The Bored Game

I can't quite remember how or why I came up with the Bored Game. Leading impatient horses from one pasture to fresh grass in another may have had something to do with it. Waiting with Bridget while she makes up her mind to step backwards when I ask may have been another cause.

Be that as it may, the Bored Game is a very useful tool.

It goes like this:

Rule No. 1: We Are Both Bored. Sorry, but there it is.

Rule No. 2:  No Eating.

Rule No. 3:  No Moving Feet.

Rule No. 4:  No Getting In My Space.

Rule No. 5:  No Scratching Your Leg To Distract Yourself.

Rule No. 6:  I Suppose I Can't Stop You from Pawing the Ground.

Rule No. 7:  No Taking An Interest in Anything.

Rule No. 8:  No Chit Chat

Rule No. 9:  The Human Must Always Insist Politely and Display Good Manners.

Rule No. 10:  Like I Said: We're Bored.

The first reaction of the horse (especially if her name is Bridget) is: "What? Are you kidding me? You're kidding, right? I know you're kidding - here let me chew your arm a little bit. What?! No??!"

In the case of Bridget, she raises her objections in an upfront, communicative way. Other horses continue their quest to distract themselves and get away from being in-the-moment-with-the-boring-person by pawing, trying to graze, pulling, or - as in the case of a little mini I was working with the other day - rearing. Before long, however, a magical change occurs, and boredom settles like a gentle mist upon the scene. Only when the horse stops resisting it, it's not boredom - it's peace.

I've had occasion lately to ask owners to play the Bored Game before the horse would agree to cooperate with trimming. Once that blessed aura of peace descends, you can see how futile it was to try and work with the horse's mind constantly darting off in all directions.

Today, I was trimming a very bossy, smart, dominant mare. She's done fine with me in the past, but today her owner warned me that she's been very difficult lately and that we might not get anything done, as she's been refusing to let her owner work with her feet. Sure enough, when I started working, she would give me her foot but immediately snatch it away again. She was very distracted, fidgety and absent. So I introduced the Bored Game. She surprised me by not taking very long to subside into an almost trance like serenity. I caught myself talking too loudly and agitatedly - the comparison between me and the horse suddenly showed me in a bad light, and I slowed down to join the mare in her tranquillity. The owner was pleasantly surprised by the mare's mood.

Maintaining this restful state, I asked the mare to give me her hind foot, which she quietly did, and I was able to work on both hind feet. However, when it came to the front feet, whichever foot I asked for she would calmly press into the ground, at the same time leaning gently into me with her shoulder. I don't know where this new reluctance has come from - she is sound, and I don't believe she is physically challenged by holding up her front feet - but I would prefer that she politely refuse to give her foot than that she give it and then snatch it away. I decided that it would be "against the rules" for me to use any physical effort to try and pick up her foot myself. She knew I wanted the foot, and for whatever reason, she declined.

But this was a conversation, and a polite one at that - very different from the interaction we'd been having just a short while before - the mare listening to distant sounds, thinking about the other horses, reaching for food, pushing into her owner, giving her foot, snatching it away, moving her feet.

This mare lives on dry, stony ground; her feet are good; and her owner knows how to rasp hoofs in between trimmer visits. So we agreed to let her off the hook. For a fearful horse, it's very empowering to be allowed to leave the feet on the ground. Somehow, even though this mare is far from fearful, I felt it was important to give her the same consideration we'd give to an anxious horse. Who knows - perhaps her hyper, pushy behavior might be a form of anxiety. This mare was an unlikely candidate to embrace the Bored Game, but she did, and perhaps she was thankful for it.

I'm very grateful for the opportunity to work with owners like the owner of this mare, who not only shares my "liberal" views about horses but is relieved that I share hers. We both agreed that "letting the horse get away with it" does NOT make things worse the next time, but can often make things better.  I'll be curious to see how the mare will process her experience today. Today I feel I really learned (again! - seems a lesson that I must repeat many times before it really sinks in) the importance of working from a place of peace and focus. Hempfling says (something like), "Everyday chaos accumulates to high danger," and I think this is a wise observation.

The owner and I drew the mare into a state of peace, but once she was there, the mare drew us in even deeper. The hyper mare teaching the humans a lesson in tranquility. Horses are perennially amazing.

Hoof Clues

A pretty, rangy, blue-eyed, kind, paint mare, about 15 years old and about 15 hands high. Living on a well-drained grassy pasture, after coming off a muddy wet one a month or two ago.

