Susan Mora Schrader

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Georgia Reflections

Coming to a forest near you — Joro Spider. Capable of weaving enormous. multi-layered webs.

Spider Dance

There are certain mannerisms or motions that make absolutely no sense to an observer if that observer hasn’t got the full context of the moment.  Riding in the Georgia forest presents one of those mannerisms – I call it the spider dance.  To an observer, this would present as follows – a rider, well seated in the saddle, suddenly shakes all over.  They then drag the splayed fingers of their right hand across their face from left to right, shaking the hand in the air at the end.  This gesture is repeated with the left hand.  This can then be followed by running the splayed fingers over the hair and shoulders.  If there are a line of riders, the spider dance is initiated by the lead rider and then repeated by the other riders, growing less pronounced sequentially.  If the observer is lucky, the spider dance is accompanied by vocalizations by the performers.  These vocalizations usually start with shouts of EEKKK or YUCK and end with a chorus of “Is it on me? Is it on me?”

Looks tame but would have been over Juneau’s head a day or two before.

Helene Two States and a Week Removed

On a trip like this, there are invariably some long-haul days, which are hard on horses who really can’t change position and often refuse to drink.  One of the arts of setting the itinerary for a trip like this is finding places during these long hauls where you can unload and exercise the horses without adding much distance to the trip.  The journey from Aiken to Ashburn on the trip south was one of these stretches and the place I’d found to unload was the Ocmulgee Bluff Horse Trail near Monticello, GA.  Pulling into the equestrian parking at the trail head, we found a beautiful set up clearly meant to support many riders; we were the only ones there.  We pulled the boys out of the trailer and quickly found a trail winding along a bluff that runs high above the Ocmulgee River.  Oddly, we noted that the trail was quite muddy though it hadn’t rained in Georgia in days.  It was also strewn with a lot of rubbish in contrast to the neatness of the trailhead facility.  The leaves overhead rustled in the breeze and little flakes of dry mud rained down on us.  Slowly, we began to understand all the flood warnings we’d received nearly a week after Helene had devastated Asheville.  The day before our ride, that little river slowly moving 15 feet below us must have been a raging torrent that crested the bluff and could easily have tumbled horse and rider in its turbulent, debris filled embrace. 

Juneau recovering in his stall at Hard Labor Creek

Horses with Chronic Conditions Shouldn’t Be Too Particular

When my cousin visited from Hungary, she was appalled by the barbarism of paper cups for coffee.  Apparently, coffee should be served in porcelain -- or at least ceramic – cups and drunk while stationary, not walking or driving.  Perhaps my horse is secretly European.  He simply refuses to drink water from a bucket held up to his nose while he is caged in a trailer.  This particular form of particularity may be okay with cousins and coffee, but when you are a horse with Cushing who’s in a trailer among the hordes on the highway during a Florida hurricane evacuation, not so good.

Waking at 5:00 AM two days before Milton was expected to make landfall, we were pretty sure we would be able to get up into Georgia well before the traffic got heavy.  We were wrong and a 5.5-hour drive turned into nearly 9.  Getting off the highway for any reason was a tactical decision not taken lightly as most the ramps were littered with parked cars and semis.  So, there were few opportunities to offer the boys water and Juneau turned them all down.  When we finally pulled into Hard Labor Creek State Park outside Atlanta, Juneau was badly dehydrated.  We just didn’t know how badly until the next day when, at the halfway point of an 8-mile ride, Juneau was suddenly in significant distress with a respiration rate double the norm.  We got back to the park stables as fast as his condition would allow and pumped him full of electrolytes  A day later, he seems recovered.

This experience has taught me a couple of valuable lessons.  Horse don’t show their stress until its almost too late.  Dosing with electrolytes before, during and after trailering is really a thing you should do.  And, there’s never a good time to be part of an evacuation.  Let’s hope Juneau learned something too -- that horses with Cushing can’t be particular about the service.