The Winter Rider

If you keep up with my instagram feed, you might have noticed that it basically looks like all I do is lunge and turn my horse loose in the arena.

the horse, it flies

And that's sort of true.

The ground is alternately frozen solid and dangerously iced over or disgusting soup. Courage doesn't get turned out in soup and he won't play on the ice, so the better part of my equine schedule right now is just simple brain management--free time in the indoor to leap around or structured lunging to try and make something productive happen when other people are riding.

It's not my favorite, but it's the reality of a thoroughbred in the winter.

hard to complain about this

Courage HAS TO HAVE his run around time or his brain just can't stay in his head. Plus it's cold and he's a high-mileage 11 years old this year, and the first few minutes of every day are just kind of stiff no matter what. Not having the opportunity to spend hours roaming a field is definitely exacerbating the situation.

I can't fix those things. What I can do is make better choices. 3-4x a week, I try to time my barn visits so Courage can get to run like an idiot in the indoor arena. That helps. At least half of our rides are just toodling on the buckle and chatting with buddies in the indoor. This keeps rides from being tense or spooky. It keeps us both loose and breathing. It's not fantastic training, but it's translating to calmer rides overall.

too cute

I know some people like to just get on and ride through the yahoos, but I don't. I don't enjoy it, I don't need the risk of harm, and I don't want to get in a fight with my horse over something that doesn't have to happen. Instead of worrying about my personal safety, I can laugh at his antics and then give him scratches when he's done. He's a horse. He needs to horse. That is fine.

if you're counting, this is two different coolers in the same post

So yeah. For days and weeks at a time, it feels like I'm just treading water and surviving. But then we have days where Courage runs until he's steaming with no encouragement from me, I tack him up in a cooler, and then we have a fantastic ride, because he's got his game face on and is ready to focus now.

#gameon

Inch by inch, we're gaining ground.

Barn Improvements

 You know when you're like halfway through a REALLY good ride and your horse ALL OF A SUDDEN notices the giant new mirror on the wall (like, in a bad way).

 So you hop off and let him sniff it because you don't have a death wish.

 But you see this look in his eye and you're riding alone, so you just strip his tack off and watch him completely lose ALL THE MARBLES.

 And he admires himself in the now totally-not-scary mirror even while galloping by.

 Like. Hey Sexy. You're so hot.

 Has anyone seen this attractive horse in the mirror? He seems to need cookies.

 Yeah. It was never about the mirror.

Suckers.

(We'll just file this under "horses gotta horse" and "thank god Courage doesn't pull shenanigans on frozen pastures" but also under "still gotta give him indoor turnout to keep his brain in his head".)

Teach Me Tuesday: Group Turnout

Excellent use of turnout

Here's another round of teach me Tuesday! Again, I'm addressing a topic I just don't understand. I don't really have an opinion one way or another, and I'm open to new ideas.

Today, let's talk about group turnout for riding horses.

Let me clarify. I absolutely 100% understand group turnout for retirees, broodies, babies, and horses who aren't in work. It provides them with social structure and helps them understand how to interact with other beings and that is great.

Things he doesn't need help destroying.

HOWEVER.

I really and truly do not understand group turnout (aside from well-matched, same gender pairs) for horses that are in regular work. It seems like the injury risk goes through the roof and the horses become bonded to each other instead of their riders. Expensive blankets (that are required because riding horses are clipped) get destroyed, vet visits go up from kicking and playing too hard, and the potential for things to go wrong is just so high.

Helpful corgi wants to know

Obviously, other people disagree with me. Lots of riding horses live in group turnout situations. I assume their owners are very happy or they would change that. So what's the compelling reason here? I understand the drawbacks very well. What are the positives to group turnout situations? Are there any?

Teach Me Tuesday: Braiding

Also perhaps I am not the best at braiding.

I thought this was fun last time around, so let's do it again. Teach Me Tuesdays is where I bring up a topic I literally do not understand and just ask why. Or how. Or whatever. So let's get on with it.

What is the deal with braiding?

I don't get it, not one little bit.

I'm all for tidy hair. Manes must always only ever be perfect and tails are a work of art. . A pulled mane not only looks tidy, but also is safer because the rider's hands and reins don't risk becoming tangled in long, nasty hair.

Neckstraps are for when you pulled all the hair out holding on.

But then why do we stuff it into tiny little braids? I guess it sort of makes sense for horses with really bad hair that needs to be hidden, but who/what/why decided that all horses needed braids for things like jumping? Maybe I'm the only person who sometimes doesn't see a distance and just sort of kicks and grabs mane and hopes it all works out, but to me, having the mane handy in that situation seems like a REALLY FREAKING GOOD IDEA.

