“Kate.  Why are you walking?”  Kate had just emerged from under an oak tree.  She was on foot, leading Dancer.  We were on route to the Artemas Gintzon Pathway and, as I often do, I had ridden ahead a bit on my bike.

“He got scared.  Did you see the Halloween decorations?”  I had.  It was October first.  I’d ridden past the mini graveyard with emerging skeleton, a collection of plastic pumpkins and a couple of glittery bats and thought, “Here we go again.  Well, at least there’s nothing moving.”  I hadn’t noticed the hanging phantom, which not only moves, but has a spooky voice recording to go with it.  These decorations will be alarming the horses for an entire month.

Between Halloween decorations, birthday party balloons, tree grinders and the occasional siren, most of the riders have gotten accustomed to having to dismount every now and then.  Annoying, but most of the time it’s worth it.  Saturday’s ride definitely was.  It was a perfect, crisp, fall afternoon.  Little or no traffic and a light breeze with fresh horses.    By the time the girls were on Moody, I was trailing them again.  There are a couple of pathway segments on Moody that are removed from the road, which we always take at a good clip.  After the first segment, I didn’t catch sight of them again till they were half way up the Artemas Gintzon, though I could see the fresh tracks and hear their laughter.

The Artemas Gintzon path takes off from Moody and winds through a preserve at the perfect rate of rise for more fun canter.  After cantering single track through oak forest, there is the half mile gallop road at the end of it.  Our route then takes us through Westwind Barn, after which we re-enter the preserve and canter through open pasture to the top of a hill that overlooks most of the bay.  With the angled, fall, late in the day light, flying up a hill on horseback with views that spread for miles, the world feels magical. But it comes at a cost.

Los Altos Hills is not so much dangerous as it is tiresome and tedious.  “Everybody stop now so I can remove the poop.”  “Turn and face while this truck passes.”  “Just ignore the barking dog.”  “We have to go the long route today because they are tearing down a house.”  It seems absurd, at first.  Truth of the matter is, most parents aren’t up for driving an hour or more, through rush hour traffic, to Gilroy or Santa Cruz or Half Moon Bay, places where it seems like there’d be more room to ride so stuck with the complexities of negotiating traffic we are.  Although I can’t help but think what it might be like elsewhere.

I actually get a lot of helping thinking about what it would be like elsewhere from my friend, Clara, who lives in Eugene, and from my dad, who lives in Carson City, and from my niece, who lives in Bend.  This help comes in the form of Zillow, Redfin and WesternOregonHorseProperties links: Barn with twelve stalls; 150 X 200 ft covered arena with new footing; turn out pastures with vinyl fencing.  The rural treats are dangled in front of me like a carrot in front of a donkey.  There’s also the fact that, at some point, KidsLoveHorses could, with short notice, find itself without a home.  It’s a small chance, but one that I want to be prepared for none the less.

Most people in Oregon drive Dodge trucks, not Ford.  In California, Ford trucks rule.  If they aren’t driving a truck, they are driving sedans, though seems like pretty much everyone owns a truck.  This was my observation after having spent three days driving around the Willamette River Valley. My friend Clara says they all drive trucks because they are always pulling something; boats, dirt bikes, campers, and, of course, horse trailers.  Oregon has an extraordinary number of outdoor activity options.  Southern Oregon is a hub for endurance riding enthusiast for good reason.  Unfortunately, to take advantage of these options, you have to hitch up your rig and drive for two or three hours.

First of all, a rig; truck and trailer; is $50,000 to $100,000.  Second, driving 10,000 lbs of truck and trailer with live animals on board through traffic or on rural roads, is not exactly a cake walk.    Third, who has that kind of time?

The last thing I thought a trip to Oregon would do would be to make Los Altos Hills look good, but it did.  Even if I did move KLH to Santa Cruz or Half Moon Bay or Gilroy, I’d have the same problem: no trails without trailering.

