The Old Red Mares

The old red mares ain't what they used to be. I am talking about me and Silk. Today, Silk fell when she was running around in the pasture with Siete. The ground was slippery, and she crashed down on her right side. It took my breath away and hers. Fortunately, she got up and seems to be moving around okay. She's 19 years old and has quite a bit of arthritis in her hocks.

Stiffness has been on my mind and in my bones a lot recently. I got some excellent advice from a fellow blogger, ljb, about ways to stretch out Siete. She wrote about it at thehorseytherapist.blogspot.com. One of the things she mentioned is that perhaps I'm stiff and that may be part of the problem. She's right. After spreading tons of compost on my garden beds and digging out heaping piles of wet heavy mud and hay mess in the horses' corral, I am so stiff.

It must be a message coming at me from the blogosphere. The same day I heard from ljb, I checked in on greyhorsematters.blogspot.com, another favorite blog of mine. She was writing about the importance of exercise and stretching for the aging rider - for all riders actually. She had some good references of videos and books designed for equestrians.

So, I am going to get with the program. My stepson is arriving in a week, and he promises to give me Tai Chi lessons while he visits us. I've pulled out my yoga mat and my exercise ball. But first, I'm going to take some Aleve and a little nap.

Trust In the Wind

The weather today is crazy. It started out this morning in the 50's and they are predicting the temperature will drop to 29 tonight. The horses really feel the change. As I turned them out in the pasture, the wind began to whip up. Yesterday, they spent the whole day in their stalls and corral because it was raining. Siete was frustrated and paced around, like a little kid who wanted to play outside.

In the interest of fairness, I always lead Silk out first to the pasture, and when I bring them in, Siete goes first. It teaches Siete a bit of patience to have to wait for her mama to be walked calmly to the pasture while she watches eagerly over her stall door.

Today, Siete was desperate to get out there. Based on past experience, I was expecting her to try to charge out of her stall. I don't let her do that, so we have had some battles of will. Instead, to my surprise, she waited all pent up until I gestured for her to follow me and then pranced like a circus horse next to me. With each step, she squealed with excitement. I could see how hard she was working to contain her energy. The squealing reminded me of my daughter and her friends when they are revved up over something. I started laughing.

Once I opened the pasture gate and we danced politely inside, I unclipped the lead rope. Siete waited for me to step out of the pasture before she leaped straight up in the air with all four feet off the ground. I felt a definite difference in her acceptance of me as her leader, a new trust that probably resulted from our experiences with the antibiotics and the Lyme Disease. Even though she could hardly wait to kick up her heels and take off, she knew that as long as I was in there, she should stand still.

My horses notice every move I make, so I try to instill respect and calmness into everything we do together. Now, if I could only do that with my daughter as well.

Does A Horse Enjoy Being Trained?

Now that I'm meeting new friends in the blogosphere, I'd like to pose a question that I've been mulling over alot recently: Does a horse enjoy being trained? I've read that horses want to feel useful, so I think that they should enjoy learning if it is presented to them in a kind and engaging manner.

Silk was incredibly well-trained by two famous Western trainers, Charlie Cole and Cynthia Cantleberry. Then, she was sold to several people, and along the way, someone abused her. When I bought her, I had to work hard to earn her trust and affection, but her training under saddle was impeccable --far beyond my wildest dreams. When I ride her, I just have to think what I want to do and she does it. She teaches me much more than any horse I've ever ridden. Now, I face the challenge of training her daughter, Siete, to be as sensitive and responsive as SIlk.

When she was born, my cowboy mentor, Joe, warned me, "This little horse is really smart. She'll learn the bad things just as fast as she learns the good things." I think that I've got a basically well-mannered five year old. But I want her training sessions to be something that she looks forward to doing. I understand about always ending on a good note. And about trying to do a little "ranch patrol" or trail riding after working in the ring. I guess I'm looking for suggestions of ways to make it all more meaningful for Siete.

Am I crazy? Do I ask for too much? What can I do so that she looks forward to being ridden?

