The Soul of a Horse (10 page)

The president of the American Farrier’s Association, in a speech to his constituency reported in the organization’s publication, said that 90 percent of all the domestic horses on this planet have some degree of lameness. Dr. Jay Kirkpatrick, director of the Science and Conservation Center in Billings, Montana, has studied wild horses most of his adult life and says that lameness in the wild is extremely rare and virtually every case he’s seen is related to arthritic shoulder joints, not hoof problems.

Off came our horses’ shoes.

Once onto wild horse model, I was in the soup, so to speak. I began to question all sorts of other things. Like blankets, leg wraps, barns, stalls, feed, the horse’s nature—and what I found was like a jigsaw puzzle. Start goofing around with one piece and it affects the whole picture. And the picture I was beginning to see more and more clearly was that we humans have completely manipulated horse care and training to suit ourselves, not the horse. Under what kind of leadership did we ever get to this place in time? Why has all this information not been front and center? I posed these questions to Dr. Matt, our vet, and began to think I was speaking to a politician up for election.

“Well, it’s not always so black and white” was his answer to a question about going barefoot. “I like to see horses barefoot whenever they can be.”

“Why not always?”

“Well, some horses have issues that others don’t have.”

“Like what,
owners?
”

The smile that wiggled across his lips betrayed his words.

“Well, some people feel their horses need shoes if they’re going to be jumping, or, say, doing endurance riding.”

“What do
you
think?” I asked.

“I think some horses have issues other horses don’t have.”

I was getting nowhere, and he had to keep moving. Another client to see. I knew from my own research and experience that he was an excellent vet. A caring vet who owned horses himself and loved horses. He had good communication with them. So I couldn’t figure out why he was avoiding my questions. Was I wrong? Were there circumstances I hadn’t yet stumbled upon in my digging that would refute the entire wild horse model? Was he simply not well informed on the work of this ever-growing band of natural trimmers?

I called the next day and asked if I could take him to lunch.

And told him why.

“I need to hear answers from you,” I said. “I want to know what you really believe. I’ll promise to never repeat what you say, if that’s what you want, but I need to know that I’m not crazy. Everything I’ve been studying says that most of us are doing virtually nothing right in the way we care for our horses.” What he told me the next day chilled my blood and made me very sad. And I’m afraid it’s only a microcosm of the way too much of our world works today.

A farrier is a person who makes a living putting metal shoes onto horses’ natural feet by nailing into the horse’s hoof wall. He used to be called a blacksmith. One organization reports that there are probably 100,000 farriers on the planet. The farrier’s livelihood and self-esteem are generated by how well he appears to do his job. How well the shoe fits. How well it seems to solve some problem with the horse’s foot, like an imbalance. Or an ouch. He decides whether the hoof needs a pad, or some packing, or wedges, or a special type of shoe. Often the farrier does no hoof trimming. His assistant does that. The farrier shapes the metal shoes and nails them on. A natural trimmer wrote about how difficult it was to stop shoeing and
just
be a trimmer using the wild horse model. He said it was an ego thing because his assistant usually did the trimming, and now he was more or less doing his assistant’s work himself. He also called it a “male” thing, because he really liked the molding and shaping of steel and hammering nails. I spoke with a couple farriers about switching to the concept of trimming barefoot horses with the wild horse trim.

“It’s bullshit,” said one. “A horse needs shoes.”

“Why?”

“Because we’ve bred the good foot right outta them.”

“Have you ever tried it? The wild horse trim, I mean.”

“Nope. Don’t ever plan to.”

“I know of several natural trimmers who have never been unsuccessful taking a horse barefoot.”

“Anybody can take a horse barefoot. Just pull the shoes.”

“I mean successful in that the horse never needed shoes afterward. Had a healthy, happy foot. On the trail. On the road. In the ring. Wherever.”

“Bullshit,” he said, which pretty much ended the conversation.

Not exactly my kind of logic.

There are a lot of horses in our community, and therefore a lot of farriers.