In Los Altos Hills, the horses have a large fan base.  Many residents take pride in the fact that there are horses being ridden about in their community.  I know this because they tell me so on an almost daily basis.  Yesterday, on my way to Clark’s field with a group of girls, I was stopped by a hills resident who told me enthusiastically just how much she loved seeing the young riders out with the horses; how beautiful it was.  She said, “I can’t think of anywhere else that you can see this.”  I think she may be right.















Funny Barn

“This gate pulls out and this gate pushes in.  Don’t get them confused and, oops, they do stick a little bit” says Karen, owner of the barn where Dancer now lives, as we are entering the property. The wheel at the bottom of the gate is catching on a small branch, placed in front of it to keep it from opening by itself.  She continues with, “Oh and mind the hot tape.  When you hook it up again, don’t twist it.”  There are two hot tape ropes to undo and do to enter the main paddock.  Then four to close it off, three to secure Mark, a thirty-one year old Arab, into his paddock, then another three to secure Cookie, Karen’s Bakshur Curly, into her paddock, then another three to let Dancer out.  There are two more hot tape ropes to be removed so that Cookie can have access to her stall and there is the hot tape rope across the manure bins and more hot tape to be negotiated in entering the barn and in retrieving the muck bucket from where Karen keeps it under the awning she has erected to protect her ancient horse trailer.  While you are dodging, ducking under or fumbling with hot tapes, you need to pay attention not to trip over or move multiple segments of curved, plastic, drainage tubing, placed strategically to deter Mark and Cookie from getting overly interested in the hot tape, which they don’t always “respect.”

To get to the faucet for Dancer’s water, you have to go around the back of Dancer’s stall; tub is at front of stall; walk through a narrow break in hot tape, step over several rail road ties, traverse a field of uneven and unsecured stall mats with edges tipped up, ready to trip you, reach around, down and through a bush to the faucet which has a lever as well as a dial that must be turned/flipped in order to turn on the water.  Turning the barn lights on is a similar experience with random, empty buckets added to the obstacle course.  Half the time you have to do this, it’s dark and you can’t see a thing.

Kate likes it here.  Even though she lost her key the day after I gave it to her, she miraculously manages to negotiate the complex hot tape arrangements, that are different depending on whether it’s morning, afternoon or night, the placement of the tubing and the water faucet and light switch obstacle course without any difficulty or distraction.

Mark, the aging Arab, rarely sees his owner and I’ve never seen her take him out.  He was an eventing horse until his late teens.  As far as we can tell, he still thinks he’s up for a jump course.  There is no reason for this horse to be retired other than the fact that his owner is now to busy for him and there are all too few people who have the skills or understanding to commit.

Like most horses at Karen’s, Mark is covered in fly gear – face mask; leg covers.  He’d been wearing same gear, unchanged for a month straight.  With the latest rain, I figured he could use a break.  But Mark wouldn’t let me near him.  “Kate – you give it a try!”  Sure enough, Mark stood stock still as Kate approached him and gently removed his gear.

Next day at Karen’s barn, I stopped by to find Kate in the big, front paddock with Mark doing ground work. “He seems so lonely.” Said Kate.  It’s a common fantasy that horses cast aside and left on their own are happy.  Horses are much less concerned about the care, or lack of, that they get, then they are whether or not they are loved and that they get to spend time with the people who they love. Leah, a horse girl from my days at Whispering Creek, would be gone from the barn for months at a time.  Appalled by the lack of care for her horse, Bollinger, I would bend over backwards attending to his blanketing, hoof care, turn out, etc… Bollinger never could give a fig about me.  When Leah showed up, however, he would have fits of ecstasy on being reunited with the woman who loved him.  That’s what mattered most to him and it’s  what matters most to all the horses I know.