The Joy of Mucking

I confess that I enjoy mucking. I couldn’t say that until I had my horses at home. Until then, it was mostly annoying to come to the stable and discover that no one there had mucked yet. I would do it grudgingly. Here in my own barn, it’s a different story.

I have some of my most inspiring thoughts while I muck. I experience break-throughs in my writing and my relationships with my 93 year old mother and my 12 year old daughter. I come to deeper understandings of my horses and how to communicate with them. It’s sort of a sacred time of day for me. No one else wants to do it, so they all leave me alone.

I’ve noticed that anyone who mucks on a regular basis is convinced that they know how to do it best. My husband and I totally disagree about how it should be done. He is the King of Compost, so his concern is to leave as much shavings in the stall as possible. He hates having shavings and hay delay the breaking down of the material in the pile. I am more interested in the health and comfort of the horses. So, I tend to dig the stall up more to clear out the stinky, wet stuff that gets stomped down under the shavings.

And while I’m on the subject of shavings, that’s another greatly debated area of personal preference. I go out of my way at the Agway to insist on a brand called Hancock. The boys who load the bags for me think I’m a bit crazy. I try to explain to them. It doesn’t disappear in the stall as quickly, and it is softer and fluffier. My horses lie down every night. Silk even takes a siesta at mid-day. So, I want the shavings to be banked high on the sides of the stall to discourage anyone from getting cast, and I try to give the horses a comfy surface on which to stretch out.

When it comes to equipment, I highly recommend the Wonder Fork. It is a mucking tool that I can’t live without. The basket is deeper, and it’s ergonomically correct. Before we bought our house in Connecticut, we were living in Virginia. The first thing I did after we signed the closing papers was run to the local tack and feed to buy myself a Wonder Fork. It was my gift for finally having a place where I could keep my horses in the backyard. Not many stores carry this brilliant invention. You can order them from Valley Vet Supply. They cost more than the average fork, but they are well worth it.

We’ve built compost bins out of shipping palettes that I pick up for free at my local nursery. Each horse poops about forty pounds a day. My husband aerates the compost religiously, and it looks like the finest black dirt in the world by the time he’s done. The piles don’t smell bad, and we use Spalding Lab’s fly predators, so there are not many insects. It is heaven for red earthworms, which I mix into the garden beds with the compost. We have so much more compost than we can use, so we give it to our neighbors. They show their appreciation by dropping off vegetables and bottles of wine on our doorstep.

The biggest benefit of all this mucking for me is that I don’t need to go to the gym. Heaving eighty pounds a day keeps my upper body in good shape. Dragging manure back to the compost bins is great exercise. I take breaks to hang out with my horses. They stand at the pasture gate watching me as if they want to help. Maybe I can train them to carry the buckets.

LYME DISEASE AND ALL ITS MYSTERIES

Our sweet, docile girl, Siete, turned very irritable this summer. She was a model student with her trainer until suddenly, she began resisting and pinning her ears. Was it changing the bit to a short shank snaffle and adding a curb chain? Was it asking her to side-pass? Was it too much too fast? My good little horse started rearing. To say that I was alarmed and upset would be an understatement.

So, I immediately insisted that we stop and go back to square one. We went back to the simple snaffle and easy walking and trotting. I didn’t want to push my horse if she wasn’t ready. She was trying to tell me something, and I couldn’t understand her. Then, the hoof abscesses started. I figured it was Nature’s way of telling us to take a break in Siete’s training. I really believed that her bad behavior was her reaction to some kind of pain. As the hoof abscesses healed, Siete developed a weird lameness in her hips. It was difficult to tell which side was sore. Some friends suggested it might be in her stifle. When John, the farrier, trimmed her, he mentioned that it could be Lyme Disease.

