Silky Sullivan

Silky Sullivan (February 28, 1955 – November 18, 1977) was an American thoroughbred race horse, the come-from-behind runner of come-from-behind runners, the closer of closers.

Silky Sullivan was a Racehorse

Before Silky, out of all the legendary closers (Whirlaway, Stymie, Needles, Forego, John Henry, even Gallant Man), none could hang so far back, let the field get so far ahead, and then decide to overtake the rest of the runners like a bullet shot from a gun. Called the "California Comet" and ridden often in his career by the great National Museum of Racing and Hall of Fame jockey, Willie Shoemaker (The Shoe), Silky once lalloped along in a race until the field was 41 lengths in front of him—and still won by three lengths. To accomplish such heart-stopping feats, he had to clock the last quarter in 22 seconds flat. On one occasion, it was a hair over 20 seconds flat. His trainer, the West Coast veteran Reggie Cornell, said, "I've never seen a horse in my life, or heard of one either, go faster." (Reggie Cornell trained for movie star Betty Grable and her husband bandleader Harry James. He was the uncle and mentor of the hall-of-famer, Ron McAnally, who trained the great gelding, John Henry.)

The Shoe once said of Silky, "You can't do a thing with him, you just have to allow him to run his own race, at his own speed, in his own style in the first quarter or maybe the first three eighths. And you just sit there and wait, hoping you won't have to wait too long, because when he really gets going you have to be alert or he might just leave you behind—and then you hold on for dear life."

Silky could also leave the starting gate like any other racehorse, run a few yards, and then virtually slow to a mosey for a while, never doing more than loping along, despite the best efforts of his jockey, finally coming in a very distant last. Whether it was due to an arthritic condition (one theory) or whether it was because he was a born showman (another, very popular, theory—which holds up rather well since Silky always did his stuff in front of the grandstand), or whether it was because he caught a cold as a two-year-old and forever after could not breathe properly until well into a race, or whether he was a natural born sprinter entered into long races he had to learn to win by saving his incredible power for the last minute (a very credible theory), with Silky, nothing was ever predictable.

And yet out of his 27 career starts, he was in the money 18 times with 12 Wins, 1 Place, and 5 Shows. His career earnings were $157,700. Purses were much smaller when Silky raced, but it wasn't the money or the wins that made Silky "Silky." It was the style.

Pedigree

Bred by a Pasadena, California dentist, Dr. Riley H. Roberts, and his wife, Mrs. Nell Frances Roberts, and foaled in a 6X6 foot stall in the rear of their two acre Moreno lot in the foothills above Pasadena (possibly called Merryman Farm: there seems to be some confusion about this), Silky arrived on the morning of February 28, 1955. The manager told the Roberts that their new foal had "the biggest rump on him he'd ever seen." Silky would spend the first six months of his life there and from the beginning it was obvious he would develop into a big muscular horse. He was also amiable from birth, gentle and tolerant, and his name was well earned. He had a coat of silken chestnut red with a white star on his forehead and a front left white pastern. Obviously self-aware and self-confident, Silky cantered with a deeply arched neck.

Silky's pedigree seems undistinguished. His sire, Sullivan, rated strictly as a sprinter, raced in Ireland as a two-year old, winning only one of his starts, though when he came to California, he did a little better, winning five out of eight. In 1957, Sullivan had one other stakes winner, Sully's Trail. But Silky's dam, Lady N Silk, a non winner in four starts (and rescued from the Santa Anita track in 1951 by Dr. Roberts before she could be destroyed due to a T-crack in her left front foot), had Fair Play three generations back in her pedigree. Fair Play was the sire of Man O' War (ranked in Blood-Horse magazine's top 100 U.S. Thoroughbred Champions of the 20th Century as number 1). Her chart also shows the famous European stallion Phalaris as the great great grandsire of Silky Sullivan. Lady N Silk had two foals before Silky: the stakes placed Doc Utpon (named for the track vet who'd notified the Roberts about Lady N Silk's injury) and Lady Selena, a winner.

On both sides of his pedigree Silky's bloodline can be traced back to the Godolphin Arabian.

