On Again, Off Again

Summers are frustrating for me.  It's field season at work, which means I am doing this...

...while losing my body weight in sweat every day.  It is fun and I love the wildlife, but trust me, it's not as easy as it looks!  It also means I have no consistent schedule.  I am often on travel status as my territory covers 1/3 of the state.  Horse training and article writing does not seem to be a priority of my agency for some reason.

So I am left to piecemeal it as best I can.  I make plans and change them and then change those.  Sometimes I have to wait until the heat breaks or until it's raining so field work is canceled or we have meetings so I get to stay home.

Yeah, your clinic scheduled on a Wednesday?  Please stop complaining that it won't fill, we can't all be kept women...

However, since I spend many MANY hours behind the wheel of the work truck, I contemplate.  What do I want from Encore's round pen work?  With Solo, I needed to earn his trust, so my approach was to calm him and reassure him as much as possible.  But with Encore, I think I want to leave a little raw edge.  He is appropriately obedient, but has a little fire, a little pushback, and I don't think I want to take that away.  I WANT a little badass-ery in my eventer and to know that he is self-confident enough to attack new challenges and move boldly forward even if I falter.  Solo became bold and confident because I showed him he could be, but Encore already has his own core to build on. 

This is my working theory.  In the meantime, what riding time we get is spent on building his hind end and back on trails and in transitions in hopes that our fall season will see everything bumped up a notch!

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All Work And No Play

It's not really like me to sit around and sigh for long when I can't ride my little project.  It's not as if there is ever a shortage of things that need tending to!

I always work very hard to make sure that I keep my BO's happy no matter where I am.  While Solo has become a very easy horse to take care of, Encore practically needs his own wait staff.  With five kinds of food, a wheedling plea for better hay, and constant adjustments to try and get back all the weight he dropped in the farm move, I want to simplify and contribute as much as I can to the farm.  I will bend over backwards and work all day long to make my boys' home the best it can be.

Feeding spreadsheet duct taped to bins on waterproof paper?  Check!
Supply my own shed for all my eventing crap so I take up zero barn space?  Check!
Prepare the next feeding myself whenever I am there so the next feeder has life easy?  Check!
Perform archaeological dig in shed, cleaning it, and add some gravel and stall mats to stabilize the floor?  Check!
SmartPak it up so there is no supplement scooping or buckets to fill up the shelves?  Check!
Cap all the t-posts?  Check!

I even go further.  Given that the boys are now on full pasture board and the pasture horses are fed via gator feed transpot, I provided colour coded buckets with their own labels thanks to SmartPak's ingenious covers (seriously an awesome invention)!  You can't tell in the picture, but yes, their names are embroidered in TFS powder blue.

 
 And while I liked my shed, divided neatly in half so I could imprison Solo and Encore could eat his dinner in peace, its open sides meant it only really provided shade at oh, noonish, and only was a rain shelter if the rain came straight down with no wind (pretty much never).  So while the BO had offered to enhance the shed construction when he had more funds in a few months, I decided to take an afternoon and give the boys some sunblock on their western wall.  The BO can consider it his early Christmas present. 

Of course, I had forgotten that sheets of treated plywood weigh 47,000 lbs, so everyone in Lowe's got to see me fall flat on my face when one dragged me over.  Oh, and also that lumber costs a gazillion dollars.  And I invented some pretty interesting rock climbing moves to get the top crossbeams up.  But I conquered it all myself except the two top sheets of plywood (yeah, you try it!) so I roped in one of the women who works at the barn (horsewomen are awesome and can do anything) to help me lift and screw in the top sheets and cover boards for the seams.  Four 4' x 8' sheets of plywood, four 2 x 4 x 10's, a box of super-magic treated lumber screws, and a lot of acrobatics and "magic words" later... 

Before.

After.  The prisoner entreats in futility.

 These horses better freaking love me.

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Tantrums And Tree Sex

I bet a get a lot of google hits off that title.  If I add the word "cat" I might be able to garner the entire internet to this blog!

It was hot yesterday evening as we rode Solo and Pete, the dynamic duo, into woods stained yellow in a tree-orgy of pollen.  Oh yes, it's that time of year. 

I had turned Encore out in his paddock, content to let him rest and eat another day while I took my Shiny Man out for what had always been his favourite, a romp in the woods with our best friends.

