Happy Birthday to the Best Horse in the World!

THIS IS MY ENTRY INTO THE CARNIVAL OF HORSES BEING HOSTED BY LYNDA POLK AT HOOFBEATS

Yesterday was Silk’s birthday, and I forgot to celebrate it. I have excuses, like it was pouring rain and I had a writing deadline to meet. So, today, despite the continuing gloomy, wet weather, I prepared to have our annual party.

Every year, I make a special “fruit salad” for the birthday girl with carrots and apples and some chopped up horse cookies. For Silk’s people, I bake a carrot cake from scratch with cream cheese frosting. My daughter always invites some of her friends to help us celebrate.

One year, when we were in Virginia, she asked the little boy who lived next door to come with us. He had just gotten in trouble with his mom and was grounded. His mother called me to say that she had temporarily lifted the punishment. “How many other times in his life will he have the chance to go to a horse’s birthday party?” she explained. Two of the children at that party told me, “I’ve never been anywhere that didn’t have sidewalks.” They had a fabulous time, grooming Silk and Siete, playing with a litter of puppies and some mini-horses that were on the farm. The horses really enjoyed the attention.

If this is “spoiling” my horse, I don’t intend to change it. When I bought Silk, she hated to be touched. She was born in Oklahoma, descending from a lineage of superstar Quarter Horses. Two of the finest Western Pleasure and Trail trainers beautifully taught her everything a show horse needs to know. The expectation was that she was going to excel in the ring, but she didn’t. She won quite a few points, but sadly ended up in the hands of a man who abused her. A well-known Quarter Horse breeder saw him ripping on Silk’s mouth at a show and offered to buy her. After over a year of “rehab”, she was sold to a teen-ager and forced to go back into the ring. Silk hated it, and her young owner lost interest. When I came along, the breeder saw a soft-hearted first-time owner who was dying to buy a horse and convinced me that this hot, flashy red mare was what I needed. I wanted a gentle old gelding, but seeing Silk trapped in that small box stall broke my heart.

Soon after I officially became a horse owner, I was getting ready to ride when I noticed that Silk had pulled one of her back shoes partially off. I asked one of the trainers in the barn if she could help me remove it. I later learned that this trainer had been violently thrown by a horse and was plagued by nightmares. She approached Silk with a big metal tool and without greeting the horse or touching her, grabbed Silk’s back leg. My horse jerked her leg out to get away from her. The trainer kicked Silk in the belly with the toe of her pointed cowboy boot so hard that she lifted the horse off the ground. I freaked out.

I started yelling at the trainer and at the breeder who had made this “match” for me with my horse. I insisted that no one was ever allowed to mistreat Silk. The “experts” yelled back at me. I was told that a horse is not a big dog and that Silk could kill me. I must dominate this horse. I was warned that I was ruining her and all the effort they had put into re-training was going to be wasted. Rather than back down, I surprised myself by fighting back. I knew that I was right. No one, animal or human, should be kicked or abused. I don’t think I had ever stood up to anyone with that kind of fierce intensity.

I went back to Silk’s corral, still steamed. As I watched this elegant horse, her red coat shining in the sun, I thought about what had happened. She paid no attention to me. I started to consider the way Silk had been treated throughout her life, and I began to better understand why she behaved the way she did. Until I moved her outside to a corral, she had been confined to a 12x12 box stall for almost ten years. If she was lucky, she was turned out 20 minutes a day in the round pen. As a show horse, she was treated like an object. Her mane was pulled out strand by strand if it didn’t grow neatly. She was groomed and saddled without any regard for whether it felt uncomfortable. On both her back legs, there are still scars about six inches long caused by a trailer accident.

As I was considering Silk’s history, the woman who had been giving me riding lessons walked by. She asked me how I was enjoying owning Silk. I told her what I had been thinking. She pointed out that after all the horse had been through, Silk was exceptional in her ability to still be basically well-behaved. Despite everything, she had kept her spirit intact. Suddenly, I knew why I had bought this horse. We shared the same spirit. She reminded me of myself, and in defending her and being kind to her, I was allowing that spirit to live and flourish.

In our backyard, the sun burst through the clouds this afternoon when it was time for Silkie to eat her birthday treats. I rubbed her belly and her favorite itchy spots. She loved it when all the kids hugged her around the neck. Later, as I closed her stall door, I said what I say every night, “Silkie, you’re the best horse in the world.” We’ve come a long way in the last eleven years.

Welcome, Nor'dzin!