It goes both ways. Kayla, Kate’s favorite riding buddy and frequent “partner in crime”,  spent a long time grooming Cowgirl last night.  Kayla said that everyone needs a pony or miniature horse to hang out with so that they can be happy.  Kayla’s first equine love is Cowgirl so she’s prejudiced towards ponies.  Even though she can’t ride CG much anymore, she hasn’t forgotten that CG needs her love.

Kayla has the day off from school today, which is why I have time to make a blog post; Kayla will be doing the lunch feed and muck at Campo.  She had only one commitment.  She had an appointment at school where she was supposed to discuss her development goals.  When pressed for details, she talked about reading goals and social studies projects and math assignments.  This kind of talk always makes my heart sink.  Why doesn’t learning responsibility and honoring commitments to those you love count as a goal?  What about the self discipline necessary to put the saddle on the saddle rack in the correct direction with the stirrups run up, the cover on – completely on, the pad upside down – to air out, the girth on top of that, the tack room light off, the door locked, the gates latched and shut, the ointment on the sweet itch, the fly boots on all four legs – correct direction up, the hooves picked, the water checked, the poop removed from the path, the bell boots on, the hock boots on, and on and on.  How about the delayed gratification concept and self control needed to understand why when you release a horse into the paddock you send them ahead of you, ask them to turn and face the gate, then lower their head towards you and lean in while you untie the halter?  The checker at the grocery store said to me last night, “There’s a lot to caring for a horse isn’t there?  You have to pick hooves, right?”  I laughed because that isn’t even the half of it.

Kayla, age eleven, can do all of this and more.   But why doesn’t it count?

And it doesn’t count to parents either. I had to drive Kate out on Monday, a day she had off from school.  I made a comment about how difficult it was for her mom to drive her out.  She said, “But she has time to drive my sister to softball practice every day and to games that are far far away on weekends and require staying in a hotel.”

Dancer’s position right now is tenuous.  He’s perfect for older girls, but too lively for the regular program.  As long as Kate can half lease him, I can justify holding on to him, but that’s not for sure.  Kate has to keep her grades up.  When asked to clarify, Kate’s mom said, “she has to make sure she does her homework and stuff.”  So it is very, very unclear if Kate will be allowed to continue to lease.

Savannah Yee loves Dancer.  Her facebook page profile is a picture of the two of them.  But she hasn’t been out for two months.  Her parents are making sure she gets out to the mini-horse, Tex, a 4H project, every week.  Why not Dancer?  His future depends on whether or not she is able to show up for him.  For most people, matters of the heart don’t even seem to be on the radar.

I remember vividly picking my first hoof.  I was five years old.  The horse was an older, dark colored mare named Spring.  It was a cool, fall day. I remember the angle of the light; must have been afternoon; the smell of the ground and the feel of hoof, rough against my hand. The woman who was teaching me and I were under the shade of a scraggly oak tree at the high end of a huge, sloped paddock/pasture.  There was a small, weathered, simple, wooden board bench where she sat and held the lead rope and coached me.  I was to hold the hoof not the pastern, the pick needed to be held such that the heel of my palm would be used to press down for leverage and I wasn’t to touch the frog.  The horse decided to rest it’s weight on me as I worked.  I was small, but I’ve always been strong so it didn’t bother me.  If I were a horse, I’d lean also.  In fact, most of the girls would rather the horse lean then pull the hoof away.  I’ve never forgotten a word that was told to me that day.  I never had to be told twice how to pick up a hoof or how to pick it.  Can’t tell you a thing about what happened in first grade.

It’s hard work picking hooves; ten times so for a five year-old.  I worked harder for that horse when I was five than I did at anything else for another twenty years.  Does learning how to work not matter?  The area of the brain that connects to the hands is larger in proportion than any other function.  Using your hands is essential for maintaining mental health and well being.  And what about the heart?  The hearts of humans and the hearts of horses?  When I tell people that 170,000 horses in the US every year become “unwanted” and that 100,000 of those are sent to slaughter, people are aghast.  But show up for the horse?  It’s the same as how everyone is upset over climate change, but the F150 truck is the best selling auto.

