All alone for barn duty

Katie is out of town this weekend, so I had barn duty. I went over around two so that I could ride Bestie and get her taken care of while Dude was still outside. We rode in the indoor for about twenty minutes, doing circles and serpentines at the walk. She's so funny; right about 15 minutes into it she tried to go into the center of the ring and stop. She definitely has her own agenda. But she was ok when I just calmly asked her to keep walking.

We had one nice slow jog about a quarter of the way around. I asked her a couple more times, trying to sit deep and keep the reins loose. The second attempt was a little faster, and the third was even faster, but not as fast as she can be. I just would love to do a nice slow jog all the way around the indoor ... someday. I don't push it, since it's clear that doesn't work with her. I just stop her when she gets going too fast, wait a while, and ask again. When we went outside to go around the mowed field, she was about as calm as I've seen her.

When I went out to grab Dude from his pasture and let him graze a bit in the walkway, he was definitely ready to come in. Can't say I blame him; the flies were terrible back by the paddocks. I had grazed Bestie in front of the outdoor arenas, and the flies weren't bad at all there, which is strange, since the spaces are only separated by a 100 yards or so. I only grazed him for about 10 minutes. He had some welts on his back from bites, poor guy. Had to rinse both their fly masks. It appeared there had been some serious mud rolling going on.

The importance of a good brush

Many years ago we bought a set of brushes for horse shows, thinking that they'd stay nice and clean and in good shape since they'd only be used during shows. I think I've mentioned them before; they were from the Chamisa Ridge catalog. I have to say that set of brushes was one of our better horse purchases. They did last well, they were priced reasonably, and we still have them. Except for the lovely goat's hair soft brush, which mysteriously went missing last year. (Along with the lunge whip, but that's another story.)

The goat's hair brush was particularly perfect after the animal psychic told us that Bestie has sensitive skin. Indeed, she never seemed to be a horse that particularly liked being groomed. Dude, on the other hand, practically can doze off when on the cross ties getting groomed. Bestie just shifts, and prances, and just doesn't seem to enjoy it. So I figured, that's an easy one, if the horse psychic says Bestie likes a soft brush, well then, I'll brush her with a soft brush.

But then it went missing. And rather than going out and getting a new one, I dragged out a soft nylon brush to use. But last week I was in the tack shop and suddenly decided to get another soft natural hair brush. And Bestie loves it. And I love it. It's just so smoooooth when you use it, and leaves such a nice sheen. Why did it take me so long to replace the other one? I don't know. But maybe the horse psychic was checking in with her "contacts" and Bestie complained. Maybe that's what prompted the new purchase. Who knows?

-ing verbs: lungeing, bucking, jigging, biting, (not) relaxing

Yesterday Katie and I went to the barn. We had agreed ahead of time that it would a riding day, since due to the heat, me being out of town, and other reasons/excuses, neither horse had been ridden in about a week. Clearly I needed to lunge (longe?) Bestie first. I got her all saddled up and then got her going on the line. After a few funny crowhops, she settled right into a a nice little Western jog. It made me a bit worried that she was saving her energy for when I got on her back.

Katie actually went out to the outdoor ring and rode while I was lungeing, so basically she was done when I was ready to get on, but she took pity on me and agreed to go around the field. She mentioned that Dude had actually bucked, a rare occurence. A bug-related buck? "No, I think it was an enthusiastic buck when I asked him to canter." Oh,ok.

Bestie had definitely saved herself for the ride around the field, walking like a speed demon and breaking into a trot several times. The bugs were awful. Katie and I didn't actually ride together since after a few minutes I ended up way ahead. Pulling on the reins just made Bestie toss her head and jig. I got so far ahead that Dude got irritated and started jumping around a bit, so Katie was a little cranky with me when we got back to the barn. Not exactly the relaxing little trip around the field we had envisioned.

Attack of the biting flies

Hadn't seen Bestie since Friday morning and boy did she let out a whinny when she saw me. That always makes me laugh. I opened her door to put her stall guard up and saw that she was a total muddy mess. She hasn't been too bad about rolling in the muck over the last couple of weeks, but I guess yesterday's rain left some spots that were just too enticing.

I decided to take her out and let her graze for a bit before she got her dinnertime hay. Dude had just come in so he was kind of in la-la land from the sun and heat, and I let him nap.

We only lasted about ten minutes outside. The biting flies swarmed in, only on her. That always kind of surprises me, how they go for the horse and not for the human sometimes. Other times, they attack both of us. I can't ever predict it. Bestie is pretty complacent about bugs, but today even she was kicking her legs and rubbing her head on her front legs when they'd get near her eyes. I had sprayed her, but hadn't put her flymask back on because I'd had to wash it to get all the mud off.

I was trying to curry her while she grazed, but after almost getting cow-kicked when she kicked at flies on her belly, I decided it was time to call it quits.

