White Horse Pilgrim

Long nights, bare feet and backs

It's been hot and dry here for many days now, and the ground is hard as iron. Rides have slowed down, and I must admit to having luxuriated in the evening sun.

Work has been busy, very busy. In a meeting this afternoon our Project Director commented that I "was flagging" (which was true) but someone helped me out by commenting that I worked to 1am last night to get the papers ready for today. It's one of those times.

Doru's field is scattered with hard dry mud saucers each bearing his hoof imprint, relics of a rainy day two weeks ago. There is the form of his bare foot, complete with concave sole and wide frog. Unshod, his feet easily shed mud.

Lately we paid a visit to a very well cared for and contented Pintea. (Here he is in his former home.) In fact the white beast was a little on the plump side, and I was assured that he can be a bit of a handful. Like so many horses around here, he could get by on less feed and would be quieter for it.

I've been thinking about saddles following the experiences of another rider at the barn. Her horse had shown signs of a sore back, though his saddle appeared to fit well, at least in terms of width and profile. Sweat marks were nice and even. The problem turned out to be that his saddle was too long, going behind his final ribs. A shorter saddle has left him far happier.

As an interlude, it's been a struggle to get this posted. Not only has Typepad's excruciating wading-through-treacle slowness bugged me, but my old computer is beginning to give up. It's become the norm for it to freeze at least once during each session. Tonight it has frozen five times so far. Really I don't work to 1am to manage a $3bn commercial bid in order to use a ten year-old computer and not be able to afford to replace that piece of s**t. No, the next item bought for this home, with no exceptions, will be a replacement computer.

I guess that my neighbour in this thin-walled shared property will be glad when I no longer have an unreliable computer to shout abuse at. On the other hand he is a deaf old man who plays Country & Western music loudly at many and diverse hours. One can hear too much of that. So perhaps I am less sympathetic than I might be? Plus I seem to have picked up some decidedly Transatlantic foul expressions over the years. Perhaps he thinks that I am an aspiring rapper?

Anyway, back to saddles. I used to work with stereotypically rounded horses where the width of a saddle rather than its length was the main issue. The few large 18" saddles were fitted to large horses like Doru.

Usually the worst fitting problem that I faced was clearance over the withers of a few new horses to the string, and that went away once those horses muscled up with work.

But that is all rather academic for me now, office worker and armchair observer that I am. Well, maybe when I retire then I shall regain the welcome opportunity to work at a barn again. That would be nice. I'll just need to preserve myself for another two decades.

But the retirement age is being raised. Latest news is that our new and spectacularly out-of-touch Conservative government has claimed that "our life expectancy approaches 90" so we should be obliged to work into our 70s. (Actually average life expectancy is around 75 for men and a little over 80 for women. But why let fact get in the way of screwing more labour out of the masses?) So will my right to retire at 65 be preserved? Don't bet on it. But I'd be so bored to stay at home, so be sure that I'll go out and do something every day.

Actually, if I can keep mind and body together, that so-called "retirement" could prove to be a huge adventure as well as an opportunity to do something thoroughly interesting and worthwhile.

Midsummer Sunday

This afternoon, returning from a ride, I fed Doru then lay in the long grass behind the barn watching him eat. I'd tied him up there with grass and a bowl of feed to eat, being soft of heart and besides being his friend. How comfortable was the deep sward in which I lay quiet and happy.

At that moment I realised with a little wonder that, yesterday, I took a barefoot horse out on a four hour ride without a moment's concern about his feet. Neither did I anticipate problems, nor did Doru experience trouble with any surface along the way. So far have we moved ahead that Doru's feet do not cause me the least concern. In fact they are well shaped and nearly as hard as iron.

We'd had a good ride during which we stopped for a long session of grazing. Doru's pasture is sparse and I wanted him to take advantage of the deep fresh sward. He needed little persuasion!

The sense of beauty was tangible riding the great roan beast out across a warm sunlit landscape on a midsummer afternoon. There was Doru walking or grazing. There was my dog happily sniffing out scents. Meanwhile the life-giving sun swept across my face and bare forearms. Indeed more than life-giving, for how much the rays of bright daylight contribute to our morale and very mental health. Indeed this was a joyful and health-giving ride.

