5am-6am: Track and Field

By SUZANNE McFADDEN

It is still pitch black when Molly, Ruby and Fish trot down the road to work.

Little red lights sparkle on the horses' heads, so people in cars can see them coming.

A jockey skids his ute into the carpark at the Takanini racetrack and, a cigarette still clenched in his mouth, jumps up on one of the horses. They saunter off together. Soon, all you can see in the dark are the tiny red pinpoints of light and the orange glow of the smouldering butt.

It's 5.30 am and half of the horses from the Ritchie stable across the road are already groomed, saddled and stretching out.

Three generations of the Ritchie family rise early to train their equine charges. Merv Ritchie, now in his 80th year, walks over to the stables at 4 am to brush the sawdust out of each horse's mane and tail. Even though he did his apprenticeship back in 1935, he still mucks out the horse boxes without a grumble.

His son, Frank - famous for training racing legend Bonecrusher - is in Australia with one of the stable's stars, Showella. Frank's son, Craig, is in charge. He is the fifth generation of Ritchie men to train champion racehorses, and little has changed.

It is still back-breaking, dirty, dusty work - and a lot of it is done before dawn. "Sure, this is a glamour industry. But when push comes to shove, it's a really hard job," 28-year-old Craig says.

"Not all the trainers start this early, but we've found the benefits for the horses make it well worth it. They don't work as well later in the day - they sweat so much in the heat and get dehydrated."

At 5 am, the horses are still groggy from their night's sleep. Smurf the cat jumps from the rafters on to their backs, and they manage hardly a shudder.

The horses simply grab the cat between their teeth and throw him over the stable door. Unperturbed, he struts straight back in.

When trackwork begins at 5.30 am, a bunch of the world's best trainers gravitate to the rails, watching the jockeys and the apprentices work the horses. Breakfast is still four hours away.

It is the same kind of story dairy farmers tell - the milk comes well before they get their cornflakes.

Deep in the Whangaripo Valley, east of Wellsford, the cows have to be roused from their slumber at 5.30 am to make their drowsy trek to the milking shed.

Father and son Mick and John Came have to be wary of running over the black beasts that are still lying down in the paddock.

The 230 cows cough like old men, and rest their big heads on the haunches of their neighbour as they wait their turn at the cups. Without having to be told, they walk up and replace their sisters whose udders have just been drained.

It is a routine they go through twice a day, every day: the cows stand rigid as their backsides are squirted with cold water, then they chew their cud in time to the pulsing of the electric fence.

They are definitely creatures of habit. Some of the Friesians kick up a fuss if they don't end up on their favoured side of the cowshed. After the night's rest, the cows produce more milk in the morning than at their 3 pm visit to the shed.

The Cames' herd gives about 1200 litres in the morning, from a daily total of 2000 litres. During winter, the tanker comes to empty the vats every second day.

Back in Auckland, about 50,000 litres of milk are processed at the New Zealand Dairy Foods plant in Takanini between midnight and 6 am - 10 per cent of its daily production.

Early risers are by now pouring milk into their constitutional cup of tea. Most New Zealanders rise from their beds between 6 am and 8 am. The average adult will have slept 7.4 hours.

Some are already heading off to exercise - people walk their dogs along the waterfront, and stress-beating executives jog along Takapuna Beach as the sky melts from black to smudgy grey.

A small bunch of fitness fanatics will have already worked out during the night. The door is open 24 hours at the Remuera Gym - to those who punch in the special code.

Half a dozen members come in at 5 am, others dribble in during the night as they finish shift work.

"We often get the odd one in at 3 am before they have to catch a plane," says owner Pippa Innes. "It suits a lot of people's body clocks to work out when everyone else is asleep."

The main roads are beginning to hum again as the new day dawns - at the Constellation Drive interchange, 375 cars and 44 trucks head towards the city between 5 am and 6 am.

For those who cleaned, baked, served, drove, cared, loaded, policed, sorted, restored and played during the night, it is now time to sleep.

Good morning.