Turns out, a particular redhead had been enjoying doing not much at all much more than I thought.  He slowed and stalled and nipped at my toes and paused at every puddle we crossed, ostensibly to "drink" but I knew that old trick too well -- it was really an excuse to get me to let go of the reins and let him stand still. 

I had to be a little sympathetic, we'd taken the hilly trail and it was no doubt akin to forcing an obese man to run bleacher stairs for the first time in months.  Poor hippo pony.  I told him it was pretty pathetic that the six year old gave me a better trail ride than his opinionated butt that day.

It was quite the miracle though, once we turned for home, suddenly, he was all red fire again, charged with energy, bare feet no longer tender and delicate, but rather charging full blast down the trail.  It still made me laugh.

Sorry, buddy, I haven't forgotten a single one of your tricks or tantrums.

A trademark Solo-tantrum moment.

As we came to a big puddle that crossed most of the trail, we approached at the walk, but it was deep and wide enough, I KNEW he would jump it.  And when that red horse makes up his mind, you just get ready.  What I didn't know is that he would jump it, kick out, leap sideways, half rear, fling his head in the air, and make his bid for galloping freeeeeeeedommmmmm.  Right at a giant tree.  Umm.

The Solo trantrums never do give you any warning.

I yanked the right rein back towards the middle of the trail and kicked him forward out of the "up," my primary thought being, damn, if I run into a tree, I can no longer make fun of lifeshighway (Pete's mom) for running into a tree!  But we missed it and instead did a long, swinging trot up the hill, even after fatty got tired and begged to stop.

All walked home uneventfully after that, got a good hosedown, and were returned to their appropriate pastures.  Solo made me work a lot harder than I wanted to, but I felt like we at least burned some calories.  Someone also DEFINITELY needs to get a bit of a work ethic back!   

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You Are Not Forgotten

Sometimes it is just very hard to write.  I try not to let my personal life (well, the non-horsey parts) bleed into the blog.  I don't think it's relevant or very useful for you or even very entertaining for the most part.  But when the universe kicks you in the teeth -- and then follows up with some kidney punches -- and then takes a bat to your kneecaps -- and then runs over your prone body for good measure -- it can be difficult to compartmentalize, despite that being my speciality.

I will keep trying, though. I cannot promise overflowing humour for a bit but I will try to avoid strangling noises, that doesn't make for very fun reading.

I am back home and back to my red boys. Solo insists on tormenting me with loving cuteness, following me around the pasture with big eyes, begging me to put a halter on him so we can go play.

Encore is very irritated with my attempts to play saddle fitter and find a dressage shaped something for him. We tried out a Verhan Odyssey, a Passier Nicole, and a Prestige 2000D today -- I only rode in the Verhan, but set the other two on him, along with a Baines endurance saddle, just to eyeball the tree. No winners yet, but I took lots of pictures and made a lot of faces. I still want to try an Albion on him, a County, and perhaps a Stubben, but haven't found a demo yet.

It's cold, with a 30 mph gust of ice-wind cutting through you, so it's hard to focus on your work. Winter has finally wandered in and I'm holding my breath hoping it wanders right back out very soon.

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This Is How We Roll: Turnout Blankets

It's getting chilly at night (although not this week!) and the stall doors are adorned with blankets, sheets, and coolers to keep the horses from shivering off that perfect weight we finally got them to this summer.  So what do the Flying Solo boys strut around in?

Encore is trying a new look this year; he has a full length turnout rug from the friendly folks at EquestrianClearance.com.  I had not tried this type or brand of blanket before, but so far, I am thrilled with it.  Fresh out of the box, it was a lovely navy blue (yay!) with yellow piping.  I loved the generous drape of the leg and tail flaps and the easy-open snaps on the chest.  The 81" fit Encore surprisingly well (is he really that big?) and even better now that he has gained some weight; the only part I had to adjust were the belly straps, which were much too long for him, but it was easily solved by knotting them in the middle and voila!  Fit.  No rubs thus far, it has a smooth nylon lining that makes Encore's coat shine.  I got the medium-weight and it is SUPER MEGA WARM.  I'm not sure what the insulation is, but it's wonderful stuff and much less bulky or heavy than my other medium-weight.  Obviously, it is colder in England than it is in North Carolina!  (Duh.)

Check out the butt billboard!