Shapely hooves and the cloven-footed ones

Today Doru's feet were due to be trimmed. I was glad to meet the trimmer since last time, six weeks ago, I couldn't slip out of work and the barn manager handled Doru for me.

I like to be there not least since the trimmer is a skilful lady, keen on her trade and always interesting to talk with. Now she has a full client list as interest in barefoot increases, trimming and shoeing being two mutually exclusive trades in the UK.

Doru's feet are well, as you can see from the photos. There was one tiny crack in a front hoof, but nothing to worry about.

It is election day too, and the media coverage has filled me with despair. The level of political knowledge (or indeed any knowledge) of most citizens interviewed was pathetic. There is no galvanising issue (as "healthcare" was in the US) that one can debate and be "for" or "against", just a bloated spoiled electorate that seeks a government which can wave a magic wand and make the economy better. Then of course the populace can continue to live on credit (the British hold a third of Europe's credit card debt) and pretend that all is well.

These cattle will vote for whoever promises to fill the manger deepest and quickest. Never mind whether there is fodder to fill the manger tomorrow, most people just want to gorge themselves today. Oh, and if they individually are short of fodder tomorrow, would the government mind taxing someone else and redistributing according to "need"? Of course that means upward, as "the poor are used to going without" whilst hardship really isn't OK for the middle classes and above.

I am glad that, after the trim, I managed to get out deep into the countryside and relax. There are timeless places that calm the soul. Out above Compton I looked south and across the sunlit valley to Thorn Down where King Alfred defeated the Danes in the year 870. Now there was a leader who brought victory in war and yet also spirituality, justice, learning and eventually peace. Where are the likes of King Alfred today?

That's not Thorn Down in the picture - it was too difficult to photograph into the sun - but this seemingly nameless slope (albeit thrust between the delightfully named Lands End and Scuchamer Knob, Ginge Down and Knollend Down) caught my eye.

That is the timelessness that keeps me sane, showing me perspective whilst the world around is consumed by avarice and carnality.

Cloven-footed ones - cattle and goats alike - vote for whom you wish. You can avoid neither reality nor the harsh law of cause and effect. Enlightenment is there yet, young souls, you ignore her wisdom and indeed very existance. But when at last you open your clouded eyes, we shall be there to guide you.

A most remarkable journey

Today I made perhaps the most remarkable train journey of my life, one of a fortunate few passengers recreating something that has not happened in nearly half a century - the first opportunity in my lifetime to make this trip.

The event being celebrated is the 175th anniversary of the opening of the Great Western Railway, that creation of our greatest engineer Isambard Kingdom Brunel.

The trip itself was the first non-stop steam-hauled train journey over the 118 miles between Bristol and London since 1963, recreating the former "Bristolian" express behind a 74-year old locomotive.

The journey time published was 2 hours 34 minutes, rather longer than the 1 hour 45 minute time taken by the Bristolian in its heyday.

The journey to Bristol, albeit non-stop, was only a couple of minutes faster than the rather pedestrian advertised time.

On the way back, however, there was a different and better plan.

After the first few miles, we started to run ahead of schedule. By Swindon, a third of the way, we were twenty minutes ahead. This went on for mile after mile, and still every signal was green.

At Didcot, where the four-track section begins, we remained on the fast express line. We tore through Reading where nearly every other train stops, and on towards London. At each junction we stayed on the fast line - Twyford, Slough, and so on.

Finally we pulled into London only 1 hour 49 minutes after leaving Bristol - perhaps the fastest sustained steam run made in Britain since the end of routine steam traction in 1967.

The key is the red vehicle behind the locomotive, which looks like a luggage van but which actually contains extra water tanks. Hence the non-stop range is excended from some seventy-five miles to over two hundred.

The average speed over nearly two hours running was 65mph, only a little short of the 75mph maximum allowed for steam locomotives in Britain. That is a remarkable achievement, given the slow uphill running out of Bristol.

To be able to make such a journey in 2010, 118 miles non-stop by steam train on a busy main line railway, running as fast as in the heyday of steam and without a single hold-up, is a brilliant piece of teamwork by engine crew, timetablers and signallers.