So explain it to me, because I really and truly don't get it. To my non-initiated self, it seems like an awful lot of work to achieve a look that doesn't actually make any practical sense and in fact might make it harder to ride.

Less Wordy Wendesday

November 2013

January 2014

I was running through some old blog entries and caught this comparison. This first is a shot from the day I clipped Courage at the end of November. The second is taken mimd-January 2014. Check out what six weeks off did for my little man!

The Best at Time Off

He is the best at turnout

Between the bodywork lady and the farrier and the BO, we have worked out a plan of (in)action for Courage. Best guess is that he did something creative and awesome in the pasture which jammed his shoulders up.

Oh Courage.

He's taking a few more days off to get himself re-aligned. To help his muscles relax from their current state of spasm (ouch!), he got some bute today.

Here comes the cookie monster!

I think painkillers are a great thing when you're in pain, but I use them very sparingly, both for myself and for my horses. I guess my thought is just that if something hurts, I want to know about it and not push through it instead of drug accordingly and just keep going. I know that's it's not necessarily a popular mindset and I have to temper it with the fact that I'm pretty young and have limited aches and pains at this point in my life.

That said, my policy on anti-inflammatories is that they can be given post-exercise as needed. I do not bute in order to ride or pop painkillers to run. If I see the need to give a horse bute after exercise, then they get the next day off, provided they are in a situation with enough turnout to stretch their legs. If exercise is causing the horse to need drugs, then the situation needs to change. I don't see pain killers as a regular part of daily life for horses or humans.

That's a big part of the reason that Cuna is retired--given the right injections and enough drugs, he probably is passably sound to jump around 2'6" or so. I just don't believe in doing that to a creature. If drugs have to mask his pain, then shouldn't I be listening to his body instead of my desires?

Too adorable not to share

Is that just just me? Is it because I don't understand the aches and pains of growing older? How does everyone else use bute/banamine/advil/ibuprofen?

When It's Time

I want to put these thoughts out there and explain my decision making process. It's really more for myself--I've never fully verbalized what Cuna and I went through. I'm not trying to prove anything to anyone and since I'm a grown up and a horse owner, I can do whatever I damn well please anyways.

That said.

We had an exceptionally hard (for us) winter last year. Layers of snow and ice restricted all movement and limited turnout. Cuna hates cold weather, and his general demeanor was cranky. We pulled his shoes towards the end of the winter because we weren't able to work and his farrier was very concerned by his feet, but their quality and lack of heels.

Two weeks after the shoes came off, the weather finally changed. We worked back to up to normal training. We started out tip toeing around in the arena and worked up to trotting and cantering and hacking out. Cuna needed his shoes back on to prevent further deterioration of his feet.

My valentine <3

In February (Valentine's Day), we started back riding in the hills. Cuna and I would trailer out once a week with a friend. She was conditioning to run some cool eventing tracks, but we started out walking. Cuna is a pretty fit horse to begin with, and getting more fit has never been an issue for him. We matched the younger horse stride for stride, in the arena and in the hills.


All seemed well. He was a little stiff, but since having his hocks done is a significant investment, I was holding off a bit and compensating by not asking him to do any hardcore dressage and really use his hocks.

And then in March we went out in the hills and he tied up. I've read through the literature, talked to people who had horses tie up, and gone over everything about Cuna's care. He had none of the risk factors and was on a great diet.

Several people have suggested that he simply wasn't fit enough to do the job. To that I say these things:

1) He was fully as fit as his friend, who had no problems whatsoever.

2) The tying up episode started almost as soon as we picked up the trot. I didn't know what it was at the time, or I would have pulled up immediately. He kept going forward through the whole thing, but he was nearly crippled at the end. His heart was in it, his body couldn't take it.

It's also been suggested that the "spring weather" contributed. To that theory I say:

1) Bullshit. If 50f is the magic temperature at which horses tie up, we would see a lot more problems.

2) I have ridden this horse in all terrain and all temperatures from 15f to 105f and he'd never presented any sort of problem before. I have talked to everyone who's owned him post-track, and it had never happened before.

So. There's that. Yeah, maybe a one-off situation, definitely weird, no definable cause. I didn't run blood because I was abysmally broke at the time and he recovered ok, albeit slowly.

In April, we moved forward again. We started slowly back into work. I wasn't able to take him in to the hills very much--obviously, I didn't want to throw him back in with the younger, faster horse who hadn't tied up and no one else was regular enough to make a huge fitness difference. We did lots of long slow hacks on the shoulders of the roads around the barn. After I got his hocks done, we stepped up our dressage. We weren't jumping a ton because our instructor was busy with other projects.