When I first meet her, she stands with her RF parked way out in front. This is puzzling, as closer examination shows that her toes, while long, are not spectacularly so, and the laminae are hardly stretched. In fact, her hoofs are very nicely worn, considering she had been living on soft ground for a year without trimming.

All four heels have deep fissures between the bulbs. The heels are not contracted, but the temporary owner tells me that the mare had thrush in her frogs when she first came off the wet ground. After aggressive treatment with a hoof pick and bleach, the frogs cleared up nicely and are now dry and clean. However, the hoof fissures remain. A close-up sniff reveals a bad smell. So - given that heel fungus can be painful - why is the mare weighting that RF heel, rather than the toe?

The mare is helpful and stands pretty well despite having difficulty distributing her weight on three not-so-happy hoofs.

Finally, I notice a slight bruise about two inches up on her RF toe wall. Aha. The owner had told me that the mare had been ridden for over an hour a day or two ago. I imagine the length of toe, combined with a workout, was enough to cause leveraging and bruising.

After trimming, the mare stands much straighter. I feel there is more toe that could come off and that there is probably some false sole present. But I'm not a big believer in trying to do it all in one go.

I ask the owner to walk the mare out. Despite her toes being much shorter, she walks with one of the most definite toe-first landings I've encountered. Aha again. The heel fungus is probably painful, causing her to deliberately land toe first. Which, with her long toe, would have exacerbated the leveraging in her hoof wall when she was being exercised - hence the bruise. In movement, the heel pain possibly trumps the toe pain, while at rest, the toe pain is worse.

I recommend that the owner resume treatment with the bleach solution, pouring directly into the fissures. If there's no rapid improvement, she should switch to a mixture of human antibiotic ointment and human athlete's foot ointment, applied into the fissure with a Q-tip. And go easy on the exercise.

Here's what I wish I'd thought to point out to the owner: this is maybe why the mare bucked at first when she was being exercised the other day.

Not Without Honor Except in Your Own Household

Unlike those polite equines who belong to Other People, my own horses are totally unimpressed with my sympathetic bedside manner. All right, all right, I know - it would go easier if only I did it more often.

Today, while Rose and George were out on the lawn, I decided it would be a good day to give them a bit of a trim. After an hour or so of lush grazing, surely they wouldn't mind standing still while I did their feet? Actually they would.

But I discovered a good way to deal with the George. First of all, you trim Rose. Of course, Bridget has to hover over the fence in order to chew my hair; and George, who is on the same side of the fence as us, tries to occupy the exact same space as me and Rose. So I pretend to be very stern and manage to keep him, oh, about 33" away.

Then, having established that I am the Bad Cop today, when it's his turn for trimming, I keep up the don't-mess-with-me-young-man attitude. When he wants to put his foot down, I just hang on for dear life and refuse to let go. He hops around on three legs and finally concedes that it is in fact possible to stand with one foot off the ground. It can't have been too traumatic for the dear boy, as when I cut him loose, he didn't go away. I'm glad I got to his feet (well, just the front ones today), as the heels were starting to contract. He has hard feet that just keep growing, with very little flaring or chipping. I think he'd need a lot of travel on rough ground to wear his hoofs down.

When Rose was having her turn, she was distracted and restless. However, persistence paid off again, and she ended up letting me get all four feet done.

Here is Rose's abscess slit grown almost half way down her foot.

I said I "pretended" to be stern with George - he responds well to a sort of jokey bossiness. He really doesn't like you to be for-real mad at him, but here is the sort of attitude that seems to make George go, "Oh she means business, but she's still my friend":

My son, aged 5, 1997

In at the Deep End

Yesterday, my little date with the bank statement spooked me so much that I actually started looking at jobs on Craig's List.

Then yesterday, a call came in response to my recent ad in the local free paper. Could I come and trim just one foot? The owner couldn't get hold of their farrier, and this one foot was way too long.

Um, ok, well, I'll come and have a look.

So this morning I drove over, and here is the one long foot. She was not kidding about the long part.

 And here is the underside of the other - not so long(!) - forefoot:

You can see how the bars have grown up to form a sort of substitute-frog to support the hoof, as the actual frog is nowhere in contact with the ground, and is disintegrating anyway. She's partly gotten in this pickle as she is blessed with hard feet which don't break off. (Well, the main reason of course is lack of trimming.) Amazingly there was almost no flaring, and the white line was tight (when I finally found it!)