I may never again have the opportunity to make such an amazing journey. So I shall remember today's trip for the rest of my days.

The day was beautiful, a perfect April afternoon with blue skies, warm but not hot. The clear air gave long views, whilst the angled sun yielded scenes in well defined relief.

It was a lot of fun tearing through stations where all the people waiting for other services stared in amazement, waved at us, and watched us fly towards the horizon.

Passengers in the Pullman dining car - so I was told - had to wolf the final course of their sumptuous meal, so ahead of schedule was our arrival in London.

It seemed that everyone involved in railway operations was in the know - driver and fireman, signaller, managers, etc - other than the dining car crew.

Meanwhile I was very happy at the window enjoying this wonderful spectacle of steam and speed as anyone at dinner - thrilled by the sheer exitement of the experience.

Do enjoy these photos, the souvenir and record of an unforgetable day out.

My next task is to wash my hair, to remove the soot and cinders that I gained leaning out of that train window.

Footsteps petrified for a day

His footsteps lie preserved, at least while the chill air keeps the fields snowbound. I am fascinated to see where the beast has walked. Apart from a few trips to the water trough and some loitering where he is fed, excursions seem to have been idle rambling affairs going here and there as he pleased.

What do the tracks tell me about his soundness? Whilst recovering from spavin, he seems to be movng better than previously. I photographed a complete stride, then the conjoined marks of left feet and right feet.

He made this string of tracks by trotting the length of the field, for I had arrived and he divined correctly that I had apples in my pockets. (I have a strange vision of questioning him: "have I apples or carrots?")  The tracks seemed quite even, the relationship between front and hind foot placement similar for left and right.

Isn't it curious too how different in shape are fore and hind hooves? And how much bigger the front feet are? Well, they do carry more weight. Supposedly, hind feet are longer in order to yield more leverage for propulsion, though one does wonder how much of the wealth of "equestrian lore" has a basis in reality? But this gem seems reasonable enough.

Spending so much time in the office, I feel remote from the outdoors and the world of horses. Not that I have spent too little time trudging around in snow and mud so far in this varied life. However I do have the sense that Doru is meant to teach me things, and that I have much left to learn. I have heard of medicine horses, and I doubt whether he truly is one such. Yet he seems sent for my enlightenment. As I once seemed bent on walking away from him, now he is teaching me how it is to be ignored. He is showing me his nature, rich and fascinating, which carries so much from ancestors. I need to learn again to relate to him: or, perhaps, to learn to relate more deeply, with greater perception, showing courage. For relationships are not easy, and rarely are they intuitive, but require thought and love and perseverence.

Long shadows, growing heels

After dragging dismal days of overcast and drizzle, the morning dawned clear and bright.

It was a good day to take D out for a spin. The sun was bright, the sky a clear icy blue. The ground provided good going once again.

I have been looking to put the gelding P out on loan. It isn't just that he sees little work nowadays. My job takes me away from home for twelve hours a day. On top, there are two hours each evening at the barn. Rarely on a weekday do I return home before 9pm. If I had one horse, I could afford to pay barn staff to muck out a stable on weeknights. Thanks to my adventure in equestrian business, I have two decades to provide for my retirement rather than the usual four. Fortunately I have joined a final salary pension scheme, meaning that if I can get good reviews annually and get promoted, I have a hope of earning a half-decent pension. If is a small but potent word. The above is predicated on getting enough work done of a good quality, which is not facilitated by having to leave the office at 5pm to get to the barn or by being permanently exhausted. (I have developed a way of gaining extra moments of sleep on the train and indeed anywhere. But this is not a long term solution.) Not having to clean stables nightly would be a blessing. It may be nice to the see the horses every day. But not at the price of grinding exhaustion. I had enough of that when I worked 8am to 10pm daily (and ruined my lower back) so that wealthier people than I could have nice riding holidays (and all too frequently treat my staff and I like lackeys.)

So it was frustrating when the latest person coming to try out P as a loan horse did not show up. It is the fourth instance in a row that I have been let down.

One would have thought that an experienced trail horse, formerly the guide's horse working safely and reliably in high mountain terrain, would be prized. But no, he isn't a Thoroughbred, he doesn't do dressage, can't jump over three feet. So he's the equine equivalent of a cute illegal immigrant - too nice to maltreat, but we don't want him as our neighbour.

