Working Up to Zero Part II

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Some horsewomen measure success by ribbons or championships.  Some horsewomen measure success, at least at the start of a journey with a particular horse, by a lack of diarrhea.  Ever the rider on a tight budget, I have always purchased bargain horses and so I fall into the second group. At present I am nursing an OTTB back to health. 

"Chance" has made a lot of progress since last July, when he hobbled onto my trailer out of the field where he had been abandoned in South Carolina.  After ten months I had eliminated his crippling thrush and I began riding him.  Still, hoof troubles persisted.  I couldn't get a good farrier out so when a movie production rented our farm last week (think military 20-somethings working as extras running around firing blanks) I decided to send Chance to my friend Linda Hoover.

Linda is a stellar horse trainer, but more than that she can look at the whole horse and pinpoint problems and their probable causes.  For several months I had been adding probiotic powder to Chance's feed, hoping it would help with his moderate diarrhea, but nothing had changed. Linda reminded me that most horses, especially those that have been stressed, have ulcers.  She started him on Marshmallow Root for his digestive woes and called her farrier to help with his feet.

Long story short, both Linda and the farrier helped tremendously, and now Chance is back home.  The diarrhea is much better, and I will continue with gut support supplements.  Chance's feet are also more balanced now. We just MIGHT be on our way... until of course the next problem rears its head.

Roosters: Hidden Danger of Country Life

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Of all the stresses I anticipated relating to my son's 8th grade formal dance, I never imagined that our rooster would play a part.  However, when you live on a farm, even a small one like ours, you never know when entropy will rear its head.

In the days leading up to the dance I ordered a corsage and convinced my son of its importance, while my husband took Alden shopping for his first real suit. Things were going smoothly.  

The formal was on Saturday evening, but my husband had to work all day, so it fell to me to begin the dress preparations. Again, things appeared to be going smoothly.  Joe got home just in time to help Alden with his tie and put on his new shoes.  

They decided Alden needed to tighten his belt another notch, but then realized the belt was already on the last hole.  The leather hole punch was needed, and quickly!  Now, there is only one area of fashion in which a horsewoman can boast superiority over normal women, and that is in the area of adjusting leather goods.  I rushed out to the barn to get the hole punch.

This set the stage for the trouble... me, rushing across the barnyard with the leather punch in my hand.  I was only intent on getting back to the house and fixing the belt.  I did not think about the fact that our rooster and his hens were running loose in the barnyard.  Why would I?

In my mind, I was rushing back to the house to help my son prepare for a milestone event.  In my rooster's mind, I was threatening his hens and then retreating (quickly) before his ferocious might.  He zeroed in on my lower legs and feet, inadequately protected by the standard southern summer uniform of capri pants and sandals.  

His first attack caught me off guard.  I spun around and yelled at him, while he pranced and puffed up his neck feathers.  I moved backwards as fast as possible while watching him.  He moved in for another attack and I swung the leather punch, clocking him squarely on the head.  This did nothing to deter him.  In fact, he attacked again immediately.  I swung my only weapon again, and then it happened... something, I couldn't tell whether it was beak or spur in the feathered fury, put a deep hole in the back of my right hand.

Fortunately by that point I was just a few steps from the back door of our house.  I managed to get up the stairs and inside. Alden and Joe gave me a startled look as I shoved the hole punch at them and rushed to the kitchen for ice.  Like a skilled acupuncturist the rooster had hit some kind of nerve center in my hand.  The pain radiated out to my fingers and my grip was weak.  

This is how I ended up going to Alden's formal: Nursing a wounded hand in the passenger seat while my exhausted husband drove.  When we arrived I was just able to hand Alden the box with the corsage and take a picture of the smiling couple, who were blissfully unmindful of the strange sacrifice I had made for their evening.  Such is country life and parenting!  

Goats Who Stare at People

There is something funny about the human-goat connection; they look at you with such soulful eyes.  Or, as in the picture above, a young goat will shyly duck behind a branch or its mother, perhaps going by the maxim "if I can't see you, you can't see me!"

Recently we purchased three Boer goats, and it has been interesting.  It is also humbling, because after 40 years in horses I know a lot about equines: How to handle, train, and feed them, and how to treat minor medical problems.  In contrast, I realized I knew nothing about goats.  I did not even know until recently that they are the "caprine" class of animals.

Just getting the goats from their stall to the outdoor pen so they could clear brush for us was a challenge, because our goats had never worn collars or learned to walk on a lead. They are learning now, although me 'leading' the two nannies often looks more like me water-skiing behind two goats ash they charge towards sweet feed.