   I wondered how durable a 600 dernier blanket could be, but pasture-buddy, Pete the Arabian/Monkey cross decided to test it for me.  On the second day I had the blanket (grrrr), it was sitting in the grass outside the pasture, waiting to be applied to Encore.  Pete decided he was bored and snaked his little nose through the fence and dragged the blanket into the pasture, because it apparently looked like an Entertaining Plaything.  He proceeded to do a tapdance on top of it until his whims were satisfied, at which point he wandered off to find something else to destroy play with.  I found the blanket in a dirty, trampled heap and moaned in dismay.  I had it ONE DAY, Pete, ONE DAY!  But I picked it up, brushed it off, and stared in disbelief -- not a scratch on it.  No tears, no bent hardware, it was completely fine.  So rest assured, when your horse is wearing this blanket, he will be completely protected from tapdancing Arabians!  I'm very happy with it and I hope that Encore will get to wear it for many more years!  It's also very affordable -- if I used my currency converter right, 50 GBP equals US$77.  Even with shipping to the US, you are still getting a good deal on a super toasty turnout!

Solo may not be decked out in snazzy imports, but he still stays warm.  He wears a Weatherbeeta Landa medium weight turnout.  This is the first blanket I ever bought for him, in a second-chance auction on eBay, and I believe this is at least the fourth winter he has worn it, if not the fifth.  Mr. Chunky wears the 78" and it has a nice length to its drape as well.  Also nylon-lined with a shoulder gusset, it has never once rubbed his big shoulders.  I have had to replace the leg straps once, the cheap snaps on the back froze up on me and broke, but it was an easy fix.  I've sewed up a hole or two in the lining over the years -- it once got run over by a tractor (sans Solo, thankfully) and some of the stress points have stretched and worn, but nothing a quick stitch-up couldn't mend, so it's still going.  The outside is impeccable -- all of the stitching is still tight and it has never ripped.  I have had it cleaned and re-waterproofed one time (yeah, I'm cheap) and it remains waterproof and breathable.

The boys share a rain sheet, which is one I bought secondhand from a friend about two and a half years ago.  It's a very simple Rider's International turnout sheet from Dover.  I didn't pay a lot for it, but I have been very impressed with it; the horses stay dry and it's a great windbreaker.  No sexy horse modeling pics of this one, sorry.  It's mesh lined with nylon at the shoulders so it doesn't rub either.  No rips on the outside of this one, although I have plied my impeccable seamstress skills to the inside a time or two.  I would guess it's about four years old at this point, but doesn't show any signs of stopping soon.

We have other dashingly fashionable items of horse attire, naturally, but I'm not about to admit in one post how many.  But that is the extent of our turnout wardrobe and I can happily give a confident thumbs up to all three! 

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It Only Takes 30 Minutes To Feed The Horses

Especially on a cold, rainy evening.  There's only six of them, easy, right? Bring horses in, dump the feed, turn them back out, done!

Except the water on the beet pulp's gone cold and I want to run some hot water in there.

Except since it's raining and 45 degrees, I want to put a rain sheet on Solo.

Except he's got festy gnat bites on his belly that won't heal and I want to clip around them and spray tea tree oil on there.

Then I decide to go ahead and clip his back white foot because the fungus is always attacking.

Then I need to smear some more desitin on that foot anyway.

Then I need to take Solo's rain sheet off of Encore and put it on Solo.

Now Encore gets Solo's mid-weight blanket because it's not QUITE cold enough for his winter blanket but he's skinny so he needs more than a sheet.

Then Danny needs his sheet because it's wet and cold.

Danny and Solo can finally go out but now I have three leftovers.

Tigger's pasturemate is out of town and he can't stay alone. I can put Tigger with Pete and Encore but now they all need their own hay piles.

Except there are no open hay bales so now I need to climb the stack in the extra stall and roll a couple down.

Then I need to take hay out to each horsey so no one feels left out.

Then I have to scrub all the feed buckets so they are ready for the next morning.

Then I discover Tigger and Pete both left presents in their stalls for me.

Then I need to sweep up fallen hay and make sure everyone has water.

An hour and a half later, I can finally go home.