Fortunately, they'd decided I should do all four feet. Took about an hour and a half, and there was still some fine-tuning to do. But we figured we'd quit while the mare was still cooperative, and I'd come back and finish another day.

And then they decided I should come back and do their other two horses. Hooray! Maybe I won't have to be yet another waitress-with-a-philosophy-degree.

What a Difference a Day Makes

The temperature soared to 49F, the sun was shining, and only the lightest of breezes wafted across the field. The horses and I were in a mellow, mellow mood.

I brought out the grooming box, which Bridget wasted no time in emptying.

Bridget is always gregarious, no matter the weather, but the other three's desire to socialize definitely rises with the temperature. George was back to his old self and planted himself next to me, indicating that it would be acceptable for me to brush him. Bridget kept sneaking up, and at one point - marvellous to relate - she reached out and just barely touched George's hindquarters with her nose.

Most of the time, Bridget and George took turns for attention, although Rose did come up at one point while I was talking to Bridget. She intimated that Bridget should please buzz off, but Bridget, of course, ignored the suggestion. Chloe was looking particularly placid and smiley. When I walked over to her and stood a couple of feet away, she sidled up to me so I could scratch her.

George has taken possession of the shelter (finally - now that the worst of the weather is over!) and I did observe Rose venture in once during George's absence. The shelter is very deep, but you can see that the entrance is much too narrow for horses who have to share quarters with a Troll.

Chez George.

Chloe considers her chances.

Chloe wanted to go join George in the shelter but didn't quite dare. When he came out, however, he went up to her and touched her gently with his nose. He and the mares are definitely making progress - I saw him and Rose stand briefly nose-to-tail/tail-to-nose.

Moving on from their little encounter.

George is still very self-protective - especially about his right side. He wanted to be groomed on his left side, but did not offer the right. I experienced something which I had not noticed before - while standing on his right side, I reached out to touch his back and immediately felt the skin tighten and become hard. I left my hand there and tried to relax and think soothing thoughts. He did loosen up, but it is striking that something seemingly so harmless could evoke such a strong reaction from him. My friend has an Arab gelding whom she says hated to be touched for the longest time - he would just tighten up all over. She wore him down, and now he gets ecstatic when you scratch him.

George also (I think) tried to groom me. I encouraged him by sticking out my arm and telling him to scratch it. If he chomped too hard, I tried to under-react - just enough to let him know he has to pull his punches when grooming a human.

Bridget and I played with the tire. I rolled it for her a couple of times.

She and Rose followed after the tire. I climbed on top of it, holding onto Bridget's neck for balance, while she chewed and pawed it.

Then she worked on undoing my shoelaces.

Rose's abscess opening is growing down her foot. Here are a couple of photos showing its progress down the hoof since December. It looks like there's been about an inch of hoof growth in the last six weeks or so.

December 30, two weeks after it
erupted at the coronet band.

Today.

We had a nice time, and nobody once mentioned food. Even the occasional unruly truck roaring past couldn't ruffle the genial tranquillity of the afternoon.

Something's going on in the distance -

but George doesn't care.

Fun Below Freezing

I woke up to the exciting news that it was 5F. And of course, in keeping with my habit of resolving that the horses have to be moved just as it's getting dark, I picked one of the coldest days of the year to decide that Rose's feet had to be trimmed.

I went over to the barn to set the scene - i.e. lay out some hay on the inside of the fence for George and Bridget and on the outside for Rose, as well as put the trimming things in place.

I also took out a broom that I was retiring from house use to barn use. As soon as Bridget saw me with it, she came charging over to investigate.

What is this peculiar object?

I dragged it along the ground, and we played cat and  mouse.

Trying to pick it up.

Maybe this way will work better.

Now here's a really good use for this thing.

As I was finally heading across the lawn to go trim, Chloe (who was at liberty again) saw me coming with a halter. The alarming prospect of a premature return to the field made her scurry away. I dropped the halter and ran after her. I didn't stop when I reached her, but passed her by and kept running. She ran after me, and we ran together for a little while, then walked together around to the back of the house, where she resumed grazing.

Then it was time to catch Rose.

A typical Rose expression and stance. Sweet and curious, but reserved and cautious.

