His back is swayed like a Nike swoosh. His shaggy coat, a sign of age, would warm a woolly mammoth.
At 28 - ancient for horses - Deputed Testamony looks like he should live at Charlestown. The retirement community, not the racetrack.
Yet there he was, at 8 a.m., cavorting like a youngster in a grassy 2 1/2 -acre paddock at Bonita Farm in Darlington.
In a nearby paddock, another stallion ambled nearer. In a flash, Deputed Testamony crested his neck in defiance and gave the interloper the stink eye.
Hardly the spirit you'd expect of the oldest surviving Preakness winner.
"He's like an old man, with hair growing from his ears and nose, but he still kicks up his heels," said Kevin Boniface, trainer at the Harford County farm.
Twenty-five years ago, Deputed Testamony defeated the field on a sloppy track in an upset victory for the Maryland-bred colt. No homegrown thoroughbred has won the Preakness since.
If he's staying alive until he can pass the torch, Deputed Testamony might have to live forever, Maryland horsemen say.
Of the 132 Preakness champions, eight have been Maryland-breds, half of them coming in the 19th century. And these days, there are simply fewer potential Deputed Testamonys out there.
In the past 10 years, the state has produced 28 percent fewer foals as breeders take their business elsewhere. In 2006, the most recent year for which numbers are available, Maryland produced 852 thoroughbreds, down from 1,189 a decade earlier and less than half of the state's record foal crop of 2,075 in 1987.
Why the slide? Breeders have abandoned Maryland for states whose tracks have slots-enriched purses.
"Our place in the horse universe has dropped a peg or two," said Mike Pons, business manager of Country Life Farm and former president of the Maryland Horse Breeders Association.
The exodus has taken its toll on places like Country Life Farm, the state's oldest thoroughbred breeding facility.
"In five years, we've lost 50 of our 75 mares to states with slots - Pennsylvania, West Virginia and New York," Pons said. "And fewer home-breds means you get less at-bats to reach the Preakness."
Jeannine Edwards, an ESPN racing reporter who lives in Cecil County, echoes Pons' point.
"Breeders are responding to the financial dynamics of the sport in Maryland," Edwards said. "The better quality mares and stallions are going elsewhere."