Since we’ve moved to Connecticut, three and a half years ago, I’ve dreaded the day when someone in my family, two or four-legged, got bit by a tick. Silk was the first one. Last Spring, she acted like she was going to colic. When I called the vet, she was at a horse show, and her associate came out and tubed Silk. Two days later, my dear mama horse wasn’t feeling better. She spiked a 104 fever and went into shock. I thought she was going to die. There was a moment when she started to lie down, and I forced her to walk with me because I knew that if she went down, it was all over. My regular vet drove here at ninety miles and hour, took one look at Silk and said she had been bitten by an Erlichia tick. She saved her with a massive dose of antibiotics and Banamine.

This time, I delayed calling the vet about Siete. My daughter had pneumonia, and I was consumed with nursing her back to good health. Siete was obviously stiff and hurting, but it was hard to tell where. The next day, she’d be okay again. I gave her a little Bute ,and it helped. Then, in the morning, she was so sore on her front feet that I feared she had laminitis. A friend came by to advise me, and my horse was lame on her back right and front right legs. My vet arrived three hours later, and Siete was painfully lame on her left back and left front legs. It was scary and awful, and the vet wasn’t sure what was going on. She decided to take blood and test for Lyme Disease. It takes a week to get the results, but we didn’t wait to start treating Siete with antibiotics.

I had to give her forty pills of doxycycline twice a day for a month. Crushing the pills was difficult. With a mortar and pestle, the doxy dust blew up into my nose and mouth. I tied a bandanna across my face like I was herding cattle. The medicine was so bitter that even with molasses and applesauce, my horse refused to touch it. I added sugar and salt to cut the bitterness. There was so much powder that I had to mix it and fill four big syringes full. It required my husband and my brother-in-law holding the horse and me jamming the medicine into her. Siete hated it. I hated it. Trying to dose her at 6 am and at 9 pm, before and after they got home from work, only made it worse.

When Silk had Erlichia, I had to give her the same medicine for two weeks. I just poured the molasses/applesauce concoction into a low bucket and left it in her feeder. She ate it morning and night, even though it obviously wasn’t a favorite treat. I realized that after over a decade, Silk knows that if I do something to her, it’s because I am helping her feel better. She trusts me.

I decided that treating the Lyme Disease was an opportunity for Siete to learn to trust me. She’s never been fond of having a syringe full of anything, dewormer, Bute, stuffed in her mouth. I looked at the medicine giving experience from Siete’s point of view. We came in with two strong men and held her down first thing in the morning. Then, at night, after she fell asleep, we turned on the lights, woke her up and forced that nasty stuff down her throat again. No wonder she didn’t like it.

First, I changed the schedule. I recruited my daughter and my neighbor to help me hold her. We dosed her mid-morning and mid-afternoon. It was still difficult, but having two females with me seemed to make my horse less agitated. I realized that ultimately, I had to be able to handle this alone with Siete, and my goal was that she would like to take the medicine. Siete moved without pain, and even though the blood test came back “inconclusive” for Lyme Disease, the vet and I believed that it was the cause of her strange, floating lameness. I was determined to finish the entire month of antibiotics since they were obviously making her feel better.

There’s a compounding pharmacy in Cross River, New York, that makes flavored medicine for pets. I called Stu, the pharmacist, and explained my problem. He mixed up packets of doxy flavored with apple for me. The amount of powder was much more concentrated than when I crushed the pills and added the sugar and salt. I could mix it with a tablespoon of vanilla yogurt and a teaspoon of molasses and fit the whole dose in one syringe. To entice Siete to open her mouth, I sprinkled sugar on the tip of the syringe.

We got into a routine. At first, Siete would spit the sticky stuff all over me and her stall. I discovered that closing the stall door, clipping the lead rope on her and holding her up against the door gave me a brace and gave the horse a sense of security. I wasn’t invading her space and with me holding the lead tight, she couldn’t step back or pull her head up. The dosing continued until the day before Thanksgiving. In the last week, I began to realize that Siete was enjoying the experience. She waited for me to come out with the syringe. I didn’t have to hide it behind my back anymore. Her mother, Silk, was jealous of the attention and the “treat” I gave Siete. Twice a day, Siete and I bonded over a syringe of doxycycline.

