Good Comes From Bad

ser ● en ● dip ● i ● ty |ˌserənˈdipitē|

noun

the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way

Although I've seen horses get hurt and helped tend to the initial injuries, I had no prior experience in the maintenance of said wounds or the healing process. I do now.

I've been actually tying Daltrey, not just looping the rope, and he's done better than I would have expected.

I'm not a fan of messing with a yearling's hind legs in the first place, much less having to doctor a painful, injured one. At first, every time I touched it, that leg would snap up. If I tried to hold it up, he'd yank it away. I had to slow way down, talk to him softly, stroke his back, butt, and the leg to get him to stand still for me. Each day that I've had to redress the wound, he has quieted down a little sooner. And I think when he lifts the leg, he may just be responding to the pressure and giving it to me as if I were going to pick the hoof. He's better now about keeping it on the ground while I wrap it. Trust is being built. That said, I still stand as close as possible just in case. I ain't stupid.

I may have figured out what he injured himself on, if not the exact scenario of how it happened. I had noticed that the hay ring had been moved several feet, but assumed Mr. Fry had done it because the Boyz had eaten out the center of the bale, and it had collapsed. Then Mr. Fry said, "I keep forgetting to ask you if you moved the hay ring." Hell, I couldn't move that hay ring if my life depended on it. I'll bet Baby stepped inside to munch and got hung up on the way out.

We've had bad weather since the middle of last week, so there were no signs of a struggle on the ring other than the fact that it had been moved. That's gotta be it. He's no dummy; I bet he doesn't do that again.

I hesitate to use the word "bad" to describe our weather, since we got much-needed rain. We also got hail, tornado watches and warnings, but that's Spring in Texas for you. And look what I found when I went out to inspect the hay ring.

Easter Sunday 2011 goes down in the books as the day I fell in love with Daltrey. We were all outside and I had just redressed the wound for the second time that day because the bandage had slipped out of place. I turned him loose, but he followed me over to the family. I began to idly pet his head. He put his face onto my chest and seemed to want nothing more than to "breathe me in." He never opened his mouth at all, just breathed deeply. He went to sleep with his head cradled in my arms. How could you not fall hard for that?

I've said it before: It is an ill wind indeed that blows no good. Good things are happening in ways I could not have imagined or planned.

Learning the Ropes

 Martha reading Baby D the Riot Act

My mentors have taught me to project a matter-of-fact attitude to my horses, that is, assume I will get the response or behavior I want when I ask them to do something, or place them in a situation. I try to relax and act as if we’ve done whatever it is a million times, not make anything a big deal, la-la-la, easy breezy.

I assume, for example, that I can walk up and fly-spray them while they’re eating or any other darn time it's convenient, whether they’re tied or not. Same with getting hosed down when it’s 106˚. With Jaz (and Poco), that is true most of the time. Rarely, I may have to loop a lead rope around Jaz’s neck if he’s of a mind to cut a rug.

One evening last week, I tried to fly-spray Daltrey at dinnertime.

O Stop Laughing [a play on Daltrey's registered name, O Stop Looking]

Last weekend, I gave Daltrey a lesson on how it’s supposed to work, and I got another lesson on … how babies are.

First, because of the bad horse juju plaguing so many of late, I donned my helmet.

As usual, as soon as I put the halter on Daltrey, he planted his feet, grabbed the knot on the lead rope, and began to play with it. I yanked to get it out of his mouth, and encouraged him to move forward. I “tied” him next to Jaz and he continued to chew the lead rope as he traversed every bit of available horizontal space.

I sprayed him with the hose. When he stood still, I stopped and praised him. When I was finally able to aim the hose at his sheath and he stood still, I quit, praised him, and gave him cookies. It only took a few minutes. I’ll wait to desensitize him to having his head sprayed. I have a wand with a mist setting that I use. Once they’re used to it, they actually seem to enjoy it, especially when it’s hot.

Two days later, I needed to spray them with fly spray. I tied them both again, and sprayed Jaz first. Daltrey watches how Jaz reacts to things. Jaz, of course, never flinched and neither did Daltrey. Lots of praise and cookies all round.

We’ll reinforce the lessons many more times while tied, and eventually try at liberty.

Other things we’ll be working on:

• Walking on lead, and everything that connotes.
• Not chewing on the lead rope. I’ve been lax about this one because it has kept the mouthy baby occupied when he’s tied. Now that he’s older, it’s a distraction that's becoming a habit, and I want him to pay attention to me. I’m funny like that.
• The meaning of the word “stand,” which is neither a suggestion nor a request.
• Patience, patience, patience.

Dénouement: This was the post I had prepared for the evening Daltrey tried to sever his leg. It only took a few moments before he stood still and allowed me to hose the leg, fly-spray him, and doctor the wound. I was even able to fly-spray that leg again at liberty. I wore a helmet throughout this episode, and will continue to do so, especially when trying new things with him. BTW, that was also the first time I actually tied him (as opposed to looping the rope), and he did well. Working on "stand" is a priority. Your mama don't dance ...

What lessons (or reminders) are you working on with your horses?

Baby D Gets an Owwy

I found him wounded when I came home from work. There was blood from that hock all the way down to the hoof, all the way around the leg, blood all over his nose and mouth — it usually looks way worse than it is, and thank goodness, that was the case here. This photo was taken after I hosed it with water for several minutes and sprayed with Vetricyn. His appetite didn't suffer a bit; he was also eating.

I wrapped it with a maxi pad (also sprayed with Vetricyn) and vet wrap. Here you can see the other superficial wounds on the leg. You can also see the swelling (it's warm), and that he's not totally putting weight on that leg.

Thanks to Mr. Fry for holding him while I bandaged. Daltrey is moving slower, but I am confident he's fine. I'm grateful to have seen and helped care for injuries worse than this at Iron Ridge. I didn't panic!

There are a dozen scenarios upon which I could postulate, but I can never truly know how this happened. All I can say for sure is that I'm glad I worked on the lesson I did last weekend, which is what today's post was supposed to be about. Next time ...