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Autumn

This forest has been cut over multiple times.  In the clearing where Solo and I stopped, I could see tertiary growth, immature pine trees at close ranks, the usual suspects in recolonizing slashed hardwood stands.  Except for one:  a solitary oak, half dead limbs, half tiny leaves, hanging on at the top of the hill, gnarled boles refusing to give up the last gasp.  It has survived at least two clearcuts, the only thing standing as far as I can see that is more than ten years old.  Perhaps it knew the original denizens of this ridge and I wonder how it got lucky and weathered the storms and the saws and the years.

An autumn wind rushes through the tree tops; its sound is the soft roar of surf on sand.  I close my eyes, blocking one sense to open the others.  Solo shifts his weight beneath me, grazing on his favourite weed and the leather of the saddle creaks.  There's a soft jingle from his bit, the grind of his teeth and a muffled stomp as he discourages a torpid, late-season fly.  A few fall grasshoppers chirrup in the trees and I can hear the footsteps of a young buck who passed by moments ago as he moves among the already-fallen leaves.  All else is beautiful silence. 

And the air.  Cool, but sun-warmed when it hits your skin, it smells of Forest, it smells of Life, of the clean, sweet breath of the woods that is Home.  You can almost hear a patient sentience in that air, of the intricate and vitally alive, yet so incredibly quiet many-geared mechanism that is that ecosystem.  To participate in that and to breathe in that sense of being is a gift that grows no less cherished with numerous givings.

Turning for home, Solo swings readily onto the trail and part of the spell is broken as I must open my eyes and duck the spiderwebs that are too high for his bright ears to break.  But it's still a treasure, shared with a best friend, the memory of which will tide us over until the next visit. 

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He's Still There

The setting sun makes a bright corona around orange ears as we ride directly into its fierce shine.  The light brushes seedheads and the leaves of volunteer corn stalks with an auburn glow.  A familiar, muscular neck defines my view of the edge of this cutover field.

When I last rode Solo on Friday, he felt flat, tired, depressed.  It made me feel ill and I couldn't summon the energy to let it go.  Determined to prove to him that his life wasn't over, we struck out on the trails on this heart-stoppingly gorgeous evening in early fall.

It only took two steps of trot to breathe the life back into him.  It was like watching a cardiac patient gasp their first lungful of air after resuscitation.  And it felt great.  I let him strike into canter in the next field over and he rolled proudly along the treeline with the easy stride I know and love so well.

Fixed?  No.  He remains just trail sound.  But my buddy, my partner, is still in there.  He is not lost or gone, he is just a bit sad because he thought the fun had ended.  It filled me with joy to show him he was still The Man, he could still explore the world in a swinging trot among the tulip poplars and the bottomland sycamores we both live to experience.  It was a dose of much needed medicine for us both and I, too, feel like I can breathe again.

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Soggy And Somnolent

It's a rainy day as Irene hugs the NC coast on her way north. Good for over-thinking, exaggerating, despondency, rallying, napping, and compulsive eating.

I want to say thank you to all of you who took the time to say a kind word. To say it is meaningful is cliche, but no less true. My job exists because of the crimes all people commit in the name of selfishness, greed and laziness, so human kindness always catches me by surprise.

Solo will do what Solo will do, as always. Anyone who knows me knows that I will move heaven and earth for him. I would sell everything I had (all $14 worth!) if it would make him better (it won't) and I certainly will never give up on him. He has given me immeasurable gifts, awed me with his heart, and taught me a lifetime's worth of wry wisdom. Special, unique, they don't do him justice, and I have known a lot of horses. So, hell or high water (hmmm, both in existence today!), I will see him through and we will not be lessened or defeated or cowed in the face of it.

With that battle cry out of the way...

Having spent the last, long several days chasing fish in the rocky shallows of a piedmont river, I have not yet had a chance to visit the farm and check on things. I am sure Solo has been happily partaking in his daily pond swims, where, submerged up to his eyeballs, he has perfected his hippo impression.

Meanwhile, my front yard is perfecting its riverine impression and I think I hear some chocolate calling my name. Stay safe, stay dry, and give all the ponies a hug.

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A Day At The Farm

First, if you didn't already catch it on Eventing Nation, I MUST share the utter brilliance fellow blogger Anastasia posted over at Team Taco!

The Five Stages Of Lameness

I think I am working my way through "depression" and on to "acceptance."  Well, if it's been a good day, LOL -- that means I'm almost to the part where the horse is healed, right???

