she fortunately outgrew. For the first few weeks, the Castleberrys bottle fed her at three-hour intervals. Lantina is a gorgeous animal now, complete with four white "socks" — a prized rarity.
She'll start training soon, and the Castleberrys have arranged to sell her since they already have a horse for competition. They won't make a profit. Connecticut Dressage Association Recording Secretary Fern Feldman confirms that, when it comes to independent breeders like the Castleberrys, "You breed for the love of the sport or your own interest."
While wealthy competitors are selective about the lineage of their horses, Kelly Castleberry took great care in choosing a future home for his. "I could only sell her to the right person," he says. "They seemed like really good people." Plus, he's looking after a different lineage.
"We're training the next generation of horse women," says Carey Castleberry. It may have skipped a generation — her kids don't have "the horse bug," as she puts it, but two-year-old granddaughter Izabelle seems to be a natural. The Castleberrys even got her a mini horse named Scout.
"There's no next generation if you don't get [kids] into it," Kelly Castleberry says. "I think horses are good for people." In fact, they help him get through the work day. "There's a couple horses and donkeys on my route and I'm talking to all of them," he says.