One of my favorite things about blogging is making connections with people all over the world. I would like to introduce you to a new blog called ceffylau. It is written by a woman who lives in Cardiff, Wales, named Nor'dzin. She is a Buddhist, an ordained ngakma who teaches meditation, yogic song and other yogic practices. Nor'dzin and her husband have two horses, Red and Dee, and they are people who clearly love their four-legged friends.

Pema Chodron, an American Buddhist nun who has written many wonderful books, reminds us that all activities should be done with one intention, which is to awaken the heart. She says we should speak in a way that encourages other people to hear us, trying not to use words that cause barriers to go up or ears to close. She believes that it will teach us to learn how to listen and how to look. "If we really want to communicate, we have to give up knowing what to do. When we come in with our agendas, they only block us from seeing the person in front of us. It's best to drop our five-year plans and accept the awkward sinking feeling that we are entering a situation naked. We don't know what will happen next or what we'll do." I find that this is also true when I communicate with my horses.

So, welcome, Nor'dzin! I'm looking forward to listening and learning from you.

Moving a Mountain

After a restless night, worrying about Siete, I was relieved to see that she was feeling much less itchy Saturday morning. I’m fairly positive it was itch and not colic related. I just read in the AQHA magazine that Quarter Horses are prone to gnat and midge “sweet itch”. The vet checked in, and we decided that I would wash both horses twice daily with warm water and apply a cortisone lotion. If things don’t improve by later in the week, we’ll go for the stronger oral meds.

So, I was a bit foggy from lack of sleep when I started mucking out Siete’s stall yesterday. I bumped my toe on a pointy rock that has been emerging more and more prominently in the middle of the shavings and dirt. It reminded me of the story of the Princess and the Pea, and I worried that Siete would have a hard time getting comfortable at night when she laid down. I asked my husband how big he thought the thing was, and whether we could pull it out.

Next thing I knew, we were moving a mountain out of Siete’s stall. My husband loves a challenge, and fully embraced this with a “never say never” attitude. He kept telling me that if the Egyptians built the Pyramids, we could lift this boulder out by ourselves.

We hoisted it up using boards and a “Wonder Bar”, which is a long piece of steel. Then, we attached chains to the 500 pound rock and used our Landcruiser to pull it out of Siete’s stall. Of course, Siete had to inspect the operation both from the front door and the back door. Then, after we filled the huge hole and put wood pellets and fresh shavings down, she rolled and rolled on it until she looked like she was tarred and feathered. She approved, and so did her mother.

I guess I must have been inspired by Strawberry Lane's latest excavations. Or perhaps it was just a temporary loss of sanity due to lack of sleep. At any rate, my husband and his favorite horse, Siete, are very happy. My arms were so sore that I couldn’t lift them above my shoulders. I went to bed at seven last night and slept like- you guessed it - a rock.

Anxious Night

If it’s not one horse, it’s the other. I hadn’t been around most of the day, so I went out last night to check on the horses around 8 pm. Siete was rolling around in her stall and rubbing her belly back and forth. She was seriously agitated. Neither horse had finished her hay, which was odd. Was it colic or an allergic reaction or just bug bites? I dragged my husband out to the barn to be my assistant.

As we were leading Siete out of her stall, Silk went down on her belly and began rubbing herself back and forth. Meanwhile, Siete was biting at her sides and kicking herself in the belly with both back legs. I was pretty sure it was a severe itch and not colic, but the biting and kicking her stomach is a colic symptom. I got a bucket of warm water and a sponge and washed Siete’s underside. Then, I took her temperature, and it was 100 degrees, which was normal. We put her back in her stall and did the same thing with Silk. By this time, Siete was again on the floor rolling and rubbing. I decided that no matter what was going on, a little Banamine might help. So, I gave each horse a half dose (for 500 lb.). Then, I felt guilty that I hadn’t called the vet first, so I asked the emergency operator to have the doctor on duty call me.

We swept out the uneaten hay and got rid of it. Earlier, my husband had opened a new bale when he gave them dinner. I wondered if maybe there was something wrong with it. Neither horse has been drinking much water the last two days. We had taken out the heated buckets and replaced them with regular ones for the summer. Silk especially didn’t want to drink from the new bucket, so I put the heated one back, unplugged, and filled it with fresh water. The vet who was on call phoned. She’s someone that I don’t know, but she was very helpful.