Because today was a good day.  Well, it didn't start out that way, but it improved!  It was a beautiful summer day, the kind you don't think can happen in the Carolinas, with a perfect breeze and a marked absence of marrow-roasting heat.  Between hoofbeats, I caught the strange, heady scent of ripe, sun-warmed tobacco leaves as we trotted between the carefully planted rows of deep green.  Even the squirrels moved slowly, as if they to were trying to savor this unlikely weather.

Moxie and Danny:  Did you see that?

Tigger

Solo:  Grazing time's a-wastin'.

Nom.

Things IN the barn were not quite so peaceful. The yearly crop of barn swallows has nearly molted out and were demanding their insect lunches. As they perched precariously on nest and rafter edges, I warned sternly of the feline danger that lurked below. Kids. They never listen.

Nest mothers take a break for gossip.

PUT FUDS IN MAH BELLIEZ!!!!

We no skeered.  No need parentz.

I dunno, man, it's a long way down.

Yeah.  Like, really far.  And...and...cat?

If catz, he comez, I PECKZ himz.

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It's Feeling HOT HOT HOT!

Brown grass crunches underfoot and I swat only half-effectively at deer flies.  Solo's neck stays permanently wet with a white crust of salt along his mane.  It's summer and in the Carolinas that means you do everything just a little bit slower.

Since we are both sidelined, it also means we take to the trails. I can't do much good in the dressage arena, but that doesn't mean I have to give up on fitness. And just because my knee aches and my back cramps in protest doesn't mean I have to stay on the ground!

So Solo and I redneck it in true style (oh yes, those ARE blue flames on the bareback pad) as we wait for rain (bring back the green!) and healing to find us both. A little time, a lot of stretching and a dose of muscle relaxers and magic tape seem to be moving things along in due course.

What are YOU up to with your ponies as the sun's rays go from "warming" to "bone marrow broiling" level?  Swimming?  Dashing through sprinklers?  Sweating contests?  Competitive fly swatting?  Do tell!

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This Is How We (Don't) Roll: Majykal Cooling Products

I've often eyed those fancy CoolMedics vests online -- they claim to keep your core temperature down through evaporative cooling.  But at almost $200 a pop, I wasn't going to "just try it out."  However, our BO just bought one and I soaked it up and put it on yesterday evening.  I mounted Solo and awaiting my cooling miracle.

We only rode briefly and if you know anything about Carolina summers, you know they are filled with the air you can chew. Did the clouds part and angels sing as I was miraculously cooled? Ummmmm, no. I basically felt like I was riding wearing a heavy, wet towel. Ick. I suppose you might have better luck if your summer includes low humidity and constant breezes, but since that doesn't happen here, I'm going to keep my $200, thank you very much.

I am going to try their (much cheaper) neck scarf to see if it works any better -- cool water on the neck always feels good and doesn't block air from getting to your body.  But as far as the torso goes, I'm sticking to my wicking shirts; they WORK and even better, they are often less than $10.  That's what I'm talking about!

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Killing Time While Broken

I don't take being grounded well.  I mope.  I pout.  I whine.  I generally make myself a nuisance to those poor souls who for some unknown reason consent to befriend me.  I am sure they breathe a sigh of relief when I drag myself home to flop about the house and complain to the cats, who stare vacantly at me, wondering when I am going to shut up and scoop more food.  Even the lizard can't seem to summon up a modicum of sympathy, cold-hearted wretch that he is.

But it's not all melodramatics and depressed sighs; there are still tasks to attend to. Every day, Solo gets a deep muscle massage accompanied by SoreNoMore. I can see the rippling spasms travel along the muscle fibers as I compress them with the heel of my hand against his vertebrae. He cocks a hind foot and twitches his lip -- apparently digging into those painful knots feels just as good on his back as it does on mine.

Yesterday, I put him on the longe line and set the vienna reins on the lowest rings of the surcingle to encourage a low, round, stretchy outline. He went really well and it lifted my spirits to watch his muscles work under the rice-bran-shine of chestnut coat. Keeping him fit is my biggest challenge right now; lifeshighway has ponied him out again this morning -- I have not seen any ambulances fly by the house, so I must assume it was uneventful.

There are even spots of fun! Friday evening, I taught lifeshighway and the irrepressible Pete how to do gymnastic ground poles. Now, Pete's attitude towards poles and anything resembling jumping is that it is a complete waste of energy and surely there is a perfectly good path to go around every obstacle. However, he needs to build his haunches and topline and stretch out his legs for racing, so I gleefully planned a few grids for him.