At any rate, like with most things on the farm, there is more involved than one might think at first.  We bought goats because we wanted hardy livestock, but after reading my goat book I was alerted to dozens of possible health problems.  Don't leave them on spring pasture too long, they might get so full of gas it will compress their lungs and they'll die!  They can hang a horn in almost any type of fencing!  A nanny with poor teat shape may not deliver enough milk to her babies and they'll waste away!

Thankfully, none of these things has happened and our goats appear to be flourishing.  The vet was just here to do spring shots for my horses, so (erring on the side of caution) I had her vaccinate and deworm the goats.  This cuts into any potential profit margin, but it does buy a certain amount of peace of mind.  When the goats stare at me I can stare back with a clear conscience because I don't have to wonder when they last had their shots.  Now in the evenings you can find me unwinding by reading my goat book, learning as we stumble down the path of another farm adventure.

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A 16.2 Hand Baby

Now that we have come through the worst of Chance's hoof challenges, having conquered the terrible case of thrush that made him lame from the time I acquired him last summer until recently, we are finally working on a regular basis.  It is increasingly clear to me just how much a of a baby he is, mentally.  Very green.  In fact, it's not totally clear to me that he was ever really broke.  Yes, he will allow you to saddle him and get on, but he is not broke in the sense of responding consistently to aids.  

So we have started at the beginning.  Go forward, turn, stop, back, bend, give the hindquarter, do it all again... the repitition is soothing.  I can see he wants to please.  Then again, the fact that he is a 6 y.o. OTTB mean we aren't immune to excitement.  

This is where the goats come in.  We just acquired some Boer goats as.  Apparently, Chance was not familiar with these strange little horses.  My grooming area is right next to where we are keeping the goats...there was a little drama when I was grooming and tacking him today.  Baby goat:  "Bleat!"  Chance: "Holy crap, the adorable little thing might be dangerous!  Better snort and blow!"

True to his generally calm nature, though, fortunately Chance calmed down pretty quickly.  We got to the round pen and he pressed his forehead against my chest as if to say, "Thank God that's over!"  He wasn't really thinking about tomorrow. 

********If you like this blog read an excerpt of my book here "Horsewomen in Foal and Other Equestrian Adventures" -- this comes with my exclusive Laugh Until You Pee Guarantee (certain exclusions apply: guarantee only good for women who have had at least two children)

Working Up to Zero

This picture shows how patient "Chance" and I have had to be over the past nine months.  Last July, I picked him up from the barn in SC where he had been abandoned.  The barn manager got legal custody of him then sold him to me to recoup the pasture board money they had lost. When I picked him up I had to make a decision to take a chance because he was dead lame.   His feet were so full of thrush, and his hooves were so bad from lack of care, that he could hardly hobble onto the trailer.  Anyway, I gambled that his lameness was due to his feet and nothing worse, and brought him home.  

"Chance" has recovered slowly from the neglect, although when you consider that it takes a full year for a hoof to grow out I think he's done well.  The thrush is gone, two hoof abscesses have grown out, and his hoof wall is now pliable and strong.  I had to approach his issues on multiple fronts: Feeding him hoof supplements while using various products including Koppertox, HoofHeal, Venice turpentine, and Keratex.  *Phew*  All this to get to a neutral level on which we can begin real work.

That is why I call this process of overcoming deficits "working up to zero."  Sometimes what we do as riders has everything to do with just getting to a place where we can start even under saddle work.  We have to be patient and try to read our horse's condition and mental state.  For example, from the start Chance was good to handle EXCEPT for his feet. Picking up his feet to clean and apply medicine was a real trial.  We went rounds over it.  He almost kicked the farrier, too.  It was clear that his feet hurt, but I couldn't get to a better place without causing him additional, temporary discomfort using the thrush treatments.

Finally, I had to take a different approach to lifting his back right foot.  This was the one he resisted picking up the most. I would tap his hock until he shifted his weight, then let up. Then I would tap again until he would cock his hip and just barely lift his heel off the ground.  This allowed me to slip underneath it with the hoof pick, knock most of the dirt out, and squirt the Koppertox onto his frog and sole.  After a few weeks of that routine he finally felt good enough to allow me to actually pick the foot up.

Through all this, I am convinced that Chance knew what I was trying to accomplish.  He just had moments when it was too uncomfortable for me treat his feet.  Now, thank God, I can easily pick up and work on all four feet.  He is trotting happily on the driveway, something he would never have been able to do when I first brought him home.  So... we are ready to ride and train more seriously, more than just the gentle walks we have taken.  We have worked our way up to zero!

********If you like this blog read an excerpt of my book here "Horsewomen in Foal and Other Equestrian Adventures" -- this comes with my exclusive Laugh Until You Pee Guarantee (certain exclusions apply: guarantee only good for women who have had at least two children)