Rose does not like these things to be rushed. Often, I confess, I am impatient and resort to the old throwing-the-rope-quick-around-the-neck trick before putting the halter on. Today I resolved to take however long it took to have Rose willingly put on her halter. So I went up to her and stood beside her and showed her the halter. She thought about it, said no thanks, and walked off. I walked after her, stood by her again, asked again. We repeated this a couple of times, until she didn't turn her head away from the halter and let me put it on.

I tied her up on the other side of the fence with a pile of hay to nibble and got started. She was very cooperative, and I got a lot done. I discovered a big horizontal crack on the inside of her RF, which I think may be an old abscess fissure, which is now showing up due to having worked its way down the foot to where there is a greater amount of torque forcing it open. I quit trimming before I was quite done, as I didn't want to push our luck, and then let Rose go exploring as a reward.

She was very keen.

Chloe came too.

I moved so much, what with running around with Chloe and working on Rose's feet, that I didn't feel cold at all - instead I glowed with my own energy. What a lovely feeling - maybe that's how horses feel all the time.

Jettisoned layers, shed during the course of trimming.

Adversarial

Yesterday, my horse friend came over to help me trim Rose. She was cheerfully optimistic that good trimming will be able to correct Rose's dropped pasterns, aka coon-footedness.

It is always thought-provoking when my friend is here. As I have documented before, her approach to the horses is slightly different from mine.

We had Rose tied up at the fence inside the field. Bridget and George immediately left their piles of hay and came over to investigate what we were up to, trying to insert themselves in the middle of things.

My friend said that it was a dominance thing and that George was put out because we had taken "his" mare. I think George was saying the following:

a) this is where the action is, so I'd better be over here;
b) sometimes Rose lets me say hello when she has a halter and leadrope on - maybe she'll let me speak to her; and
c) but why do you have the halter on Rose anyway? You ought to put it on me - I'd like to draw your attention to some long grass over the fence there which looks like it might still be edible.

Bridget kept sneaking over and trying to interfere with Rose. When I wouldn't let her get into our bubble, she proceeded to charge around the field, looking very glamorous with her tail high. My friend said again it was a dominance thing and that Bridget was like a toddler having a tantrum. Whereas to my mind, she was just letting off steam because she got a little frustrated. After she'd had her fun, she walked over and stood quietly a couple of horse-lengths away.

When my friend wants a horse to get out of her space, she acts aggressive and drives them out. My approach is more to make contact with the horse and make my desires clear. My friend can make George and Bridget leave completely. For me, they will respect my desire to keep out of my bubble, but they'll keep hovering and looking at me, like "Are you sure? Can we talk about this some more maybe please?" My way is not as immediately effective a way of clearing the area, but it works for me, as I'm willing to wait for us all to learn and agree on behavioral etiquette - like waiting for George to cede the gate to allow the mares to enter.

When my friend spoke about George and Bridget, I found myself getting anxious, starting to feel that old emotion of fear, as if the horse were an adversary to be overcome. I had to remind myself: "No, this is Bridget - she is not trying to dominate me, I can trust her. And I don't need to dominate her either." Refusing to be a doormat is a very different thing from becoming a pair of boots.

And once again, I must remind everyone that my friend's horses are outgoing, confident, friendly, charming, and communicative. So what she is doing can't be bad. It works for her. I have to be willing to learn, but at the same time not be swayed from what experience tells me works for my horses and me.

George Softens Up

A couple of days ago, the sun was shining cheerfully. It was still cold, mind you, but armed with new (thank you, Santa) insulated gloves and various other items of warm clothing, I decided to spend some time out with the horses while they were eating hay.

They were intent on eating and did not interact with me, except for Bridget, who always can spare a few minutes to play. At the moment, her favorite thing is to have me hold one of her forelegs while she chews and tugs at various parts of my clothing in the vicinity of my head and neck. At this time of year, there are plenty of bits and ends to chew on - the drawstring of my anorak hood, my hat, my scarf, my collar.

Later on, I came out and found George unmistakeably asking to be taken out, something he hasn't done for weeks.

So on with the halter, and out we went. We wandered around, George finding enough green grass still available to make the excursion very worthwhile.

For some time now, he has had his prickly aura. You just know if you touch him, he's going to stiffen and look sour. But this day he was emanating a much warmer, more inviting vibe. I could put my arm around him and lean on him, and he placidly kept on grazing.

For the rest of the day he kept it up. Maire posted a blog entry the other day, where she talks about experiencing an urge to hug her elderly pony mare. It's hard to know sometimes where the feeling is coming from, as there are two psyches involved, and the present situation sometimes is at odds with the past.