Pete has impeccable balance and is a quick learner so once he was informed that he DID have to continue moving forward, even if there was more than one pole, he picked up his feet and agreed to comply. We finished with him bouncing cleanly through four canter poles set on 10' centers -- not bad for a short little guy! I couldn't keep the grin off my face watching lifeshighway find the rhythm and discover the fun of gymnastics!

Carolina summer is in full swing and the heat blazes down, although we are supposed to see a break this week. If my body and Solo's will cooperate, maybe I will get lucky and be able to sit on him. Meanwhile, I fantasy shop for prospects that I cannot afford to board and wait impatiently for the cash fairy to make an appearance already!

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Springiness

A visitor outside my office window

Azaleas are in full bloom under the bright wings of swallowtail butterflies.  Trees are pushing out eager spring leaves.  Everything smells warm and good.

I put Solo through a brief jump school last night; my own body timing was just off at our lesson on Saturday, so I wanted to revisit the issue and thankfully this time saw better results. Solo was jumping well too. Once I remembered to keep my leg on, he bounced through a four jump gymnastic in a smooth, strong rhythm. All that dressage muscle building has really made a difference, no longer is he hurling himself over the jumps in a rush.

Our conditioning sets are improving too. Wofford says we should be cantering three four-minute sets to be fit for Training Level (which we aim to hit in May). On the 24th of March, we started with

Two five minute trot sets (two minute walk intervals between)

Two three minute canter sets (two minute walk intervals).

Last Friday, April 1st, our second conditioning day (thanks to lifeshighway generously stepping in and riding Solo for me), we had

Three five minute trot sets (two minute walk intervals)

Two four minute canter sets (two minute walk intervals).

And Solo didn't really get tired until the end of the last canter set. Which gives me great reason for rejoicing. I am confident we can add on one more four minute canter before mid-May. He always moves up a level of conditioining after a horse trial as well, which happens in...TWO WEEKS!

Most importantly, though, there are only two days left in our win-the-awesomest-bumper-sticker-ever competition, so make sure you don't miss your chance to own a piece of Sweet Solo Swag. Get your entry in before 10 AM on Saturday!

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A Day Of Red -- For Two Reasons

Happy Valentine's Day!  (Or #%@#&! Valentine's Day, as the case may be)

Red Number One: Love. Love for the horses (of course!). But I also have to pay tribute to the love of my very special SO. He made all of this possible five years ago when he bought me a shiny orange ball of heart with its own swishing tail. Forever generous and forever supportive of my singular and consuming dream, I couldn't do it without him. Work keeps him far away for now, a situation that many in this country have to deal with these days, but miles are no barrier for something so unique and so deeply wonderful. Thank you, darlin', for all you do and for giving me a much-needed weekend of relaxing and recharging, I love you more than anything (well, ok, except Solo, wink wink).

Who are you filled with love for today? Is there a very special someone whose picture you stare dreamily at on your desk? Hint: four-legged someones ABSOLUTELY count!!!

Red Number Two: Blood. Solo's blood to be precise. I had a chat with Dr. Bob on Friday, just before I hopped a plane to St. Louis for Red Number One, as the blood panel results were in. Solo's red blood count has dropped again and he showed an elevation in white count as well. Both of these can most likely be attributed to the parasite load. The decreased RBC levels, Dr. Bob feels, are also a likely factor in the gum inflammation. It is very lucky we gave him a steroid shot when we did, about two weeks ago, or he would be in far worse shape then he is now.  He may also have some gut ulceration from the worms, but we just have to wait and see how he feels on that one.

In two weeks, then, we'll give him another steroid shot to build the blood back up (good thing I kept him on his vitamin supplement!). Dr. Bob also recommends a Panacur PowerPac in six weeks to make sure everything is cleaned out. I will start riding again tonight, keeping it low key for a bit and feel things out.

In the back of my head, I can't help but think of the looming spring season. But I have to pull the curtain on that particular window, so as not to lose focus on today. If we make it, we make it, but I CANNOT let that drive what we are doing in the here and now.

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Dr. Bob To The Rescue, Chapter 37

Yes, we went to visit our good friend again today as Solo showed no improvement when asked to engage his hind end after a week and a half of taking it easy following his chiropractic adjustment. My instincts screamed at me that there was something else holding him back.