Cuna persisted in being a little on/off lame. It was slight and usually went away with a little rest. He was lame before our jumping clinic, but some bodywork helped.

He was lame before our dressage show, but again, it was subtle and a few days off made all the difference.

Wrapped, drugged, and uncomfortable on soft sand

Enter May. I gave him two days off after the dressage show, and then he was unsound. The farrier came out for a pre-scheduled appointment at which Cuna presented as sound. We made a slight shoeing change that we had discussed before.

Cuna felt better for a day, then worse. His only work had been a 20 minute walking hack on flat ground.

I had him checked over by another farrier, who called him unsound in both front feet.

And it spiraled down from there.

By the time we went to the vet, Cuna wouldn't leave his stall to drink or eat his grain. He was in agony, constantly. It can be argued that it came on quickly, but he'd been on and off for over a month at this point. His diet hadn't changed. He wasn't on grass. His legs were cold and tight.

His retirement photos

The vet diagnosed him with "lots of soft tissue inflammation in his feet" and later referred to it as a "laminitic episode". We x-rayed and put him in $$$ shoes, but there wasn't much point in doing more. The xrays showed no rotation, but Cuna couldn't walk. Cuna left the vet slightly less miserable than he arrived. 

He came back, even more slowly this time. We had to give him IV bute because he was too miserable to eat his grain. At the end of three weeks, he was still off. At 8 weeks post vet, he looked sound at the walk and trot.

My show friends were asking when we'd be back in the ring. My instructor proposed tentative plans to bring him back into work gradually.

And I made the call.

Cuna moved to his field to take the rest of the summer off. And now the rest of the year off. Probably more--my farrier says it will be at least a year for his feet to recover.

Once I turned Cuna out, his demeanor changed. He's less grumpy and more interested in life. His soundness hasn't changed--he was on/off all summer in various degrees. I am in consultation with a vet and we will explore options for him at an appropriate time.

That's the timeline. That's the information I have.

I know it's not the decision that everyone would have made in my situation. I don't know that it was the best possible decision. What I do know is that something wasn't working for Cuna. Mysterious and odd things happen to horses all the time, but when those incidents are getting more severe and closer together, I know I have to question what I'm asking them to do.

The bravest horse

At this point, I don't believe that Cuna will come back to work in a substantive way. He'll be 19 in January. He isn't an ideally conformed horse, and dressage does not come naturally to him. I don't think it's right to just keep pounding his feet and body into the ground when he's in this shape.

He is still my favorite horse. I can't explain my connection to him. I would be over the moon if he came back to be sound enough to trail ride again, but at this point, I'm not pushing him. Courage came into my life for a reason. I think that reason is to let Cuna have the well deserved rest that his body craves.

It's heart-breaking. If I think about it for too long, I cry. It isn't what I wanted, isn't what he wanted, but it is the reality that we both have to live with. Yes, older horses than Cuna go out and compete and do just fine. I think that's great. I wish he was one of those horses, but everything I see is telling me that he isn't. His body can't take it, even though his heart is in it.

So there you go. That's my understanding of the situation and the rationale behind the decisions I made.

The Cunafish

A couple of you have asked how Cuna is doing, which is a topic never far from my mind. Last week, he was having a string of good days. He looked mostly sound, he was chipper, and I was starting to day dream about looking between his red ears again, if only for a couple of laps around the field.

I can't even tall you how much I miss that. It's not that I miss riding and jumping--I can do that on Courage. It's that I miss Cuna. His attitude, his abilities, him.









Same as last time, though. As soon as I had myself convinced that maybe I could hop on for a wee bareback ride, the weather changed, he dropped weight, and he went dead lame. Again. This time it was so bad that our fellow boarder called to let me know.

I appreciated the gesture, but I'd already seen him. I added in more fat to his feed and gave him a thorough grooming. He likes coming in to the barn and hanging out with me, but he wasn't moving well.






I'm at a loss for what to do. The standard protocol for laminitic horses is dry lots, grass hay, low starch feed and all the things he had at his last barn. That didn't help. On top of being dead lame, he hated it there. He hated turnout and was cranky most of the time. Now he's at a happy place as far as his brain goes, but it eats me up to watch him hobble around.

For now, I'm letting him be. Our farrier, who seems to be the only one not completely befuddled, has said that it will take up to a year for him to recover, maybe more. He said to give Cuna time to come around.

We have time. 