Racing Days the Silky Sullivan Way

The big flame-red chestnut was sent to "Three Rings Ranch" in Beaumont, California to be conditioned for the yearling sales. It was during his time at this ranch that others noticed not only his size (Jack Lynaugh, in charge of the younger horses, called him "John L." after John L. Sullivan), but his gentle nature. Lynaugh said the thing that endeared Silky to him..."was all the personality he had, more than any horse I've ever handled, and I've handled thousands since starting in this business in 1932. I've always been crazy about him. When the other yearlings were let out of the paddock, Silky would wait until they were half way across the 28 acre pasture, then take out after them. He always wound up on top, just like his races."

Silky had a close brush with gelding. At Devonshire, he'd learned to unlock the stall snap with his teeth. Once free, he'd then run up and down the breezeway paying midnight visits to the other yearlings in their stalls. One night, up to his usual tricks, he got his lip caught in the snap which required several sutures to close. He'd been on a list of yealings to geld, but because of his sore lip Cornell decided to wait. Fortunately for Silky, his time never came. It was because of his sore mouth that he could not bear a bit, so was taught to rein by pressure on his neck. It made him a delight to ride which his jockeys never failed to mention.

Silky was picked out of the 1956 California Thoroughbred Breeders Association's Del Mar yearling sales by Phil Klipstein (a retired cattleman from Bakersfield) and Tom Ross (a successful lumberman from Oakland), and purchased for $10,700. He was then sent to Devonshire Downs in San Fernando to train under Reggie Cornell. Over the course of his life, that almost $11,000 outlay bought his owners and his trainer millions of dollars in not necessarily purses, and not just publicity, but the stuff of legends.

Silky's first race was a 5 1/2 furlong dash for maidens at Hollywood Park on May 17th, 1957. It wasn't much of a race, one of those overnight claiming affairs, but Reggie Cornell needed a winner. Watching Silky run this first one in a field of twelve, supposedly guided by his first jockey, George Taniguchi, Cornell said, "He came out of the gate in a trance and a truss and I said, here's one for the glue factory. Then all of a sudden, it was like he was stung by a bee. Until he made that big move, I thought I'd be looking for a job." Taniguchi said, "He broke with the field and then it was as if he was sucked back, and I thought, oh my God, what's he doing? He was immediately 15 or 20 lengths behind the other horses. I let him go like that until the thee-eights pole and finally gave him a tap on the shoulder, and then he changed gears. I never thought we'd catch up, we were so far back, but I never rode anything like that before. We were flying." On the 17th day of May, Cornell discovered this was a colt who set his own style, made his own decisions—and there would be no planning his races, no jockey holding him back or spurring him on.

Silky made his first pass at immortality the Silky Sullivan way on December 7, 1957. He was two years old and he won the one-mile $25,000 Golden Gate Futurity after making up 27 lengths, thereby establishing a running style that became legendary. Horsemen still invoke the name of Silky Sullivan when referring to a horse that runs from far off the pace. Many who saw him that day thought at first he was injured because of his loping, ineffective gait. Not only that, he was still last entering the stretch. But his jockey, hall-of-famer Manuel Ycaza, said later, "When I asked him to run, he answered and ran like a machine, like a rocket. You felt there was something special because nobody had seen anything like that. It takes a helluva lot of running when you're 20 lengths behind. You have to be greased lightning."

After that, Jockey Club Handicapper Frank E. Kilroe decided Silky bore watching. He also assigned him higher weights to carry.

The next year, when he was three, he ran in a mile race on January 30th, 1958. In that race two horses had been furiously dueling for the lead: Circle Lea ridden by Ray York (Circle Lea by Admiral Lea out of Bull Lea, was one of the most promising two-and-three-year-olds in the country) and The Shoe ridden by Willie Shoemaker. When the tote board flashed a photo finish, York was sure he'd nosed out Shoemaker. "I beat you this time, Willie," gloated York. "Yeah," agreed a very dry Shoemaker, "but you didn't beat that sucker on the outside." While York and Shoemaker were in the midst of their duel resulting in a photo for second place, Silky Sullivan had swept by and beaten them both by a neck. A short while later he came from 40 lengths out of it to lose by a neck to Old Pueblo in the $67,360 California Breeders' Champion Stakes. The chart caller, Al Willig, had just about taken him out of the calls on the assumption that Silky had pulled up. Eddie Arcaro, riding Old Pueblo, and leading in the early stretch, looked over his right shoulder and saw nothing coming. (Someone said he should have looked over his left shoulder; if he had he could have seen Silky still in the backstretch.) Ignoring the winner, Old Pueblo (another of the most promising colts then racing: he was six for six as a two-year-old, with a lifetime record of 10 wins in 13 starts), the crowd gave Silky a prolonged and deafening ovation. Even Arcaro had this to say: "He's just a running fool. He runs that last eighth in 10 seconds flat—or less. You feel like you're standing still. Sometimes when he comes up alongside, you are." In Silky's next start on February 25, 1958, he came from 41 lengths behind to win a 6 1/2-furlong allowance race. In that race, rushing up, and then—confronted by the bunched up field flying for home—Silky simply went wide around them all, passing the leader in plenty of time to hit the wire first. Those who were there that day still have trouble believing it.