One thing that I love about this equine practice is that they welcome phone calls and always believe it’s better to be safe than sorry. So, the doctor reassured me that up until this point, I’d done all the right things. She suggested giving them a little hay from a different shipment and wetting it to reduce dust and possible mold. She also asked if I had any dexamethasone. It’s a corticosteroid used for allergic reactions. I thought I might still have a packet from when Silk got the “big itch” last fall from the black flies. I was able to find some foil packets in my emergency kit, but I didn’t recognize what they were labeled: flunixin meglumine. So, I called the doctor back to see if it was the right medication. Good thing, because it wasn’t. It was more Banamine, and she complimented me on checking with her before I gave it to Siete.

By this point, both horses were calmer, so I was more convinced that it had been a reaction to gnats or something on their skin. I reviewed what was different. The bedding was the same as usual. The only new thing was that I had sprayed them both for the first time with a mix of vinegar and water instead of fly spray. Maybe it was the vinegar? Since I am the designated worrier in our family, I went in the house to fret while everyone else fell asleep.

I woke at 5 am and didn’t see Siete’s lovely head poking out of the top of the Dutch door the way I usually do. I forced myself to follow my routine of feeding the cats and making coffee. I still am haunted by a frightening experience two years ago with Silk. I went out to the barn to feed one morning in a torrential rainstorm. When I opened her stall door, Silk collapsed and fell on top of me in the muddy corral. I’ll never forget it. I thought she was dead. Even after many anxious hours and medical tests later, we never were able to determine what had been wrong with her. So, I still have a brief flash of fear as I go out to the barn each morning. I breathe easy when I see both horses sticking their heads out to greet me.

As I opened the back door, I didn’t see Siete or Silk watching for me. These are the moments when I remind myself about my faith. I am doing the best I can. What will be, will be. God and the Universe have a plan, and I will find the strength in myself to handle whatever I have to face. Filling the buckets with breakfast in the tack room, I reminded myself that I had my cell phone in my pocket this time and help was only a phone call away. Of course, when I came out and saw Siete scratching her nose on the door latch, I was filled with joy.

No one is rolling on the ground or rubbing her belly yet. I’ll keep a close eye on them today and probably use some warm water to clean them off again. Horses are accidents waiting to happen, our vet in California used to tell me. Everyone else in my house is still asleep. I’m going to check on the girls one more time, and then stretch out on the couch for a little nap. But before I do, I wanted to share with you something that a friend in San Diego sent me during the wildfires last year:

St. Theresa's Prayer:
May today there be peace within.
May you trust God that you are exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith.
May you use those gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you.
May you be content knowing you are a child of God.
Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of us.

Fear and Trust

There’s been talk about fear floating around the blogosphere. You may have read the brave, honest exchanges of stories and feelings after horse accidents on Nuzzling Muzzles and MiKael’s Mania- Arabian Horses. If not, you should check them out. As you all know, I’ve wrestled with these emotional issues. Most horse owners have, at one point or another.

It’s a humbling experience to be injured by a horse. When Silk reared up and tore all the skin off my right hand seven years ago, it rocked my world. One important lesson I learned was that admitting my vulnerability helped make me strong again. I learned to really listen to my horse. I forced myself to accept what was happening and not make up excuses.

I think what it basically comes down to is trust in yourself and your horse. Trust takes its own sweet time to grow. I was very impatient. I doubted myself and everything I knew about horses. I wanted to sell Silk, but I couldn’t find the right person that I believed would care for her the way that I did. Then, I found a new barn where the owners, Joe and Patricia, really understood what I was feeling and wanted to help me. Inch by inch, I made my way back to feeling safe around my horse -- and I mean with baby steps. Silk also benefited from their kindness and was able to relax and learn to trust me too. A big part of our problem was that we didn’t trust each other from the very beginning, but I wasn’t willing to see that. The solution involved a lot of patience and a lot of hanging out together doing nothing. I discovered that sometimes doing nothing is really the most important thing you can do. Eventually, I could see the change in Silk’s eyes. After eleven years together, our trust now runs deep.

Not all horses and owners are a good match, no matter how much you love the horse. It’s very similar to any human love relationship. I know men who are valued,dear old friends of mine, and I love them, but I’d never marry them. I’ve seen friends of mine who have a really stormy experience with a horse. Then, they sell it to someone else, and the horse becomes a perfect angel. Horses are emotional barometers. They know, even when it’s so deep inside you that you might not even know. The way they express it and how much it takes to get your attention can be dangerous. I learned the hard way about being honest with Silk and myself.

Every day, I take what my horse has taught me and try to apply that awareness, acceptance, forgiveness, patience and kindness to all the other relationships in my life. It’s interesting that the hardest place to do this is when I’m dealing with myself.

