On the seventh day of his vigil, Scott Rake hovered over his laptop and rubbed his bleary eyes. His mare, Peaceful Sky, should have given birth by now _ and with her pregnancy at 340 days and counting, he was trying his best not to worry.
Rake, his wife, Angie, and farm manager Heather Haagenson began monitoring Peaceful Sky 24 hours a day once her udder started to swell and she became restless. Haagenson slept in the barn on a pair of chairs. The Rakes kept the laptop on the kitchen counter at their farm near Elko, scrutinizing every twitch of the mare's tail and every toss of her head via the webcam in her stall. Night after night, Rake stared at the screen until 1 or 2 or 3 a.m., then took the laptop to the bedroom so he could sneak in a few minutes of sleep.
"This is really rare," he said, as the anticipation crossed into a second week. "She's really holding on to it. That probably means it's going to be a boy. And it's going to be big."
After milking the suspense for one more day, Peaceful Sky ended it quickly once she finally lay down and groaned. It took only about 20 minutes from the time the first tiny hoof appeared to the moment Haagenson eased a warm, wet, long-legged baby into the straw, just as the evening sun was beginning to fade.
"It's like Christmas," Rake said, as he took pictures with his phone. "What did we get?"
"Three white socks," Haagenson replied. "It's huge. And it's a boy."
Caught up in the euphoria, Rake glanced across the barn aisle at his other new arrival _ a 3-month-old filly _ and blurted out the hope stoked by the birth of every thoroughbred racehorse. "Great," he said. "One for the (Kentucky) Derby, and one for the Oaks."
Far from the bluegrass, during the fitful Minnesota spring, the arrival of every new crop of foals renews grand dreams for breeders like Rake. It's a business that can be as brutal as it is beautiful, requiring good fortune _ in the form of money, as well as luck _ to produce even a winner at Canterbury Park in Minnesota.
Dave Astar, a breeder from Hastings, Minn., estimated it costs nearly $23,000 to breed a foal in Minnesota and raise it through its first year. That investment can grow to more than $54,000 before the horse ever runs. But of the 196 thoroughbred foals born and registered in the state this year, about 25 percent will never even make it to the track.
The sport's tenuous economics in Minnesota make it a financial gamble even when horses do reach the sale ring or starting gate. Astar said relatively low auction prices and earnings potential for state-bred thoroughbreds are suppressing the industry, stalling a growth spurt sparked by purse increases at Canterbury Park.
"We love to do this," said Astar, an authority in statistical analysis who studies the breeding and racing industry. "But the economics are really quite awful. It's a real struggle."
That doesn't deter Minnesota's thoroughbred breeders from taking significant emotional and financial risks year after year, driven by the pursuit of that once-in-a-lifetime horse. For Rake, perhaps it would be Peaceful Sky's foal, who already looked the part.
The baby was trying to get to his feet only half an hour after taking his first breath. Within an hour, he was tottering around the stall, showing off his broad shoulders and stout legs.
Rake fetched the bottle of champagne that had been chilling for eight days. In the twilight, he raised a toast with a red cup, repeating a saying that reflected the boundless faith rekindled with every birth.
"They're all Kentucky Derby contenders," Rake said, "until you find out they're not."
