The Horse Chronicles
A journal from Pennsylvania
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Tuesday, February 18, 1997.

Spring is coming. Today dawned with a clear sky, a generous, yellow gold morning sun, and a warm Southern wind to whisk the moisture off the ground. Already by midmorning, six inches of new snow are reduced to one and  patches of bare ground and crusty meadow grass are showing themselves.

I have to make a plan for that Arab. After his hot, angry, bucky work out on Monday, I have an idea of what is needed to garnish his cooperation, to mellow this boy out a little bit. Two weeks of
continuous work it will take to put him back on his manners.

Wed., Feb. 19, 1997

One hour on Tez in a.m. Real problems with that O-ring snaffle. Re-rigged bridle with a steel, short-shank snaffle & curb chain. He fights me to break from a trot to a canter and fights me if we get close to the barn.

Katie came out late with Aaron. Rode Miss Mare bareback briefly complete with a show off canter across the field. Joseph and I were both highly impressed with her horsemanship. So was the mare. She cannot come back out until Saturday morning.

3/5/97: 6:28AM

Katie has become a fixture at the farm. Last night she fed us pizza from Aaron's restaurant, her treat. She has given me a great deal of personal history about growing up in Maine, her family, her experiences.

And, we ride.

Katie & the mare led Tez and I on a brief field trip this past weekend. We toured John's barn yard which is full of monsters (chickens, cows, a bale of straw). Going to John's means traveling down the road for a few hundred yards -- more monsters (fire hydrant, storm drain, the reflector on the power line guy wire).

We traversed John's newly plowed pasture area - no grass, but a veritable sea of mud, rocks and stumps. It is a lot of leg work for the horses, good, slow muscle building work to walk around this field.

Katie opened the back gate for us. For the first time in his young life, my horse had to cross running water. This is the spring which makes the creek that meanders through our valley; the creek that spreads into a swampy morass at the bottom of the canyon. The spring where we crossed is only a trickle - about a foot wide, not deep at all. But there is a little depression about 3 feet across. To Tezzeray it appeared to be the edge of the world.

Miss Mare crossed the creek with little urging. Tez did not. He and I fought for 10 or 15 minutes with Tez whirling, backing and rearing. We fought until my arms and legs gave out. I am not strong enough or tough enough to force this animal to bend to my will. He became very angry and I became a little frightened.

Finally, I gave in, dismounted and led Tez across the water hazard. Katie was livid because I gave up this way, and she let me know about it. On the way back, Tez crossed behind the mare and he only balked once before launching his body (and mine) in an exaggerated leap across the trickle. Then, to get even with me for the experience, he bucked the last 50 feet or so to the pasture fence which was fine with me: he had crossed water and we had both survived.

Our ride through the woods was just wonderful. There is a wide trail John must have bushwhacked, but the trail is short - only about one mile. This must be part of an old logging road. Tez hated the ride through the woods, but it was fabulous experience for both of us. It was hard leg work for the horses up hill through mud and across a lot of brush and debris. Even though we were only out for about an hour, they were quite tired and sweaty when we got home. Tez was literally running on nervous energy. We cooled them out with old blankets, groomed them, fed them, and tucked them in for the evening.

The next morning, I went out to inspect Tez for lameness. Since he is so young, I am always concerned about tendon strength in his legs. No limping, no swelling, no problems. I even examined the inside of his mouth for signs of abrasion from the bit due to our fight at the stream. No apparent mouth problems. His still has that pinched spot on his tongue. I think this is from his left lower wolf tooth being slightly crooked, and it appears to be healing.

Yesterday, when we repeated our tour of the mud pasture, I told Katie that I had noticed a change in Tezzeray's acceptance of our outings. The change was barely perceptible, but highly significant. On the first time away from home, I had to be quite heavy handed with him - to control him from bolting, literally at all times, and heavy-footed to deal with his reluctance to face three-dimensional* challenges. While he is still quite tense (alert, highly reactive), he seemed to listen more to my hands; he appeared to pay more attention to assessing the terrain and making smarter decisions about passing through the more difficult areas.

If I had to "quantify" this improvement, it would be in the 2% to 3% range in favor of Tez becoming a little bit more willing, accepting. Katie said that this is partly because my own confidence in Tez has increased. Katie says that Tezzeray has a lot of potential as a trail horse because he "looks around a lot" at the surroundings: he analyzes. Right now, I believe that Tez analyzes three-dimensional terrain and his horse brain interprets challenges as threats, an opportunity to flee, rather than an opportunity to have some fun. Hopefully, as he gains additional experience crossing unfamiliar ground, he will begin to understand that with his powerful body and tremendous energy, he can control the trail, rather than it controlling him. Tez just needs to face his fears and understand that his rider will not willingly or deliberately ask him to go anywhere dangerous.

