Dolly upstaged by a mule

by David Grand
July 3, 2003

Now, I don't know if Dolly, that cloned sheep who went to the big pasture in the sky on Valentine's Day is baa-baaing with envy or sorrow upon hearing from Saint Francis, the patron saint of animals, of the cloning of a frisky mule colt named Idaho Gem. Maybe he didn't have the nerve to tell her.

But if so, I hope she graciously accepted now having to share the limelight in the scientific world with a mule, the offspring of a male donkey and a female horse. She might mope for a while, and irritate the other sheep with her woeful bleats, but in time I'm sure she'll regain her composure and get on with enjoying her blissful existence.

What a highly heralded event Gem's formal coming-out party was last month at the University of Idaho, sans champaign but with a multitude of jubilant partygoers gazing at him admiringly and clicking their cameras like the paparazzi do a celebrity. But Gem remained oblivious to all the hoopla, and was probably yearning for his mama's milk.

Scientists hailed his birth as the long-sought "holy grail" of animal cloning, the first one of a member of the horse family, and the first clone of a sterile animal ever born. But he may soon have to share that distinction with two more cloned mules that are expected to be born at the university's experiment station this summer. Alas, as the slave whispered to the Roman general, "all fame is fleeting."

The researchers primary goal, however, was not to create a herd of long-eared mules, but to eventually adapting the same techniques they used to create him to the world of thoroughbred horses. They've even established a biotech startup firm called Clone E2 to commercialize equine cloning, with visions of test tube Kentucky Derby winners dancing in their heads.

There's been a mixed reaction to the possibility of such a scientific breakthrough within the horse industry. On one hand, the cloning technology is seen as having direct application for breeding purposes. Horse breeding associations, on the other hand, do not approve the cloning of registered breeds, but admit that, now that the technology is on the verge of becoming a reality, they may have a change of heart.

All I know is, that if its proven to be feasible, it would revolutionize the racing industry. It boggles the mind to contemplate being able to clone the likes of such living champions as Cigar, who is best remembered for his 16-race winning streak and earnings of $10 million; John Henry, who's now 28, was winning stake races at the age of nine and is the richest gelding in history); and Funny Cide, another gelding, who won two jewels of the Triple Crown this year.

Oh, if only that potential ability to clone horses was available when such late superstars as Secretariat, Seattle Slew, Affirmed, Spectacular Bid, Ruffian, Northern Dancer, and such long-gone Triple Crown winners in the 30s and 40s like Citation, Gallant Fox, Seabiscut, Whirlaway, War Admiral, and Assault were burning up the tracks with their blazing speed and endurance. Why, their clones' clones could still be galloping today, and winning me big bucks.

Born the same month as Gem was another horse that, at least to me, was also phenomenal: a dwarf, miniature horse with all the physical features of a normal sized horse. It's less than two-feet high and is about as round as a Vietnamese pot-bellied pig. Too close to the ground for even a Pygmy to ride.

I saw him up close at the Camelot Stables outside of Union Mills where I board my horse. The owner of the stables had taken him in to spare him from being euthanized at the miniature horse farm where he was born. She feeds him a dozen baby bottles of special milk a day. And its paid off, for he bucks like a rodeo horse and runs as fast as his foot-high legs will allow.

She named him Sir Galahad, that legendary knight who was successful in his quest for the Holy Grail because of his purity and nobility of spirit. An appropriate name indeed for that gutsy little guy who truly found his Camelot.