I gave Dr. Bob my observations of the week: locked left jaw with heavy leaning, inability to lift the back or engage the hind end, inability to balance on the rear quarters, strong resistance to bending to the left, muscle twitching on the right side of the body when stretched. From a horse, who though sometimes opinionated, does NOT have belligerent in his character. There was much poking, prodding, and Solo giving me pathetic faces of dismay.

Dr. Bob is nothing if not thorough; he always starts at the nose and works back. And he immediately discovers Solo has gingivitis! His gums are inflamed around some of his teeth and bleed when rubbed. I insist that he has not been eating gummy bears and neither will I take up flossing his teeth for him. Also, he has had no problems eating hay or grain and dives readily into both.

His neck and back have held their alignment well but it is quickly apparent as Dr. Bob runs practiced fingers over his midback and hindquarters that there is a great deal of soreness there. Then he palpates Solo's belly midline and my horse twitches and kicks a hindleg at his stomach (which I have noticed has become rather potbellied of late). To finish, we draw blood for a panel and grab a nice fresh turd for a fecal.

Today's verdict: my instincts are not wrong.  There are four big ligaments that attach the pelvis to the spine (see the turquoise spot on top of the horse's butt at left).  These are very very sore, so they each get injected with a muscle relaxer.  Solo does not particularly enjoy this process.

The belly can have several explanations. (1) Sand in the gut (although it's a bit far forward for that apparently). (2) Ulcer. (3) Something else. However, after checking on the fecal, we discover that poor Solo is *choke* full of worms. WTF????? Valley Vet, I have been paying for your yearly wormer premium pack and following the directions and now my horse is a wormball??? Me not happy. At all.  Guess that potbelly is not a hay belly. 

There are a variety of reasons a pasture can become loaded with worms and that a horse can subsequently adopt said worms. Our pastures are Bermuda grass, kept mowed short for weed and tick control (ticks are HORRID here) and dragged once or twice a week. Of course, the shorter your grass is, the more densely packed the worms are on the blade. And the more you drag when the weather is warm, the more worms are spread around. But if you don't drag, you have poop hell and the flies dance a dance of joy, unless you follow your horse around with a pitchfork and a bucket. And the longer you let your grass grow, the more ticks and weeds you get. Seems to me we have a near-impossible situation, but BO is in charge of pasture management, so that is something beyond my control. And obviously what we do works at least some of the time -- of four horses who got a fecal last fall, all were clean except one who just had a few scattered worms (he is an old guy).

So. Solo gets the weekend off anyway, as I will be gone. I jammed a tube of moxidectin in his mouth when I brought him back to the farm, horrified that my horse is parasite-ridden despite my attempts at perfect wormer application.. Starting next week, I will start rehab work (volume II) and see if we get some more improvement this time. I'll have blood results tomorrow, so that may give me some more information as well. I suspect the gum issues may be related to the parasite load, but that I am not sure of yet.

We also got a new (improved!) worming schedule. *drumroll* For agressive parasite control, worm every six weeks with:

Winter: (1) Panacur/Safeguard (fenbendazole)
            (2) Quest/Quest Plus (moxidectin; Quest Plus
                 [moxidectin/praziquantel blend] is currently not
                 available but company swears they will start
                 making it again soon)

Spring: (1) Zimectrin Gold/Equimax
                 (see generic ivermectrin warning here)
            (2) Quest/Quest Plus

Summer:  (1) Panacur/Safeguard
                (2) Guess what?  Quest/Quest Plus

Fall:  (1) Strongid (pyrantel pamoate)
        (2) You know it, Quest/Quest Plus

In addition, make sure you worm for tapeworms at least 2x per year (praziquantel does this).

If Solo is still showing signs of issues after we clean this mess up, then we will try feeding psyllium for a week and/or treating for ulcers.  I am hoping that will not be an issue...  I will never know what he did to himself.  Most likely, he slipped in the pasture and just slammed his hips playing.  But what I beg/plead/gasp/hope/want now is for him to get better!!

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One Day At A Time, One Day At A Time

I am having to make this my mantra. Because if I go any further ahead of myself than one day, I start flipping myself out and have to refer myself back to the previous post.