An acquaintance who has more experience than I in loaning horses tells me that one of her horses was stolen last year by the loaner, who sold the mare to the gypsies. Another was returned after three weeks because the teenage girl for whom the horse had been loaned was discovered to be pregnant!

The two horses had their feet trimmed today. Both have excellent feet and, in fact, the trimmer was interested in using P as a demonstration of good anatomy at a training course. Not bad after just seven months barefoot!

Here is a side view of D's left front foot just after trimming. Now that he is established barefoot, it impresses me how little material the trimmer has to remove. These are great big solid feet, well adapted to their work, and in good shape. There is plenty of material where it is needed to support his weight, absorb concussion, and provide traction.

P's front feet made for interesting comparison against his final set of shoes. As with D, his frogs have widened appreciably. One can see how the rear part of his hoof is wider and stronger. His hood butresses are now huge and robust. The branches of that old shoe now lie over a frog that is nearly an inch wider than eight months ago. How amazing are the powers of recovery of the equine hoof.

Sights like this show that our journey into barefoot care is worthwhile. (It is "our" journey - the horses' and mine. Their wellbeing always was part of our thinking. That's why we didn't leave them in Transylvania.) This and their soundness and surefootedness out on the trail.

I would be delighted if a kind, thoughtful local rider appeared seeking to ride P. He is a great little horse, and it would be lovely to see him happy and in work on the trails around here.

Six months barefoot

The two horses have now been barefoot for six months. Clearing up the back of my truck, I found one of D's shoes, which had been fitted on 6 May 2008 and was removed on 4 June - the last shoe that he wore.

Today I persuaded D to stand on an old envelope and allow me to trace around a front foot. (It earned him a reward carrot!) Making measurements, I added details of the frog, then cut out the resulting pattern. The pattern and the shoe make for simple photography here in my office.

This process proved considerably easier than holding a foot up with one hand, balancing an old shoe on it, then taking a photo with the other hand using a pocket camera that is difficult to focus correctly.

Immediately it became clear that D's front feet have widened considerably at the rear. The frog is much wider, and the area of the heel butresses is wider and squatter too compared to the old shoe. Clearly the rear part of each foot is both stronger (there is a lot of material in those butresses) and more resillient (thanks to those huge frogs) than half a year ago.

Overall the foot has shortened slightly, which may be a matter of geometry rather than a change in hoof volume given that D's feet are now somewhat more upright.

I am surprised and delighted by the changes. I took the advantages professed for barefoot on trust when I started my horses along this road. I was not starting blind, for I had read extensively on the subject. However there were nervous moments, especially at the beginning when the first faltering steps were taken without shoes.

The final photo places the heels of the pattern and the shoe back to back. The  image of the pattern is distorted towards the right thanks to the angle at which the photo was taken. However the part that matters is the comparison in the centre. A big change has taken place, and that when new horn has only grown some two thirds of the way down these hooves. Marks left by D's heel butresses on the shoe can just be made out, incidentally, slight asymetry suggesting that the shoe was not fitted quite straight.

I rode D today up a stony track and across turf frozen hard after an icy night. He was sound and happy on these harsh surfaces, as he is pretty well everywhere that we go.

This road less travelled, the barefoot way, is enlightening for me. How amazing that a simple change in regime, along with suitable care, can bring such changes to a critical part of D's anatomy.

Whilst I might have lost a life amongst working horses, I have gained new insights previously unavailable to me that enable me to keep my remaining horses in greater health and more naturally. This is a step forward for my horses and I. Hopefully it will be a step forward that inspires others.

Out riding

I did have a good ride out with a companion today, which was a rare pleasure. It was good to get out with someone who rides well, has a properly schooled horse, makes intelligent conversation, and loves riding.

But, back to the beginning. A mild dawn metamorphosed into a cold day mitigated by a warming sun. It was the kind of day when one warms the bit in one's hands for a few minutes before use.