A few days ago, I was riding Tez in the pasture at home. We stopped to practice opening and closing the wooden pasture gate, as Katie has been encouraging me to do. Katie drove up as Tez and I opened the gate and walked through it into the yard. Miss Mare trotted through the gate behind us and trotted right up to Katie who gave her a hug. Katie jogged into the barn to retrieve the mare's bridle and promptly jumped up on the mare's back, no saddle, from the off-side. The mare did not even flinch.

Another day, recently, Katie rode the mare bareback on the strip, accompanied by Tez and Reilly O'Dog. Tez was doing a lot of sprinting - he was very excited to be outside. Reilly, of course, was doing his best to keep things exciting by running around underfoot, barking and contributing to the chaos in general. From the top of the hill, Katie urged the mare to a canter. Tez and Reilly caught up from behind at a roaring gallop. (Tez, at liberty, can probably travel at speeds approaching 40 mph for short distances, especially going down hill. He is very, very fast.).

The mare's collected canter turned into a runaway express train traveling down hill. They flew past the barn with Katie hanging on for dear life, trying to slow the mare down. The mare had quit listening to Katie's hands. They did stop. Just short of the gravel driveway. This was a sprint at top speed for about 1/4 mile downhill, no saddle, no real control by the rider who was pretty surprised. I am not sure how Katie stayed on. She says she has logged many, many miles bareback and her legs are extremely strong. She told me later that she had actually considered bailing off the mare at one point. Katie takes stupid chances with this horse. She has been hurt before on horses, but not badly enough to scare her into respectful caution. I, on the other hand, have an abundance of respectful caution around Tezzeray. In fact, I have a yellow streak right down the middle of my back!

A note about Reilly O'Dog.

Previously, whenever Katie and I rode off the property, I would shut Reilly in the house. I did not want to risk taking him out on the road, since he is just a puppy. Reilly would brood and sulk in the house, running from door to window whining and asking to be let out. I am sure he would have tried to find us.

Yesterday, when we rode to John's I decided to risk taking him with us, knowing that either Katie or I would definitely have to get off our horses fast to keep Reilly out of trouble. Well, we made it down the road okay - I only had to yell at Reilly 10 or 15 times.

In John's barnyard, we had to contend with Reilly's first exposure to the chicken coup. Wise chickens, they spotted Reilly before he spotted them. They turned tail in an orderly and dignified manner and marched into the hen house, all except for the rooster who turned around and stood guard in the hen house doorway.

Reilly was quite amazed at the sight and smell of these new birds, but he behaved himself and did not bark at them or linger longingly around the chicken coop. As we rode down the far side fence in the mud pasture, some large German Shepherd dogs were barking from the neighbor's house. Fortunately, these dogs are tethered or kenneled (we could hear them but not see them). Reilly wanted to go investigate, but he stayed with us at my urging, instead of running off to find these noisy other dogs.

His only real infraction of the rules involved chasing a small child - an 8 year old neighbor boy who came to visit at John's. Reilly is normally a coward around other people, but he can be a bit of a bully around children. Since they are small, he thinks it is okay to bark at them and to try to knock them down. The little boy, however, said that he had a dog just like Reilly and he was not in the least bit concerned. He called to Reilly and gestured to him. Reilly promptly ran away from him to a safe distance and just barked.

We all made it home safely down the road. Reilly slept very well that night.

February 14, 1998

Recounting the year. We lost Miss Mare and gained Mr. Beau. Kate did so much with the Mare between February of last year and August. Her work with the mare simply amazed me. And now Babe is gone for good. There are still days when I miss her, and Big Red, just desperately.

One evening in August, Joe and I were returning from dinner-out with our friends George and Vicky Kruth. On the way home, our mobile phone rang. It was Katie calling from my kitchen phone. Something's very wrong with Babe - she's either been poisoned or is seriously injured. Katie said that the mare was stumbling around in the barn, having difficulty keeping on her feet, and breathing hard. No indications of injury, though. No cuts, legs look okay. Walking very, very badly.

I told Kate to keep the mare inside, but to stay a safe distance away from her in case the horse fell or went completely nuts in the barn. From my car phone I called Tom Waldron, our horse vet, and the best large-animal doctor in the county - in the state for that matter. Tom agreed to come out. I told him that I would guarantee his fee in case the owner would not pay the bill. There we go again.

When we got home, Kate and the mare were standing quietly together in the large stall area in the middle of the barn. I called her owner at work. He promptly chewed me out for interrupting him at work, and told me in no uncertain terms that the horse was to be put down when the vet arrived. Period. I explained to him that the vet call would involve an exam charge in any case, so could we at least have her assessed before killing her? No, it's his goddam horse, and he wants her put down - tired of the hassle. Okay, John, we'll just drop her in the barn then and be done with it! After all, it's not my horse, just in my barn - right?