In 1958's Santa Anita Derby (GI), which is California's main Kentucky Derby prep race, 61,123 people showed up, making the attendance that April day a record crowd. They came for Silky. Before the race even began, most of that number began to scream and stomp for the big, handsome chestnut who was already more than a racehorse, he was a Hollywood matinee idol. He was up against nine very fast three-year-olds including Old Pueblo who'd just beaten him in the Breeder's Champion Stakes. Silky's running in the $130,500 Santa Anita Derby was Silky Sullivan to a T. In the first five furlongs, he fell 28 lengths off the pace. But when Bill Shoemaker rattled his bit and gave him a little chirrup, asking him to please speed it up (no hitting Silky with a whip, he might just stop), he took off, flying past horse after horse with his incredible distance-consuming stride. But instead of looping the field, Silky cut to the inside, then zigzagged through the pack like a halfback until he was three and one half lengths in front at the finish line—and going away. Towards the end, he was easing himself up, apparently satisfied with his effort. Considering how slowly Silky was going in the beginning of the race and how quickly at the end, and that his time was the second fastest on record for the Santa Anita Derby, you have to wonder what that time might have been if he'd actually bothered to run the whole thing. It's often noted that Silky Sullivan ran final fractions faster than any horse in recorded history.

Klipstein had a heart condition prompting his doctor to forbid him to watch Silky's races. But both owners, despite doctor's warnings, attended that day. Both of them had to be helped to the winner's circle.

In one race, they trained one camera especially at Silky...who, when he came, came so fast the camera failed to pick him up.

It's been pointed out that when he made his moves, if he made his moves, it was so dynamic, that in the last 16th of a mile, he could make up a whole five lengths. It's also been pointed out that a horse's length is about 8 feet. In his 6 1/2 furlong sprint Silky was behind 41 lengths. This amounts to about 110 yards or 330 feet. No wonder people couldn't believe their eyes.

Shoemaker once said Silky got so far behind that he couldn't see another horse...not because of dirt in his face but because the whole field was so far ahead. Silky won.

It became commonplace to hear the race caller cry (quite a bit towards the end of a race): "And heerrrre comes Silky Sullivan!" It also became commonplace for people to upend trash cans after a race. Seeing Silky so far back, they'd torn up their tickets in despair, and then became desperate to find them when the big red colt won.

As for vanity, Silky was a ham, a true showboater. Arthur Daley of the New York Times said, "He'd pose faster than Jayne Mansfield." Joe Burnham, who for twenty years traveled the country photographing races and race horses, was asked which was the most photogenic race horse he'd ever snapped. "Why, Silky Sullivan, of course." But it was his intelligence that made Silky Silky. Willie Shoemaker swore, "He knows when to move inside and then out. He knows when to make his winning move." "He's so smart," added Cornell, "that he could win at five-eighths. He's got speed whenever he wants it. He just knows when to turn it on."

Silky's Kentucky Derby

The 84th running of the Kentucky Derby was held on May 3, 1958, and though he had neither the pedigree nor the accomplishments to tempt most professional horseplayers to put real money on him, Silky Sullivan was joint favorite with the Jimmy Jones trained and regally bred Tim Tam (see pedigree below), a dark bay son of the great Tom Fool (ranked at number 11 by Blood-Horse magazine in the 100 best thoroughbred racehorses of the Twentieth Century) out of the winning mare Two Lea (ranked at number 77), and herself the daughter of Bull Lea, Calumet Farm's famous sire of champions. Bull Lea had already produced three winners of the Kentucky Derby: Citation in 1948, Hill Gail in 1952, and Iron Liege in 1957. Indeed, Citation took the Triple Crown of Thoroughbred Racing in his year, winning the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness, and the Belmont Stakes. Yet it was Silky, whose chestnut head with braided mane and green shadow roll (in honor of St. Patrick's Day) graced the cover of the April 28 issue of Sports Illustrated, and who featured in Life magazine's March 24 edition. People were taking his running of the Derby seriously. There were more $2 tickets sold on Silky than any horse in history. The race was obviously considered, by many, whether he won or lost, to be Silky Sullivan's Kentucky Derby.