As soon as I said, "Come on, we're going inside," she started trotting toward the barn. I guess she wasn't too thrilled with the bugs either, but didn't want to tear herself away from the grass until I made her.

A visit from the vet

I hate it when I go this long between posts! By way of an excuse, last weekend we were out of town for a wedding and this week was just really busy with a variety of things. We got back home last Sunday. The girls picked us up at the airport and then we all went out for an early dinner. I had just settled on the back porch to read the paper when we got a call from the barn that Dude was acting "wierd." So Katie and I jumped in the car and went over.

He definitely seemed uncomfortable. Katie pulled him out of the stall and started walking him while I cleaned up his stall and debated whether to call the vet. One of his poops in the stall was really runny. It turned out that the barn had gotten a load of first cut hay and they didn't really phase it in with the old stuff like they normally do. So that, probably combined with the very hot and sticky weather, gave the poor guy a stomach ache. His temperature was normal (our first use of our new digital thermometer!) but I went ahead and called the vet just to be safe.

The vet and two student interns arrived about an hour later. Great service for a Sunday night! Of course, by the time they all arrived, Dude was acting pretty chipper. Katie had walked him a while and he had a leisurely roll, and that seemed to make him feel better. Dr. Emily confirmed the normal temperature, looked him over, then went ahead and gave him a dose of banamine and pulled him off of hay and grain until the morning. He was very unhappy with that, you could tell right away, as all the other horses started munching on their nighttime flake of hay.

Katie was meeting up with some of her buddies that night that she hadn't seen for a while, so she took my car and went to the party. I stayed at the barn and walked him two more times over the space of about two hours. I washed brushes and chatted with another boarder who was pulling a late night shift. Dude stood in the corner of his stall and stared at me in the tack room, willing me to give him some hay. I felt terrible. Katie came back at 11 pm and we left. He seemed fine.

I called the barn the next morning to check on him, although I knew the a.m. feeder would call if Dude looked off again. Katie went over mid-morning prior to his turnout and walked him again. Over the course of that day he only got about a 1/4 of a flake at a feeding, so he was pretty cranky by the evening when I went back. Dr. Emily ok'd a bran mash, so when everyone else got grain Monday and Tuesday nights he got a mash, and was happy. We decided to mix the old and new hay for the week. Tomorrow will be his first day on all new hay.

Katie and I both vaguely remember that last year he had runny poop the first day they switched over to new hay. I guess we'll have to watch it from now on and make sure he gets a mix of old and new for several days to acclimate.

This was just a blip, a minor event in terms of what can happen with horses, but it was still a little scary. They're so big that when something goes wrong it seems magnified. Dude is very constant and predictable action- and personality-wise, which is good, because our barnmates quickly knew that something was wrong when they noticed him not acting himself. He was banging his Jolly Ball against the wall very pointedly when they would walk by, in his horsey way saying "look, I need some attention!" I'll end with a sentiment similar to the end of my last post: never a dull moment...

Built tough, and all those other tag lines

Whenever I walk into the barn and see one of our horses with a bell boot hanging by one strand of Velcro, or with an ear poking through a hole that has mysteriously appeared at the top of their fly mask, I think of all those commercials for tough products. Toughskins tough. Ram tough. Companies should run all those products through a couple of days in a horse's daily life and we'd see how tough they are!

Regarding the bell boots, my daughter just called to say that Bestie had come in with one bell boot inside out, sort of like a little rubbery cup around her ankle, and one bell boot completely missing. She immediately assigned blame for this situation to me, since I had rashly stated just a few days ago, "Wow, we've set a new record with these bell boots. We've had them for AGES." I should've known better. It's like when our farrier whispers to me, "Dude's feet look pretty good," because he knows to proclaim that out loud surely would invite disaster of some sort.

On the day I mucked stalls a few weeks ago, one of our barn boarders called to ask that we please check on her horse periodically to make sure he didn't "freak out" while outside. (It was hot and buggy.) Honest to God, we checked on him every ten minutes, frequently remarking on how good he was being and how amazed we were by this. We let our guard down to go in the tack room and eat donut holes for a few minutes. In that time--a scant few minutes, he somehow managed to rip a big gash in his fly sheet, which ended up looped around his back legs. The good news is that when we peeked out at him and discovered this unfortunate situation, he was still happily walking around his field grazing, just with very mincing short strides in the back. He looked like his back end was swaddled in a sleeping bag or something.

Maybe I'm just a little superstitious, but here's how I feel:
Never say with satisfaction, "There, that'll hold him." Because it won't.

Never say, "She's been so good this week, we'll do GREAT at the show." Because you won't.

Never say, "Oh, he's not afraid of anything." Because he is.

Say, "She's a nightmare to load; it can take HOURS." And it won't.

It's like they KNOW, and they're just waiting to do the opposite of what you expect and/or want. Just to keep you on your toes.

Life with horses is NEVER boring.