'Colt' of personality surrounds star horse

It was mid-summer, the church looked gorgeous, and family and friends dotted the premises. But as Shannon Barbour stood at the altar next to her husband-to-be, she started "zoning out." While the priest spoke, Barbour turned her attention to the pretty murals adorning the church walls.

"They were so beautiful that I just started thinking about Barbaro and wondering what he was doing, how he was, what the updates were I was missing," she said.

Experiencing an emotional high from seeing so many loved ones in attendance, Barbour decided to say a long prayer for the horse that kept racing through her mind. After the wedding festivities had died down, Barbour felt it necessary to cancel her honeymoon.

"I couldn't bear to be anywhere else but near the computer where I could check on" Barbaro, she said. "It sounds crazy, but literally every minute of the day I'm thinking about that horse."

Barbour, who lives in Canada, is a member of an ever-growing group of people hailing from all over the world who have gathered together on horse trainer Tim Woolley's Web site to check daily updates on Barbaro's condition and to chat with each other about Barbaro, horseracing and life.

They have self-anointed themselves the "Barbaro Maniacs" or, more soberly, the "Fans of Barbaro," and though many have never met face-to-face, they have developed a close-knit community stemming from their shared love for the horse they tenderly refer to as "Bobby."

It has been nearly five months since 2006 Kentucky Derby winner and Pennsylvania native Barbaro fractured his right hind leg in three places during the running of the Preakness. Ever since that career-ending injury, Barbaro has been recuperating at the Penn Veterinary School's New Bolton Center - a picturesque animal health-care facility in Kennett Square, Pa., replete with verdant fields and grazing cows.

The thoroughbred racehorse has defied the odds not only in his arduous recovery but in the persistence of his mystique: While common sense would dictate that his story would have faded into oblivion by now, he continues to occupy the front pages of newspapers and the forefront of many people's thoughts.

When Barbaro first arrived at New Bolton - widely considered the world's premier equine care facility - the center had to employ extra operators to handle the massive influx of get-well calls coming in from around the country. E-mails arrived by the thousands, and the office was inundated with three cartons-full of mail and truckloads of flowers each day. In those early days, when Barbaro's survival was a question mark, New Bolton Director Corinne Sweeney said she received particularly touching cards from children who had written to Barbaro as class assignments.

"One young boy wrote, 'Dear Barbaro, I don't even know if you read English,'" Sweeney recalled.

Though the outpouring of support has since decreased in volume, Barbaro still receives countless cards and baskets of apples, carrots, sugar cubes and horse treats each day, while New Bolton's staff is often furnished with bagels, juice, coffee and pizza at the expense of Barbaro's supporters. The center has also received significant monetary donations in Barbaro's honor, and an anonymous donor even launched a Barbaro Fund to improve New Bolton's equipment and services.

None of this money, however, is meant to pay Barbaro's medical bill. In an interview with National Public Radio in May, Penn surgeon Dean Richardson estimated that Barbaro's care would cost tens of thousands of dollars, not necessarily including long-term nursing and rehabilitation costs.

On behalf of the Barbaro Maniacs, local flower shop Kennett Florist and its owner Ali Berstler recently planned a surprise birthday party for Richardson that included a carrot cake from Barbaro and another cake sporting a picture of the doctor's famous patient.

To accompany the more common gifts, Barbaro has received holy water, stuffed animals, photos of people's pets, rosary beads, a wedding invitation, a box of Chinese goodies with his name written in Chinese characters, an elaborately decorated mask, a statue of St. Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of animals, and even an American flag flown in Afghanistan during Operation Enduring Freedom.

According to Alex Brown, a former admissions director for the Wharton School's MBA program and an exercise rider at the Maryland facility where Barbaro trained, the horse's enduring appeal has a lot to do with his exceptional athleticism - he was undefeated before the Preakness and had won the Derby by the widest margin since 1946 - and with his determination to overcome adversity. But Brown, who is also the creator and manager of the Web site frequented by the Barbaro Maniacs, added that Barbaro's cult of personality is predicated on more than just these factors.

"Here is an athlete who is brilliant at what he did, but he wouldn't hold out for a contract, he wouldn't [expletive] up on drugs," he said. "He's a cool dude and people like that. Everything else in the world sucks, you can't look at the news without being horrified by human behavior, and yet here is a horse that just wants to survive."

Sweeney said that when a group of Barbaro Maniacs traveled to New Bolton in September, one woman approached her afterward and said that the day had been the third happiest of her life, trailing only the day she married her husband and the day she received a heart transplant.

Carole Shaw, a Barbaro Maniac from New Hampshire, said that she was drawn to the horse because its injury parallels one suffered by her mother. A few weeks after Barbaro's injury, Shaw learned that her mother had fallen and shattered her right ankle. Exactly like Barbaro, her mother endured a five-hour surgery, received screws and a titanium plate in her right leg, was fitted with a number of leg casts and underwent a demanding rehabilitation regimen. When Shaw would call the hospital to check on her mother, she couldn't help but ask the nurse: "How's Barbaro's roommate?"

While the Barbaro Maniacs - people of all ages with widely varying levels of experience with horses - initially frequented the Tim Woolley Web site primarily for Barbaro, they have since turned the site into an activist page for horse-related issues. Among their many initiatives: They recently planned and financed a surprise birthday party for a horse trainer named Mike Rea, who incurred severe brain damage in a horse-riding accident, sent gift baskets to a horse - Lost in the Fog - who was battling cancer in California and "adopted" horses that had survived a tragic trailer accident in Missouri and had been bound for a slaughter house.

"I don't know if you've seen a picture of" Barbaro, Barbaro Maniac Carol Nichols, from Pennsylvania, said. "It's almost like he's been here before and knows more than we do when you look into his eyes. . I think he's here for a reason, to bring people together. I think it was God's will to be perfectly honest with you."

Motivated by Barbaro, Barbour has sponsored an injured gelding near her area and gotten a job at a local track helping a trainer. She calls Barbaro's ability to inspire others the "Barbaro Effect."

In August, when Barbaro was allowed to graze outside for the first time since his accident, Barbour was so enthused that she created a video featuring pictures of Barbaro over the span of his recovery with musical accompaniment.

In the last few months, the Barbaro Maniacs have devoted much of their time to promoting legislation that would ban the practice of horse slaughter in the United States for consumption in foreign markets. The bill is currently in committee in the Senate.

Some of the Barbaro Maniacs hold a nightly online vigil for the colt on AOL, while others light virtual candles for him at greatfulness.org, a Web site that allows people to express thankfulness for something, on a regular basis.

The Maniacs have even gotten into the habit of taking a moment to send Barbaro get-well wishes every second Saturday at 7 in the evening.

As for Barbour's husband, it is usually in his best interest to think about the horse more frequently.

"He knows now that when he comes home from work, if he doesn't ask how Barbaro is, he isn't going to get his dinner," Barbour said.

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