Turning down an offer to buy him for $350,000, his owners sent him East. After a 7-hour 43-minute flight from San Francisco, Silky arrived in Louisville like a star—with an entourage of two stablemates, a pony, a groom, a stable boy, a veterinarian, an execise boy, and a trunk of clippings. Reggie Cornell called him "The Silk Man," and for his Derby decked him out in red leg bandages, a red shadow roll, a red saddle blanket, a set of unconventional steel shoes made by the famous farrier, Duke Bonde (Cornell said he hit the turf so hard with his hooves, he bent aluminum), and a specially made supersize surcingle to get round his enormous girth. At 16 hands and weighing 1200 pounds, Silky dwarfed the other 3-year-olds. He was strong, sturdy, and well muscled. So well muscled, Klipstein once said, "Silky has a neck like a Percheron." As William Robertson put it in his comprehensive "The History of Thoroughbred Racing in America" (published in 1964): "In a field of typical thoroughbreds mincing to the post, Silky resembled a battleship under escort." Others compared him to an idealized warhorse. "And yet," said Duke Bonde, "for a big stud, he was really quite gentle."

In Louisville, the drugstores were selling Silky Sundaes. Silky Irish whiskeys were downed in bars. Yet, inexplicably, considering the tremendous effort Silky expended on his races, on the Saturday before the Derby, Cornell entered his horse in the seven-furlong Steppingstone Purse at Churchill Downs. Even though it rained, a great crowd showed up to see Silky run. Silky didn't much care for mud. Of course, he dropped back by his usual 32 lengths, but when he finally made his run, mud or no mud, he began passing horses as if they were standing still. By the finish line, he was fourth and still coming, beaten only by 2 1/2 lengths. One clocker (see external links for horse racing terms) had him covering the last eighth of a mile in a sizzling 10 2/5 seconds. Willie Shoemaker said, "They'll never beat this horse in the Derby."

CBS used a "split screen" for its telecast of the 1958 Kentucky Derby, necessitated by the presence of Silky, knowing he would be running far off the pace. Most of the screen was allotted to the main group of runners, but the lower right corner was given over to Silky Sullivan. Writing in 2002, the sports writer William F. Reed said, "Besides the split-screen, Fred Caposella, calling the race for CBS, mentioned Silky's name five times and Tim Tam's only once during the first mile and an eighth. At the end, the score was Silky 6, Tim Tam 4."

On the Kentucky Derby site, in its historical section under the year-by-year Derby charts, this is the description of Silky's effort that first Saturday in May. "SILKY SULLIVAN broke well but was allowed to stride while saving ground until final turn where he made only a brief and ineffectual bid of less than a sixteenth mile and refused to extend himself thereafter."

"Refused to extend himself thereafter." That was Silky Sullivan—who hated mud. Asked to deliver the kind of enormous all-out energy Silky put into a race twice in a little over one week seems more than even he could manage. It was certainly more than any other thoroughbred racehorse would be expected to do.

Tim Tam won. He also won that year's Preakness. In the Belmont, he broke a sesamoid bone in his right foreleg coming down the stretch, yet still came in second. (At the race that day was a man who'd created a new chocolate biscuit. Perhaps unfortunately, he thought Tim Tam was the perfect name to call his creation.)

