Fixated on Feet
If I’ve had a major fear going into this trip, it’s been…. Well, if I’ve had two major fears going into this trip, they’ve been lameness and highway accidents. People around here don’t see that space you leave in front of your truck as your attempt to avoid giving someone a Chevy enema, but as an open invitation to dart in unannounced. But, since there isn’t much I can do about jackass drivers, I’m focusing my nervous energy on feet.
I can think of few things sadder than having a horse go lame halfway into a 3,500-mile trip organized around riding in really cool places. You can’t ride the lame horse and your partner is either going to have to forego riding too or ride alone. Maybe, if you can’t ride, you should be covering more road miles. But trailering is also hard on a lame horse. You could stay on where you are , but that will blow-up your itinerary. You can turn back, but you don’t have any assurance the horse will fare better headed homeward. It’s just messy.
Once again, if you are from these parts, you understand why lameness is front of mind. The Mid-Atlantic is shockingly hard on horse feet. Hooves get soft in the wet spring and fall then shred or bruise on summer’s baked clay and winter’s ice.
Guillermo is an Andalusian – not fancy Spanish Riding School Andalusian but the kind that probably brought horses back to the Americas. He’s got this confirmation that makes me wonder if he’s part okapi, but he’s also got amazing mustang feet – surprisingly small, super upright, but hard as rock. Juneau is a Morgan, also sturdy stock. When I got Juneau, he had shoes on the front that I promptly pulled. We saw little trouble for years. Then, about two years ago, he developed a crack center-toe on the front left. I had front shoes put on to stabilize the hoof. It kept the crack from growing, but it didn’t get better. Then, inexplicably, he got exactly the same crack on the front right.
Farriers, as a lot, are not chatty. I think most would rather be in the midst of a melee of crazy horses than in a conversation with a single crazy horse owner. My farrier, Frank, is the rare exception. He will tell you all about the story he just heard on NPR while your very in-season mare oozes by his bent back. That’s intellect meeting heart. I really like Frank and I trust him. This winter, when Frank suggested I pull Juneau’s shoes (though that would mean a lot fewer dollars in his pocket) I agreed. He then helped me size my boy for boots to protect his hooves when I ride. I found some snazzy red ones that merit a whole other blog post. (see pic —that’s Kurt not Frank —and check out www.RenegadeHoofBoots.com)
Well, Frank was here today and agrees, Juneau has made super progress. After years without improvement, the cracks are actually growing out! This doesn’t absolutely alleviate my lameness fears — I mean manure happens — but it’s a start. Now, I’m wondering what the best strategy is to keep horse dehydration at bay because I just realized there are three things about this trip that really worry me. Oh, and I hear it’s going to be a bad fire season — that’s four.