My next step is going to be exploring to see what's out there to help him toughen up his feet, since he's going barefoot for now. Any suggestions?

Can't Forget Cuna

The handsomest horse

I haven't said anything about Cuna lately. I'm letting him have a break, physically and mentally. I needed it emotionally almost as much. I adore that old red man and he made me into the rider I am today. It was beyond gut wrenching to watch him come through his last round of lameness and I'm in no rush to try it again.

Here's the thing. He came to me for a specific reason and he more than accomplished that. I wanted him to carry on and be a fancy show horse, and he's letting me know that as much as his heart is in it, his body won't hold up to it. 

He was "sound" after a solid month of rehab. Sound until he wasn't. Sound until he was tired, and then he limped again. 

The vet told me that there was no benefit to making him limp. It's not something he's going to work through. It's something that requires healing. Sometimes more. Sometimes less. Sometimes longer. Sometimes shorter. 

Cuna, then Jake, then Wiley

So Cuna moved to his new home--a giant pasture he shares with a couple of nice geldings. We pulled his shoes as per his farrier's advice and took away his grain. The old man hangs out and enjoys life. He has the other ladies at the barn wrapped around his goofy hooves and they love him. I visit him four or five days a week. I tell him about Courage and life at the track (as if he didn't know!) and I groom him, pick his feet, and scratch his itchy spots. 

I look back at the pictures of our time together, and it makes me cry a little. I can still feel him taking me to the jumps, his red ears locked on with perfect focus. I feel the confidence and security that he taught me, and I know my life won't be the same now that he's been here. 

My show friends keep asking when he's coming back. I tell them the same thing every time. He's taking a vacation. Maybe we'll hack around this fall. Then he's taking the winter off. 

And that's it. I'm not making plans for him. I love him. He gave me more that I could have hoped for and I have no right to ask for something beyond that. Maybe I'll find another field for him that backs up to trails and he and I can explore the mountains like we used to. No more collection. No more drilling. That's my favorite dream. We'd both love it. 

So we're healing together. At our own pace. And it's ok. 

The Road Goes Ever On and On

Part of trying to have fun with horses this summer has involved a long stretch of playing at the racetrack. I have always loved thoroughbreds and have no illusions of a budget allowing for made warmbloods, so I thought it was in my best interests to learn the ins and outs of the backside for that eventual day when I needed a new ride. It's not glamorous--I spent my early mornings brushing, washing, and cleaning stalls. I put horses on the walker and watched them go around the track.

Rocking a huge noseband

It's been educational for sure. I have loved interacting with a whole different set of the horse industry and seeing what it looks like for a horse to earn a living. I've also been able to observe how different horses respond to life under pressure. One horse in the barn I work/play at stood out to me. He was always calm and quiet. He dealt with new hazards in stride and didn't get agitated over silly things.

So I asked about him. He was a 2005 model TB out of California. He's a bit older and likely on his way to retirement. After some discussions with his racing connections, I figured that this fall, when he was done racing, if he was still sound, and if Cuna didn't seem to be improving, I would look him up.






And life went on as normal. I came to the track as often as I could and helped with the horses. I didn't pay too much attention to him beyond giving him neck scratches when I was early, which established that he was a personable horse. Plus he'd nicker to me when I showed up, which was adorable.

Hanging out on a race night

And then it happened. Last Thursday, I showed up at the track in the morning. The trainer greeted me with this: "Hey, your horse is retired. You can pick him up any time before the end of the meet."

I was a bit dumbstruck. It was certainly not how I expected anything to go. I mumbled something about needing to get the pieces in place and went about my day. I mean... I hadn't even mentioned to my husband that it was a remote possibility. I had nowhere to keep him. Plus, I'd been running budgets to see if two was even possible and while it was, I hadn't decided I really wanted to do it yet.

But what do you do? He was sane and sound with decent feet and an excellent personality. I certainly didn't come to the track to get a horse, but when this one fell in my lap, I couldn't say no.

Too cute

I talked to my husband, who was hesitantly supportive. It helps that I had already worked through numbers and scenarios (and pay my own horse expenses), so I was confident that I could do it. I scheduled a meeting with the owner of my proposed boarding facility for the following night after work and crossed my fingers that everything would fall into place.

And then I got a call from the trainer. "The trailer's here. Where can I drop him off?" he asked.

"Uh..."

We got things sorted out, but the trainer needed the horse out of his stall sooner rather than later. I assured him I'd have it done before the end of the weekend and made it through the workday in something of a dazed stupor. I was late to the meeting with the facility owners. They couldn't have been more accommodating and gracious, and thought it was perfectly fine that I wanted to drop a horse they didn't know straight from the track off at their house the following morning. Whew. Squeezed in to our dream facility.