The East Coast press took to calling "California's Comet"—"California's Clown." They said he had only one move. They said he might be able to pull his come-from-the-next-race stunts on lesser California horses, but no horse could spot the patrician Easterner Tim Tam 30 lengths and expect to win. They did not mention he'd given his all only a week before the Derby in the Steppingstone Purse, a race he would have won if it had been just that little bit longer, and that he had less than a week to recover for the race of his life. Nor did anyone concern themselves with the cold Silky caught racing in the Kentucky rain, a cold that exacerbated the respiratory problems that increasingly bothered him. Or that the Derby's track was mud and hard going for such a heavy California-run-in-the-sun horse who wasn't used to it, or that the wind buffeted a horse his size, or that his hooves slipped as he tried to launch his usual whirlwind finish. They certainly didn't mention that even with all these difficulties Silky made up 30 lengths in his late drive for the finish line. But no matter what they said or did not say, California loved Silky. There's also this to consider. When he did decide to run, he ran faster than anything on four legs. It all came down to Silky. Would he, or wouldn't he? Silky was his own racehorse.

There are people today who know nothing of a horse called Silky Sullivan except that he once won the Kentucky Derby, right?

California's Horse

More popular in California than Funny Cide in New York, Smarty Jones in Philadelphia, or Afleet Alex, Silky Sullivan was the Seabiscuit of his day. But while Seabiscuit's story includes an owner, a trainer, a jockey, and the Great American Depression, all of equal interest, Silky Sullivan was a star all by himself. It was his story and his light that drew the crowds. Traveling throughout the state, people came out in their thousands to see him run, or later, when he retired after his 4-year-old season, just to see the horse they called "Mr. Heart Attack." During his racing career, if he won a race, they cheered. If he lost, they ignored the winner, and cheered Silky. Later, they seemed to love him more. For the rest of his life, they sent him birthday and Christmas cards. They baked him cakes. They cheered when he was paraded by each year, beginning in 1965, at Golden Gate Fields for Saint Patrick's Day and at Santa Anita for the Santa Anita Derby. He had his own secretary to answer his mail.

When the founder of San Francisco's British Motor Car Distributors, Ltd., Kjell Qvale, heard Silky was for sale, he made an immediate offer. In 1963, Silky Sullivan became Kjell's who cared for him for fourteen years. Kjell (pronounced "Shell") would take Silky to the winner's circle, his mane braided with green and white pom poms, and every time, ears pricked, head held high, Silky would turn his rump on his audience, then kick out both hind legs. Kjell Qvale said no one taught him to do that, but it never failed—the people cheered. No matter what Silky did, the people loved him.

Speaking of Silky's Kentucky Derby, Kjell said, "I understand he had some temperature a few days before the Derby. I don't know if that's true. He may have gone too fast too early." To this day there's no accounting for why Silky would run in one race and not another. Some horses run their hearts out no matter when, no matter where. Some horses race well early on and then come, for one reason or another, to dislike it. Some horses hate to race and can't be made to try. And then there was Silky.

At stud at Qvale's 60 acre Green Oaks Stud Farm nestled amongst the vineyards in Napa Valley, 40 miles NE of Golden Gate Fields, Silky Sullivan wasn't much of a contender. At a $500 stud fee, what could he pass on? His sweet disposition? His easy going nature? His huge appetite? That personality? No. There was only one Silky Sullivan, and no doubt that record, at least, will always be his.

He did manage to sire a few winners. Mr. Payne and Son of Silky (see external links for pedigrees) were both dual stakes winners. On August 2, 1965, Mr. Payne copied his famous father's "come-from-behind" style with a stirring victory in the Oceanside Handicap, and then the La Jolla Mile Handicap. Son of Silky won the Omaha Gold Cup and the Centennial Derby. In 1968, another of his sons, Silky's Image, owned and bred by Qvale, won the Silky Sullivan Purse. At this very moment, in Cheshire, England, there stands at Pickmere Stud a stallion called Pickmere Mistral. Silky's daughter Silky Starlet foaled Tromeros out of Camden Town who sired Pickmere Pure Gold who was dam to Pickmere Mistral. Silky's blood still flows and who knows when, if ever, a little Silky will run again.

There's a lot of Silky Sullivan in today's quarter horses as well. The owners of good quarter horses brought him some of their best mares in the hopes of a foal with his explosive kick.

Silky Sullivan was found in his stall at his last home in Pleasanton on November 18th, 1977, dying in his sleep at the age of twenty two. Kjell Qvale was on the operating table when Silky passed, undergoing heart surgery. Alice Campbell, the wife of his last keeper, the trainer Emmett Campbell, phoned the Qvale family with the news, and Mrs. Qvale felt it fortunate that Kjell was still groggy when told of Silky's passing. If all California loved Silky, Kjell perhaps loved him more. "There was no horse like him," said Kjell, "He was a gentleman. He'd let children walk under his belly, let them sit on his back and kick him giddy-up...but let an adult try that, and he'd—very gently—remove them. Silky was a person, a unique person, and I miss him."