Dr. Matt told me how things are out in the field. He gets to see a client and treat a horse, usually, only when there’s something wrong. An illness or an injury. In other words, rarely. A farrier usually sees a client every six to eight weeks, maybe eight to twelve times a year. So most horse owners know their farrier much better than they know their vet. If it’s a long-term relationship with the farrier, it would stand to reason that he is trusted. One bad word from the farrier about a particular vet, or a good word about some other vet, will be heard. And a farrier is not likely to recommend a vet who he knows is going to come in behind him and tell the owner to pull all the shoes off his horses.

Even with existing clients with whom he has had good relationships, Dr. Matt has lost patients because he recommended that shoes come off.

The owner calls the farrier about pulling the shoes.

The farrier explains that “most vets don’t know much about feet because they don’t work with feet. And, well, you should really think about it before pulling the shoes.” Those words were actually spoken to me by a farrier.

In the above example, either the vet or the farrier is usually going to wind up losing a client because the last thing owners want are folks who disagree about the treatment of their horses. Especially if the owner doesn’t have a clue about which one is right.

The very sad thing about all this is that all the equine vets in the country should be educating themselves on the magical things that can be accomplished with the barefoot wild horse model. And they should be talking to clients about it. But the truth is that it would be difficult indeed for a vet to make it in a community in which he has alienated all the farriers.

There’s a vet in a neighboring community who actually stocks horseshoes and farrier tools and sells them to farriers at a discount. I’m guessing that doing so wins him a basket load of recommendations from farriers. Is he likely to tell his clients to pull off the shoes he himself sold to the farrier who nailed them on?

There is no disputing that a horseshoe prevents hoof flexing. Nor is there any dispute about why the hoof is supposed to flex. Nor about the good things that happen when it does. I can’t help but wonder how a vet sworn to do his medical best for horses can sell horseshoes and supplies to farriers and still live with himself.

But I didn’t press, and changed the subject with Dr. Matt.

“I’ve read that leg wraps are not good for horses,” I said. “The article stated that they’re usually tightly wrapped when the horse is at rest; then he goes out to work and the blood vessels in the leg attempt to dilate to get more blood down to the working leg, and the leg wrap prevents the vessels from dilating. True or false?”

Dr. Matt smiled. “I don’t think they give any support or any true protection for the leg, but if they aren’t worn too tightly, they don’t really hurt anything.”

“But isn’t it really best not to have them at all?” I persisted.

“Look at it this way: If an owner wants to use them, and I tell him no, and the horse comes up lame from some activity, who’s going to be blamed?”

“Blankets?” I questioned, again changing the subject.

“No need for them unless it’s really cold and raining. A horse has a terrific system for keeping his body temperature where it needs to be, unless his coat gets really soaked while it’s really cold. Snow is no problem. It’s the combination of cold and wet. I recommend pulling them as soon as the rain stops to keep the blanket from weakening the horse’s own internal system.”

“Is there any hard research on cold and wet?” I asked.

“Better safe than sorry,” he said.

“So, most of the time, the owner is blanketing his horse to make himself feel better. Like I almost did.”

“I prefer to think you were more misinformed than selfish.” He smiled.

On the subject of stalls and barns, he did say that horses are better off moving around, being out 24/7. I was jubilant. At last an unqualified recommendation.

“Do you recommend that to your clients?” I asked.

“I try to be sensitive. If a person can do nothing but provide a twelve-by-twelve stall, there’s little point in telling him to do something different.”

I believe if a person loves his horse, he’ll figure out a way to do what’s best for him. Or at least put some thought into it. But, again, I didn’t press.

“There’s an old saying,” Dr. Matt said. “‘You can have money. Or you can have horses. But you can’t have both.’ I usually get called as the last resort because people don’t want to spend money for a vet. Remember that call I got yesterday while I was at your place? When I got over there, I was told the horse had been lying on his side without eating, pooping, or peeing for three days!

“
Three
days!” he added incredulously. “I deal with that kind of thing every day of my life.”

“There are people who shouldn’t have horses,” I said.

He nodded.