Thoughts of cold bits takes me back to a favourite topic, that of the self-appointed equestrian gurus who set themselves up to tell us what to think and do. (This is not a criticism of such serious, respected teachers as Parelli and Tellington-Jones.) Anyway, one of these people here in Britain started off a while back on the subject of cold bits. So far so good, but she tried to manipulate us by writing that a cold bit "causes agonising pain" to the horse. What, like stepping on a large nail that penetrates right into the foot? Fitting a cold bit causes discomfort and hardly encourages a horse to cooperate in future. It is poor horsemanship. But is it a major welfare issue causing "agonising pain?" Why do some of these so-called gurus feel the need to manipulate horse owners thus? To pick our pockets by tricking us into buying their latest gadgets? Because they think that we are too stupid to listen to a balanced, rational account? Because they really believe this "fluffy bunny" take on equine welfare? To feed their power craze?

Doru's neighbour Sari meanwhile dozed in his box sporting some interesting organic head decoration. Actually the photo does not do him full justice, as he is a tall, handsome 17-hand warmblood.

I took a horseshoe removed last June to the stable to compare against D's front feet. Now his feet are slightly shorter, whilst the heel butresses are the best part of an inch further apart and the frog is correspondingly wider. This is difficult to illustrate on a photo (meaning that I tried to, however the results were not clear enough to post), nevertheless I shall try to find a way to show this graphically.

As for today's ride, D behaved himself well in company (with only some rude faces to his discredit). The two horses were controllable at speed as a pair, which is always encouraging. Some horses do so set one another off to race, and this is not usually agreeable or helpful. D, of course, was as sound barefoot as his shod companion. So another ride is planned for next Saturday.

A tale about feet

Finally I have been at the barn in daylight, and was able to capture a couple of images of D's feet. This type of shot is rather challenging for my pocket camera, however the results are not too bad.

The shots are taken one week after a trim. I am very pleased with the results.

It is interesting to note the line around the hoof about a quarter of the way up. It appears to have resulted from what the trimmer refered to as a laminitic event. Given how loaded the word laminitis can be, this is a rather disturbing term. However, what seems to have happened is that growth of the laminae was temporarily slowed around last July.  This caused the wall to turn inward a little locally thanks to the moment created between a faster-growing wall and slower-growing laminae. Last July was the time when D was first transitioning to barefoot, and the disturbance to his normal pattern of support might just have caused this short-term wavering in growth.

I am impressed by the way that his feet are withstanding work on what can be, in places, stony ground. The flints that litter the fields are sharp, indeed they are the very same material that our neolithic forebears used to make axes and knives. Wall separation is under control - this was a considerable problem when D was shod - so the degree of chipping and losing chunks is much reduced.

Viewed from underneath, we see a strong round front foot with a great wide frog. The frog is more than half as wide as the whole hoof, and is flanked by robust heel butresses.

I like it that D's feet, now bedded on straw, stay clean. Whatever muck he pickes up in the stable is lost on the way out to pasture each morning. There are none of those saucer shapes of manure that get trapped against the soles of shod feet. D is also a relatively clean horse to canter behind on muddy ground, as well as being sure footed on soft waterlogged turf.  

Comparison with photographs taken a year ago suggests that D's frog is now around one fifth to one quarter wider that it used to be, and that the widest part of his front hooves are around half way back from the toe rather than one third of the way back as they were before.

Isn't it remarkable how the equine hoof is able to respond to good care by changing to a healthier shape and growing out its weaknesses?

Bare feet, cluttered office

Here is another shot of D's left front foot. The different colour from walking across the stable floor indicates the lowest parts of D's foot. As expected, this is the large callus at the toe and the heel buttresses.

The odd-looking light object to the left of his foot and above my arm is the chestnut inside his right front leg. It does look large in the picture, but is quite normal in real life.

I remember reading somewhere that foals are born without chestnuts, so I looked carefully at our last foal, Luke. Of course he had chestnuts, so that is another "old wives tale" proven wrong.

My office is now equipped with saddle racks. This room is the old second bedroom in the house, and is equipped with my desk, a multitude of books, and much tack. My chair is covered with two sheepskins, which Danielle says smell. Probably they do, as they were once used as saddle cloths (until we realised that they were too hot for the horses in summer weather.) Still, a horsey smell in my office is not all bad.

Now to add another tack box and a harness rack! And hang some pictures on the remaining blank sections of wall.