Yesterday, when I didn’t have to give her the medicine, Siete obviously missed it. I offered her apples instead. On the one hand, I was relieved that the ordeal was over. It makes me so happy to see my five year old running around the pasture and bucking with pleasure again. The difference between Siete’s reaction to the medicine on the first week and the last week was so amazing. She actually reached her nose out and opened her mouth for the syringe as I gave her the last dose. I am so proud of both of us. Once again, my horses have taught me that patience, kindness and perseverance can get us through even the toughest challenges.

So little is known about Lyme Disease. Even though there's a vaccine for dogs, they haven't invented one for people or horses. Most of my neighbors suffer from the long-term effects of this illness. I have no idea what will happen to Siete now that the disease is in her system. The vet suspected that it manifested so dramatically because my horses came from California and were never exposed to it. They didn't have the immunity that local equines have built up over time. It's all speculation, but it might offer some explanation for the mysteries of Lyme.

Time for Gratitude

There's a "Horse Bloggers' Carnival" going on and the subject is "Why I'm Grateful for the Horse". I started to write about Silk and it turned into a poem of sorts:

Why God Invented Horses

On days when things don’t go so right
When plans are crushed
or my heart aches,
I take a walk to the barn.

I hear a welcome murmuring
and then, Silk’s fine red head
peers out from her stall door.
She listens to my troubles
and never tries to blame.
I lean against her strength and softness,
rest my head on her rumpled mane
and take a long deep breath.
She bends her neck to cradle me,
making sure that I’m okay
and then goes back to munching hay.

The rhythm of her chewing,
The smell of my dear horse,
The comfort of the old box stall
Reassure me that life goes on.
So when I need a better reason
to keep moving on down my path,
to clear the air,
to forgive, if not forget,
I take a walk to the barn.

It's All About Softness

There is one more gem of an idea that Mark Rashid mentions in his new book, A Life WIth Horses. He believes that the ultimate "softness" is when you can have the same feeling of calmness and no stress when you interact with your horse as the horse does when standing around relaxed and eating grass or hay on its own.

I thought about this as the farrier trimmed my horses feet yesterday. The calmness and confidence has to come from inside me. I don't have what my husband refers to as "farm sense", a level of experience that develops when you grow up interacting with horses and other farm animals from the time you were young. I rode horses since I could walk, but I didn't have to take care of them as a child. As much as I desperately wanted a horse, my parents wouldn't allow me to do more than take lessons at local stables. Then, after a 20 year hiatus from horses while I lived in New York City and Los Angeles, I came back to them as an adult with much love and some apprehension.

My greatest aspiration is to have that deep-seated confidence and calmness - even if the horse is really wigging out. As I stood holding Silk's lead rope, watching John, our farrier, trim her feet, I appreciated how good my horse is. She was as relaxed as she is eating grass in the pasture. Even though John and I chat while he works, I've learned to always keep my awareness on my horse. I can tell Silk appreciates it by the way she nuzzles my hand every once in a while. Her daughter, Siete, is another story.

For five years, Siete was very good about having her feet trimmed. Unfortunately, over the last few months, with hoof abscesses and Lyme Disease, she's gotten very nervous about anyone doing anything with her feet. I'm working on it with her daily, and she's getting calmer, but the problem is not solved. I decided as I led her over to John for her trim that it was all dependent on my attitude. If she got upset, I had to ground myself and not get scared. I decided to take slow, deep breaths to see if I could sync up Siete's breathing with mine. I rubbed her neck with some of Linda Tellington-Jones'
" T Touch" circles. I explained to the farrier what I was trying to do - give my little horse a sense of security. He's a very kind man and agreed that we needed to convince Siete that no one would hurt her when we did things to her feet. When she tried to yank her back hoof away, we didn't punish her. John set the foot down, made sure that Siete was solidly balanced on all four feet and picked up the foot again. He had to stop several times. It took longer than it should have, but it worked. We got through the whole thing without any drama. I really appreciated his patience.

It may not have seemed like a big deal to most people, but it made my day.