"It was fun while it lasted," said the original co-owner Ross (or Klipstein), whose heart outlasted Silky's by only a month and a half.

Legend

Before Seabiscuit, there was Man O 'War. After Seabiscuit, the only other horse to so fire the public imagination, at least in California, was Silky Sullivan in the 1950s and 60s. California, during his racing years, was practically hysterical over him. They met his train, sent him gifts, screamed through his races...and for many years, a large percentage of them came out to cheer his public appearances.

Silky's made it into the lexicon. His name is now a horse-racing term for hanging back until the last possible moment before making a huge bid for the win—not always successfully. Once run in March, Silky's stakes race now takes place in November: the $100,000 9 furlongs Silky Sullivan Handicap (gr. III T) for 3-year-olds on the grass at California's Golden Gate Fields. (His race is probably turf because the tendency of turf courses is to favor horses with a strong late kick.) Silky is buried at Golden Gate Fields...in the infield to the left of the toteboard. Silky Sullivan, considered by many to be the greatest closer of all time, is the only horse buried there. The track promised that by St. Patrick's Day of 2006 there would be a new monument in the shape of a horseshoe over him. Meanwhile, in the winner's circle, a bronze plaque bears a long tribute by one of his most ardent fans, one stanza of which goes: "Out of the gate like a bullet of red, Dropping behind as the rest sped ahead, Loping along as the clubhouse fans cheer, Leisurely stalking the field in first gear."

Verse

"I don't mind when they say I can't pick 'em/I don't mind when my choice comes in last;/And though each time I bet/I go deeper in debt,/I don't mind when my nags are outclassed./I don't mind when the track turns out muddy,/And a storm of bleak squalls dulls the day;/But I let out a groan/When I'm called to the phone/Just when Silky starts making his play." —Ted M. Tillson, fan, Los Angeles Times, 1958

Footnotes

The Shoe was larger than life. He rode coast to coast. He rode the legendary horses of the century. Besides Swaps, he rode Gallant Man, Round Table and Silky Sullivan. He rode Top 100 U.S. thoroughbred champions of the 20th Century Buckpasser and Damascus and Ack Ack. He rode John Henry and Northern Dancer and Forego. The Shoe rode against those most racetrack aficionados consider the greatest jockeys who ever lived—Johnny Longden, Eddie Arcaro and Angel Cordero. Bill Shoemaker died in 2003.
The Thoroughbred of California told its readers: "We vow faithfully to write of Silky Sullivan as if he were a horse. Which, of course, is ridiculous."
Some say it was Tom Ross who had the heart problem, but it's a certainty that one of his two owners could not watch Silky run for fear of his life. (It seems, according to the March 17th, 1958 issue of Sports Illustrated, both men had a heart condition. That must account for the confusion.)
"Missed him entirely," said the announcer.
A layer of sheepskin over a horse's nose to protect his/her eyes from dirt kicked up on the track. The way Silky ran, he needed it.
Which is more than Silky often did.
Some say it was $500,000 and came from an Eastern syndicate who proposed that Silky join a Circus and tour the Nation. Klipstein expressed interest but Ross thought the idea was a crime. Cornell was all for it. He thought Silky should have hit every country fair in the U.S.
Still hopeful, Cornell entered Silky. He wandered in eighth.
An ardent supporter of horse racing, Kjell Qvale was born in Norway and raised in Seattle, Washington. He served as president of the Pacific Racing Association (Golden Gate Fields) for 25 years, then as Chairman of the Board of the California Jockey Club (Bay Meadows). He also donated major medical equipment to his favorite tracks to assist not only with jockey injuries, but with the injuries to the horses he loved. In his late eighties, he still goes every working day to British Motors, the San Francisco company he founded in 1947, and he still runs horses at Golden Gate Fields.
To see Silky's great great great grandson see External links (Silky's blood flows on).
Tim Tam outlasted Silky by five years, dying in 1982.

External links

Thoroughbred racehorses | Racehorses trained in the United States | American racehorses | Famous horses | Animal monuments

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