Tom arrived at about nine p.m. The mare is ataxic: stumbling, uncoordinated, acting confused. Obviously in a lot of pain. He examined her for 30 minutes or so. He explained that Babe has probably fallen in the pasture and somersaulted resulting in an injury to the vertebrae in the middle of her neck. There was no point in transporting her to a horse hospital as she would probably die in the trailer if she jarred or jerked her neck at all. He said that the vertebrae were probably fractured and putting pressure on the spinal cord. The chance of her recovering was very slight; however, if it was not a serious fracture, and if we could keep her quiet and contained, and if we could get the swelling down on her spinal cord.....well, sometimes they can pull through. Not a lot to hope for when a horse breaks its neck.

In the middle of all of this, Babe's owner John arrives. Sugar-sweet and just full of cooperation. He does his cow-man's best version of the knowledgeable, involved owner: "Yep, right, of course, doctor." Forget that he was swearing at me and yelling at me over the phone thirty minutes earlier. He's all manners now.

Okay, John consents to having her treated for a watch-wait & see period. Dr. Tom shoots Babe full of painkillers and anti-inflammatory drugs and leaves me with Bute Paste and follow-up instructions. The vet leaves. The mare is stable. We hay her and give her a light cover for the flies, lots of fly spray, leave all the lights on. It's late and time for bed. I go out periodically during the night and check on her.

Next morning, I call Vicky Kruth who is fond of the mare. I tell her that she must come see Babe again today since we do not know how long the mare will be with us. Vicky visits us in the barn with her two granddaughters. I spend the day in the barn with the mare trying to keep her comfortable and quiet.

Ms. Mare's favorite treatment for her painful neck is hot, wet towels. Sandy Zeiler, Mr. Beau's owner, taught me how to do this. You dip one towel in water as hot as you can stand it. Squeeze is out real good. Place is on the sore spot and wrap it fast as you can with a dry towel around it. Tuck the dry towel in like an ace bandage. Let it cool for a few minutes. Then, start ladling more hot water into the towels and add an extra layer of towels as needed. Miss Mare loved this and would stand absolutely still for her treatments. I did this for her all day long. She passed her second night in the barn. No stumbling yet.

The next morning is Sunday morning. It's August. The weather that day was confusing, wanting to mix late summer with an early autumn, we ranged between hot and sultry to blustery and cool, finally with cold
wet rain in the afternoon.

At ten o'clock, I went out to the barn to give Miss Mare her treatment. I had fed her earlier in the morning, and she appeared to be just fine. I led her into the grooming area and put all her hot towels on. Suddenly, she became very restless and acutely ataxic. I knew that we were done, then.

I called John at home. Katie was at work, and I did not want to disturb her. I explained to John that Babe's neck had finally given out after two days, that I did not want her going down inside the barn since it would be very difficult to move her out. He agreed to help me move her out to the wood-fence pasture.

John and I coaxed this poor, suffering horse out to the pasture. I was terrified the entire trip that she would fall on him, she was losing her coordination that fast. John left.

I stayed with the mare from ten in the morning until two o'clock that afternoon. I only left her once to go inside and tell the vet that he must come out to put her down. Tom said that he was on several serious cow emergencies up north in Slippery Rock, but he would get there as soon as possible, but that it would probably be nightfall. Vet's live by the triage rule: you treat your highest survival possibilities first, and leave the terminal cases for later. That meant that Babe and I were on our own. I also called Katie to tell her that she must come out directly from work. She said not to let the mare die until she got there. I told her not to hold her breath.

Babe's death watch was absolutely miserable. All day, she fought hard to stay on her feet. She could not bend down to eat hay, so I fed her by hand and watered her from a bucket whenever she would accept it. Her thirst seemed uncontrollable. The other horses stayed nearby in their pasture, seeming to sense that their friend was in peril. To me, it seemed cruel to deny Babe proximity to her three buddies, but I knew that things would really get out of hand if I brought any of the other horses into the pasture with her.

After I phoned the vet and Katie, I went back out to the pasture. It was two o'clock, or just after. She was down on her side, and appeared to be nearing complete paralysis. Even so, for a full hour, she fought gravity, repeatedly trying to rise; always crashing back to the ground with her legs tangling beneath her body. I would beg her to stay down, to relax and lie still. Eventually, she had no choice.

When it appeared that she could no longer try to get up, I straddled her body to straighten her out - to get her neck straight and her head in a comfortable position without putting pressure on her down-side eye. To keep her legs straight out. She was fully conscious and completely helpless.

I covered her body with old bed sheets to keep the flies from chewing her up. When the rain increased and we were both soaked, I put a blanket on her to keep her warm. I suctioned the pools of mucous out of her nostrils so she could keep breathing. I syringed water into her mouth to keep it from drying out. I covered her eyes since she would not close them. I sat next to her head and stroked her and talked to her and prayed for a quiet, faster end for my friend.

At about four o'clock, Katie arrived, and so she had a few minutes with Babe to say good-bye. The vet came at four-thirty bringing the only mercy we knew that day. Thank you, Tom. This man had always shown my horses such kindness and good care.

Now, we only have two horses.