I quietly thanked God for Dr. Matt, because I couldn’t do what he does. I couldn’t face what he faces every day. I’d have no clients at all by the end of the first week.

He did share that he felt there was a new day on the horizon. “For several generations, the horse was nothing more than a beast of burden, like an ox. Or a tractor.”

“Or a motorcycle,” I said.

“Right. But today I’m seeing more and more people who actually care for their horses. Granted, it’s a small number, but it’s growing. With all the publicity that people like you are getting, and the natural horsemanship clinicians, and the barefoot trimmers, and the vets who have studied all this…well, I have to believe it’s getting better.”

“I hope so,” I said.

But, unfortunately, for the most part, word won’t be coming from the folks whom you would normally turn to for advice. The farriers, most of them, are not going to take up the banner of barefoot. If they did they would have to completely change their skill set or they’d be out of work. A few of them have done just that, but
few
is the operative word. We’ve already talked about how difficult it is to get most people to change, even when it’s change for the better.

The veterinarians, most of them, have no choice but to hedge for the same reasons. Economics. Fear of being out of a job. Fear of risk. I’ve spoken to vets who have said, “I agree totally with what you’re saying, but please don’t tell anyone I said so.” Many of them feel they can serve best by keeping their jobs and making a few small inroads here and there. Considering what they face, it’s difficult to argue with that.

Until I look into my horse’s eyes.

Letting him be a horse certainly won’t be getting endorsements from the manufacturers of horseshoes, leg wraps, blankets, prefab barns, hay feeders, and so on. Those folks aren’t going to burn their paychecks.

So think about it. Think seriously about it every time you hear someone say that what they do for a living is better for your horse than what the horse would do for itself in the wild. Ponder the presidents of those tobacco companies testifying before Congress, emphatic that tobacco was not harmful. Dig around on your own. Do some research. Compare what “the experts” say. Gather your own knowledge and don’t let someone else make decisions for you. Whether it’s about your horses or your life.

And if you do own a horse, show him that he’s not an ox, or a tractor, or a motorcycle. He’s your partner.

And let him know by your leadership that you love him and will give him the best care you possibly can.

14

Nature Lives

F
or more than a year, the golden colt and the young Powhatan had been following the band of river travelers heading ever toward the setting sun. They had seen and experienced things that were beyond description. Great buffalo in herds of thousands. Eagles, hawks, trees taller than mountains, and mountains taller than the sky itself. Indian warriors who, like the boy, raced the wind on the backs of horses.

And snow.

This unusual white substance that came from the sky was of no consequence to the colt, other than it made him feel playful. But the cold that came with it seemed to take a severe toll on his young friend. The boy had traded a deer felled with his bow to a young Shoshone about his own age, receiving in return a cloak made of thick buffalo hide. This seemed to keep him warm most of the winter, except for those days and nights the colt had to lie across a hole in the ground to protect the boy from the snow and icy wind.

The young stallion’s coat had grown thick and long, and the boy once joked that he looked more like a fluffy bear than a horse. On these cold days of winter, if the colt sensed rain in the air, instead of snow, he would lead the boy to a windbreak—a cliff, an outcropping, or a stand of trees—to avoid the combination of extreme cold and wet that might penetrate his coat. The winters in this new country were harsher than those in his native North Carolina, but he adapted readily, as his ancestors had done forever.

The boy had watched the changes with amazement, often wishing that he could adjust like his four-legged friend. But now winter was behind them. They had left the plains and were crossing the tallest mountain the boy had ever seen. And below them was the most spectacular valley. The pair had fallen in with a band of Shoshones who had brought horses to help the river travelers cross the great mountains. This place was as beautiful as any the boy had ever seen. It might even be a good place to stay for a while. For reasons inexplicable, both the horse and the boy seemed to feel something special for this land. Little did the young stallion know that he was not at all far from where his most distant ancestors had begun their evolutionary journey on earth more than fifty-five million years before.

Across the Alaskan bridge into Asia, on to the Middle East, then to Spain, North Carolina, and now back home, where it all began.