What a lot of hair on the ground. I wonder to whom it could belong?
Ah yes, Doru. He's a hairy creature. Actually a little less hairy thanks to my labours.
What a mess we've made. Still it's good to root around in, Doru. It smells of you!
The birds will soon clear away this welcome supply of nest-building material.
Today I set to trimming Brena's chestnuts, which had grown to impressive proportions. They showed no sign of being shed, and I was beginning to be concerned that they might become caught on long vegetation. On occasions we do find ourselves picking through bushes fallen across the trail or thick tough scrub.
I removed about half the length of each easily with a good pair of hoof nippers, then smoothed the ends of the remaining parts with the less aggressive side of a hoof rasp leaving them tidy.
The inside of a chestnut proved to be rubbery, indeed almost waxy, rather like the inside of the frog. I had expected hard horn all the way through, though I had no reason to imagine them hard or soft inside.
There are some curious folk tales about chestnuts. Foals are said to be born without them, which in fact is not true. Back in Transylvania I looked at a newborn foal in order to check - and that mysterious land is just the place where a superstition ought to be true.
Other people hold that a foal's legs are held together at the chestnuts in the womb, which is also untrue. At least that might have sounded plausible back in the days before x-rays and ultrasound enabled us to look inside a pregnant mare.
Then there is the superstition that one can catch a loose horse more easily when carrying a piece of chestnut. Apparently the chestnut emanates a peculiar smell that somehow attracts horses. (I checked. The pieces cut from Brena were almost odourless.)
However a piece of chestnut is by no means the only thing supposed to grant a man power over his horse. In days gone by there were the ploughman's 'knowledge' that was secret to the uninitiated. Perhaps it was something strong smelling that masked or modified a horse's senses?There were 'magic' words to be whispered into a horse's ear too. They might just have been a hoax to put others off the trail of just what a skilled horseman really did. After all knowledge is power. It's best to keep the competition off the scent - or, rather, on the wrong scent.
Brena's rug has come off, gone back on and now come off again. Rain came and went, heavy whilst it lasted. It's cool out, but dry, and she retains most of her winter coat. Now she's a little grubby from rolling. The frosty white places are expanding. And the grass is growing, at last.
So, a bit of attention on my part, and none on the part of the teenage girl who drives about throwing hay into the fields. I had to remove this mouldy end of a bale from the field. It's not that she doesn't care (the manager and staff are all concerned about the horses' welfare), just in a great big hurry.
It was only through asking when hay would begin to be fed that I discovered the truth about worm counts. I had commented that the grazing was becoming sparse, and that Brena was a little more interested than usual in food therefore I'd been giving her extra. At that point the vet, who also keeps a horse at the barn, passed on the news. A number of horses were discoved through testing samples of droppings to have really quite high worm counts.
The barn staff, who are paid to remove droppings, have been simply harrowing the fields. Horses come to the barn, are moved between fields, and all the time worm larvae are spread to new hosts. Brena interited a dung-strewn field used to winter a group of New Forest ponies. Now I have an agreement with the manager that, after the next worming, all of the droppings will be removed. I said that I'd clean Brena's field after work. However the impact of lazy pasture management is clear so the job that I pay for monthly will be done properly. Worming and cleaning will take place over the next few days.
I admit failure at persuading Brena to use a salt lick. Doru may enthusiastically consume one salt like after another. However Brena will not lick the block. Of course she will lick my sweaty arms and chew soil. Therefore I have started adding a tablespoon of salt to her evening feed. This evening she licked the rubber bowl to a rare degree of cleanliness, her big pink tongue picking up every salty granule that fell through the feed. So I know that she likes salt. I'll keep on adding a bit to her feed. The old Cavalry Manual of Horsemanship recommends a tablespoon of salt daily so I'll start with that amount.
My course of anti-inflammatory medication has ended, leaving me a bit sorer and perhaps therefore more careful. That said, this evening I helped another rider with her new horse in the arena this evening and managed just fine walking across the sandy surface. It amazes me too how much better my back feels not having uneven hip joints. I can sleep right through the night again.
Reflecting on the degree of degeneration in those joints, I am glad that I stopped riding professionally when I did. There would have been no surgery available out there, nothing except steadily stronger medication. It would have been a slow and painful slide down into immobility. So there was a silver lining to the end of that career path. Still being able to walk and (soon, anyway) ride: a sobering perspective.
Here is the left fore foot of a three year-old spot horse at the barn.
As my Goya-esque title supposes, we do see plenty of feet like this, both unshod and shod. And, like some of Goya's images, they are disturbing.
Why buy a youngster and spend an appreciable amount of money on barn bills, then allow this to happen?
I know that it is cheaper simply to pay for the farrier's most junior apprentice, rather than someone experienced and properly qualified. But sooner or later someone will expect this horse to jump, do dressage and compete.
He isn't getting a fair start with feet like this.
After I returned Brena to the pasture on Sunday she rolled. In the remains of her winter coat she had become a little moist with sweat although our ride was not strenuous. Mud stuck to the damp areas but not to the dry parts where the saddle had applied pressure. This permitted a useful assessment of saddle fitting.
I measured the area on each side. The total dry area is about 125 sq.in. On average, if only the dry areas are weight-bearing, I'm applying comfortably less than the 2 lb./sq.in. threshold above which blood supply starts to be restricted. Plus my saddle has a soft deep lambswool stuffing so pressure will be relatively even across the whole area.
Also I verified that the two dry areas were symetrical. They were, meaning that I am sitting straight and my saddle is evenly stuffed. I was confident in my saddle and my riding - now this is confirmed by evidence.
Today the chiropractor visited (and, inexplicably, the dentist did not arrive). It was a good day for Brena, and not just because she was prescribed carrot stretches (more of which later.)
After being bucked off on a left rein canter in the school I had wondered about whether Brena is out of adjustment.
It turned out that she was. There was no one dominating misalignment however there were small problems from her poll to her pelvis. I'm not surprised after so many different people had ridden her.
We found that Brena can bend to the right far more easily than to the left. That fits the pattern of discomfort working fast on a left rein. That's where the carrot stretches come in. I need to stand with my back to her shoulder and encourage her to bend to the side and down after a treat. She needs to hold the bend for a few seconds then taking the treat at floor height as far back as possible. Food being involved these stretches are performed willingly.
Now I need to continue these stretches whilst treating Brena gently. There should not be fast work on a circle for a while yet. Low speed circles are acceptable with care.
That's another part of the foundation being laid. It is revealing and rewarding to be helping this curious kind horse to adapt to her new life. I'm looking forward to our growth together.
I took a couple of close up photos of the new French Link bit. These are interesting chiefly because, on most such bits, the link is rotated ninety degrees to this so that the edges face the tongue and the bats of the mouth.
What I like about the French Link bit is that, when a contact is applied, there isn't the sharp angle of the central joint of a snaffle to poke my horse in the roof of her mouth.
It's not that I handle the reins roughly. But I do worry about accidental jerks if she stumbles.
The central link is well rounded too. This is a contrast to some cheaper bits where the link is a plate with straight square edges.
These things may seem like small details. However Brena has this object in her mouth under my control. I want to communicate with her in ways that does not put her offf listening.
I remember how with Doru progressed from a Tom Thumb curb via a regular snaffle to a French Link. His behaviour improved throughout and he softened when he realised that nothing was going to stick into the bars of his mouth.
Brena's new field shelter was erected this morning.
Two men from the manufacturer put it up in a couple of hours.
It's mounted on skids so that it can be dragged around. That way also it does not count as a fixed structure hence no planning consent is needed.
The sequence of photos shows the whole process from arrival to completion.