Yesterday the day was much warmer - all the way up into the high 40's - and George was very mellow again. Every time I saw him, I felt the desire to make physical contact, and every time I would feel a twinge of reluctance just before touching him - a feeling conditioned by his recent aversion to being touched. But in this case, my attraction toward touching him was the "truth," while my anxiety was an out-of-date hangover from a past situation - because once contact was made, he remained soft and receptive.

However, if I went ahead and petted him on days when he was not in the mood, then my decision to touch him would be an untimely attempt to change the "truth" of his current distaste for contact.

Yesterday, I could have interpreted the slight anxiety before touching him as a signal from him, and I really had no way of ascertaining which it was until I made contact. Except that in the moments when I was most aware of the anxiety, I believe my attention was turning inward on myself and away from George.

He stayed and was cozy with me for a little while yesterday. It was nice.

George has been playing with the dogs. Here's a blurry picture of him fence-running with them.

My daughter's miniature schnauzer is staying with us for the holidays. He and George are making friends and sniff noses through the gap in the gate. I need to get a photo of that.

And speaking of photos, here is a marked-up photo of Rose's hoof, showing the slit where the abscess erupted. New wall will grow down above it, but the slit will remain, as the hoof wall grows, until it reaches ground level. Apparently this won't cause problems. She's still a little sensitive around the coronet band area, which will make it hard to hold her foot for trimming - something she really needs.

Pretty wide, huh?

Abscess

Yup, it was an abscess. I came out yesterday morning to find that it had finally erupted at Rose's coronet band, and she was walking a little more easily.

There it is, draining out down the front of her hoof.

Well, abscess is good news - much better news than an injury. Her walking continued to improve, and this evening, although still limping, she was trucking along at a pretty normal speed. The fetlock was still swollen this morning, and my trimmer friend said the cause may be lack of circulation in that foot due to the curtailment of movement and weight-bearing.

You can see how much more swollen the near fetlock and pastern
are. (It's more common for an abscess not to cause this swelling.) 

And this photo demonstrates something else. Namely, her coon-footedness. Yes, I have coincidentally just found out the name for these kinds of legs, where the pastern is flat and the fetlock dropped. There are all kinds of scary words associated with this condition - e.g. long-term damage to the suspensory ligament. However, we will just take a positive attitude and continue trimming in the confident expectation of gradual improvement.

Abscesses can be caused by stretching and detaching of the laminae, caused in turn by long toes leveraging the hoof wall away from the internal structures. Necrotic tissue forms, which the body then has to expel. Rose has a band (about 2") of new, healthier hoof wall growth at the top of her feet, but the hoof wall below that is stretched and flared. I assume the abscess has formed in that area. Unfortunately it seems to have had to work its way up through the healthier tissue to find an exit. My good trimmer friend re-affirms the need to keep her toes as short as possible to minimize leveraging and optimize the position of breakover.

My other trimming mentor is someone whom I've never met, who lives far away. When I emailed her to ask about the abscess, I mentioned the coon-footedness. She immediately replied that for such a young horse to be coon-footed already suggests that she has a "hunter bump" and a "sacral sprain." Well, I wasn't exactly sure what a hunter bump is, so I asked. It is a high spot right at the top of the croup, with a slight dip in front of it. So I sent her this photo of Rose and asked if this was what she's talking about:

She said oh yes indeed, and that slight lumbar bulge is called a "roach," and it's a sign of sacral sprain and often develops in response to pain in the front feet. Oh, I've got a lot to learn.

She also remarked that the boxy appearance of her feet indicate that the bars need to be lowered to the level of the sole. That's something I'd do anyway, in keeping with the trimming school I follow, but I have not worked with Rose's feet nearly as much as I should have (as she really doesn't like to stand on three legs), and I fear the bars are in fact overgrown. My local trimmer friend is hopefully coming over tomorrow, and we'll work on it together.

Did I mention that Rose won't eat her uveitis Chinese herb apple sauce any more? I pendulumed it, and got a straight back and forth swing, so I assume she knows what she's doing. The eye is back to the way it always was before the uveitis flare-up. I guess the cloudy spot that remains is just scar tissue.

She's a deep one, that Rose.

I was struck by the fact that the whole time when her foot was so painful, she remained rather upbeat. It hurt so much to put weight on that foot, she would grunt every time she had to take a step. But her appetite remained hearty, and she never seemed depressed.

What with one thing and another, Rose is teaching me a lot.