Yesterday was a bright 56 degrees and the sun warmed everyone's cold and grumpy spirits. I got to give Solo a bath to work out the ground-in winter dirt that brushes just seem to move around. There are even patches of grass beginning to peak out from the bare pasture soil. We are well overdue for some soul renewal!

P was out giving lifeshighway a lesson, so I begged her to watch Solo canter in each direction and tell me what she saw, since she is used to watching him go and has a good eye. She reported that he looked pretty decent and did not display anything other than his normal slight stiffness on his stiff side. Which means I need to stop obsessing and just ride the damn horse.

She also confirmed that we are doing the right thing by taking it slow. Even though it drives me nuts to sit on the horse and not ask for much. If you don't give the rehab its due time, the problems can haunt you for years down the road and THAT is the one thing that keeps my impatience in check.

P has dealt with this in the past as well. Her Dutch mare was a bit uneven behind and had to be ridden in shoulder-fore for 3 YEARS before it went away. Which on one hand makes your eyes bug out, but on the other hand, tells me that no, my horse is not oddly crippled, he just needs time strength-building and we'll get back closer to good.  I need to forget about what is happening a month from now, two months from now, and focus on today.

Just ride the damn horse and stop flipping yourself out, just ride the damn horse...

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Me So Handy

I am hoping the warming weekends mean that winter is moving on out. If it's not, I may use the pitchfork in a forceful manner to encourage it to do so.

Solo is finishing up his bute regimen and I will attempt to get on him tomorrow to see what I have under me. Keep your hooves crossed please!

Since one must keep oneself busy in winter to avoid assuming the shape of an eggplant, I decided to load all my power tools in the truck last weekend and attack some crippled jump standards we'd been storing. Yay, power tools! Music to a girl's ears...

There were four gate wing standards.  Two had legs rotted off and several of the middle boards were, well, held together by duct tape.

I'm on it!! Just give me an extension cord and I'm entertained for hours! Ok, at least an hour till I get impatient and figure out some shortcut that won't look quite as good but hey, it's fixed! Check out the prowess in action! Thank god I am better at building things than I am at dressage.

I know, it's amazing I didn't saw a finger off. Solo and I share accident-prone genes. We make up for it with, uh, our charmingness, of course!

Voila! One of my newly patched masterpieces. Mad skillz, baby, mad skillz.

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Down Time

I hate winter. I may have mentioned that a time or two before.

It makes me feel like a prisoner: footing sucks, it's dark every day after work, and it's so damn cold I spend half my time putting on or taking off layers of strategically arranged clothing. I long for the day when I can walk outside with one shirt on. Just one. Sheer bliss, that is.

Solo seems to be taking it lying down.  With his eyes closed.  On a bed of sun-warmed hay. At least one of us is comfortable.

It is then left to us sun-starved and shivering riders to come up with tasks to fill our barn time when the ground is slop. Or frozen. Or covered in a lethal mix of ice and snowpack. Because I am freaking tired of riding around in circles in the stupid arena. And so is my horse.

As a result, my trailer dressing room is organized with new and OCD-appropriate containers. Including a, get this....wait for it....magnetic paper towel holder. I consider it my crowning achievement in trailer pimped-out-ness.

I have also mended Solo's blanket linings with my dazzling seamstress skills.

Do try to restrain your awe and envy. I am sure Hollywood costume designers are already googling my number.

I have also reorganized my tack room corner, devised a way to store my extra baling twine, invented a saddle pad hanging system, cleaned the feed room, and cleaned all my buckets.

Now what?

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Headless Horsemen (And Horses)

I certainly hope this is not a harbinger of our coming season.  My sticker appears not to have survived the salt slush grind that was West Virginia mountain interstates yesterday.  Good thing USEA sees fit to send you a new one every year.

I hope Santa (or the Flying Spaghetti Monster or whoever) has graced you all with holiday pony hugs and treats.  I want to offer a congratulations to Allison who is the new owner of a dressage saddle!  Once worn by the legendary Solo, it is sure to bring greatness to any pair of equine shoulders beneath it.

If no one brought you a saddle for Christmas, our BO still has her two jumping saddles available.  I am sure she is open to offers as well, as the ponies always need hay!

Solo and I are plopping around in what's left of the snow, meeting some new neighbours, and scheming of a spring season (ok, maybe that last one is just me).  The days are getting longer (wahhooooo!) and with any luck, evil white precipitation will go back up north where it belongs!

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