What Makes Us Happy

If you look at Silk, Siete and me, very different things make us each happy today. The horses were very itchy, rolling around in the dirt and rubbing their bellies. Since it’s almost 80F degrees right now, and it will stay pretty warm tonight, I decided it was a good day for bathing.

Siete went first, and I have to say that this is not a horse who takes to water. She tolerated it, but she was very glad when we were done. What made her happy was to roll in the dusty corral and get covered in hay and a thick coat of dirt as soon as I turned my back.

Silk, on the other hand, was very happy to get wet. She loves water and really enjoys a bath. She gets weak at the knees when I soap and rub her tummy. We took much longer and had a great time. Of course, when we were done, she took one look at Siete and followed her lead. So, what made Silk happy was to get clean and then be a piggy. She probably hopes that as a result of her antics, I will give her another bath.


Now, I know that I am not supposed to find happiness in material objects. I confess that what made me happy today was a new pair of muck boots. I have always gone for the fourteen dollar kind of rubber boots, which often get holes in their soles. Yesterday, I broke down and bought the muck boots of my dreams. They are made by the Muck Boot Company. I opted for the garden variety, not the equine line. They are lighter weight and green, not black. Green is my favorite color. Most of all, they are incredibly comfortable. Dare I say, delightfully cushioned? I haven’t taken them off since I put them on at 6 am. So what made me happy as I cleaned the stalls and the corrals and both of the horses, was my new green boots.

I just finished reading a book by Anne Rudloe called “Butterflies on a Sea Wind”. She’s a conservationist from Florida who studied Zen. So, as I sat on the patio with my feet up, resting and admiring my new boots, I thought about what she wisely wrote: “Life is not about being happy and whole because things work out the way we wanted. Life is about being whole regardless of what happens.” Lucky for me, on this beautiful day, I am able to appreciate the whole enchilada and realize that this is about as good as life gets.

The Tragedy of Big Brown

I am haunted by an article that I read this morning in the New York Times. It was a story about a favorite for this year’s Kentucky Derby named Big Brown. The horse was bought last fall by a group on Wall Street called International Equine Acquisitions Holdings who are raising $100 million to breed, sell and race horses like they are a hedge fund.

This horse has only raced three times. The three year old colt has hoof abscesses in both its front feet. That’s why it hasn’t been able to race more. They say that the injury was caused by “concussion”, his feet hitting a hard surface. They have hot glued some special shoes with a polyurethane bottom to cushion his feet, and they are racing and training him again with hopes that he will win the Triple Crown. It makes me want to find these Wall Street dudes, drill holes in their feet and make them run as fast as they can for few miles everyday to see how they would feel. It also makes me sick.

This is the reason that I can’t go to a horse race anymore. When I was a little girl, my dad used to take me to the track in Arlington Park, just outside of Chicago. I have wonderful memories of the horses in the paddock and the beauty of them thundering down the track. We moved near Del Mar, California, “where the turf meets the surf”, when I lived in California. The first time that I went to the races there, I felt like I had fallen into a marvelous time warp. The whole scene was just like I remembered as a child. I used to take my four year old daughter to the track very early in the morning to watch the horses warm up.

My fond memories were dashed when the horses that were running began dying. In 2005, in the first seven days of racing, seven horses had to be euthanized. I almost took my daughter to see a friend’s horse race, but our schedule changed. Fortunately, we weren’t there when the horse broke its leg during a race and had to be put down on the track in front of everyone. That season, in 43 days of racing, 16 horses died while racing on the dirt track. They put in a new polytrack, which has significantly lessened the number of deaths. About 800 horses die on the racetracks in this country each year.

When I lived in California and worked in a tack and feed store, I got to know some of the trainers and jockeys and grooms while they were there in Del Mar for the season. They all believed that the horses are started too soon. They’re so young, and their bones aren’t strong enough. Unfortunately, racing is all about speed and short-term profit. It used to be that stamina and long-term durability were the key, but now that horses are the new hedge funds, it’s all about making money fast. I know that horse racing isn’t the only place where this happens. Look at the reiners and jumpers that can barely walk by the time they are ten or twelve years old because they were worked so hard so young.

A horse is not a race car or a snowboard. It is a spirited, soulful creature that loves to run and jump and generously allows human beings to come along for the ride. It should be illegal for a horse to be treated like a hedge fund.

P.S. You can go to ieah.com, the owners' website and leave them a note where it says "Contact Us". I just did.