Of course, Redheadlins and I followed that up with the most logical move possible: PHOTOSHOOT AT THE TRACK. (Her idea, actually. I was all about trying to not be a total dork in front of the race people, but who can resist pretty bridles?)

Without further ado...

Dayum.

Meet Absolute Courage, pedigree here.

Vitals:
16.1 TB gelding
Light bay with a stripe
A buddy chewed his tail off this winter.

He was lovely for our shoot, posing politely and not even complaining too much about how confusing it was that we kept switching and adjusting bridles and taking him out and putting him back in and completely throwing off his whole routine.

Even though I already knew him from being around him, I was impressed. Cuna wouldn't have been thrilled with so much variation from established norms and this guy was just fine with it.

He was happy when it was over though

It still didn't feel real to me. I saw him at the track the next morning and he was his usual self. The trainer referred to him as my horse again and it all just seemed weird and oddly trance-like.I went to the tack store to pick up essentials (fly spray, lead rope, feed) and a man with a trailer met me there and followed me to the new facility. He unloaded, led him into a small dylot, and took the halter off. As he walked away, I stared at the little bay horse. Who was mine.

A giant stall

The first thing he did was lose a shoe. That made him feel a little more mine--he's already costing money. Woohoo?

After about five minutes of trotting and leaping, he settled right down and figured out the best rolling place, the water tank, and the feeder. We moved him into his stall for the night.

Looking cute in his wraps

I was out first thing Sunday morning. He had polished off his hay overnight and was rather confused as to why he didn't have a huge bucket of grain to wake up to. Regardless, I groomed him, wrapped him, and off we went. We just did some easy in hand exercises--walking and halting and yielding his shoulders in the arena. Any time he wanted to get distracted, I asked him to do something.

Loving the field

Wouldn't you know, he was lovely. Focused, calm, gaining confidence. Eeek! I pulled out a ground pole and walked him over it a few times. Then I was running short on time, so I took him out to handgraze a few minutes. He didn't even make it into the field. He just dropped his head and started devouring grass as soon as he could reach it. Pretty sure we can turn him out soon. 

Retired race horse meets retired jumping horse

His final adventure for the day was getting turned out in a small dry lot with horses across the fence from him. He wasn't sure of what to make of it, but by the time I left it looked like they were going to be friends.

Needless to say, I'm both excited and terrified. I think the excitement will win out. He's a super cool horse and I am just thrilled to have him with me.

He's already good at posing

The only thing I'm not thrilled about is his barn name. On the backside, he was known as "Big Papa". I don't love it, so I'm calling him "new horse" for the time being, but encouraging everyone I know to think up something else. He has such a cool personality. He needs a cool name. Suggestions in the comments?

New Digs

This Saturday was the big day. I showed up to the barn after spending a couple hours at the track (yay racehorses!) and gave Cuna a thorough grooming and bath. The new place doesn't have a proper washrack, so I wanted to make use of the nice one we had. I even conditioned his whole body. He glowed like a copper penny and felt like a velveteen plush horse.

Then it was time to go.

J came and picked up Cuna. He loaded and hauled like a champ after we convinced him that yes, he really did have to get in the trailer. I followed her to the new barn with all the stuff Cuna needs for the next couple months in my car. It really doesn't take that much for a horse to stand in a field.

We unloaded. I started to lead Cuna around the perimeter of the fence to show it to him, but he kept snorting and prancing. I laughed at his antics and pulled the halter off.

He promptly gave himself the grand tour. 

So much space to move around!

A cute barn!

Friendly people

What's that? A buddy?

Two buddies??

 Once he got settled, I put his fly mask back on and got his stuff moved into the tack room. I only brought really exciting things like fly spray, his fly sheet, and my grooming kit. I think I'll take a wash bucket out soon and call it good.

This horse needs cookies.

Cuna supervised the whole process. He's starting to train J and her family to feed him cookies.He thought it was especially great to poke his nose in through the window and get treats, although he was pretty confused as to why he wasn't in the barn.
















After the initial excitement, Cuna acted like he'd lived there his whole life. He relieved himself, checked out the fence line and nibbled on the grass.













I thought I would be worried about him, but I think he's going to be just fine.

I checked up on him again on Sunday, and he's doing really well. Today he should get initiated to the "herd" (of two) and his vacation begins in earnest.

I brought him here because I thought he needed it, but I'm realizing that I probably need it even more than he does. The two of us can recover together.