If I do have to try and rehome Dancer, I won’t write about it.  That will be too painful.




Dashing Jackson

The orange rope halter was mine to begin with so it didn’t go with him. When Kate and Kayla came out to the barn for the first time after he left, they both cried when they saw it. Jackson was one too many horses to begin with.  Bought for a fifteen year-old sent to boarding school, he showed up in my life after the girl graduated and Jackson had been shipped home to Saratoga. Stabled at Garrods, his young owner, Emma, now eighteen, had lost interest.  Pam, my former trainer, who’d been hired to work with him once a week, showed up one day to find the stall filled with a week’s worth of manure, the removal of which was supposed to have been Emma’s responsibility.  Pam called me.  Could I use another horse?

14hh, fifteen years-old, gaited, stable on his feet, sweet tempered and slow as molasses, Jackson was perfect for taking kids out on trails.  KidsLoveHorses had been expanding slowly, but consistently. Even if that continued, taking Jackson on would be a stretch. Taking on Jackson was not a prudent move.  But, like Pam, I just can’t stand to see a good horse rot. I figured I might as well give it a go.

The original plan with Jackson was that Emma’s younger sister would take up riding.  Taking her out was like pulling teeth.  After a year, the mom finally stopped pushing.  Girls fell in love with him and then more in love with theater or with jumping.  He detested the arena and was slow on trail, which meant he wasn’t fun enough for the advanced riders. My 170lbs was a bit much for his older, arthritic body.  Relegated to carrying beginners, very young riders and those who tended to be fearful, he grew to resent his job and would, on occasion, out of confusion or frustration, unseat a rider.  It’s not fair to any horse to have them carry only novice riders.  Jackson tolerated his job, but, unlike the other horses, there was no upside for him.  As hard as it is to place almost any horse in a new home, Jackson was an exception.  He was one of those rare, genuinely safe on trail horses who could carry their rider in comfort for hours.  This is what every older, female rider I’ve ever talked to always wants.

I had a heart to heart with Emma’s mom. “Yes I know Emma loves him, but she’s not doing anything with him and she doesn’t look like she’s going to. I can’t give him a permanent home. The older he gets, the harder he’s going to be to place.”  At this point, KLH, never a financially viable operation, was bleeding money.  Jackson was fun to take to the beach. The kids could ride double on him.  We had six horses for PlayDay.  We always had as many horses as the kids wanted.  Theoretically, KLH should be able to support six horses. Throw a rock in any direction and you’ll hit a kid who loves horses and wants to ride.  There are some supportive parents, but it is surprising how many parents are not on board.  “I’d love to ride more, but my parents want me to play softball.” “We’re going to be traveling all summer and when the girls get back, they will both have tutoring every week. Are you sure it won’t work for them to ride once a month?” And my favorite, “She would only be able to ride three times this month.  We’re going to Japan for two weeks.  You know how expensive travel is.  Riding just isn’t in the budget.”  It wouldn’t have bothered me if that parent hadn’t also just bought herself a custom BMW.  This mentality is the norm, not the exception.

Emma’s mom agreed to find Jackson a new home.  But then, nothing. Month after month passed with no action.  I finally emailed Emma. “You know that April, May and June are the months to sell horses. If you haven’t found a home for him by end of June,” it was now first week of June, “you probably won’t find one until next spring.” Turns out they’d promised Jackson’s former owner they’d notify her if they ever decided to sell him, but they’d been unable to contact her.  She’d moved; to Kentucky; they thought.  There are about a dozen Carla Godsey’s on Facebook, but only one of them with a picture of herself riding a flaxen chestnut Rocky Mountain Horse – spitting image of Jackson. This Carla Godsey lives in Tennessee and yes, it was the right woman.

First week of July I got an ecstatic call from Emma’s mom, “She wants him back! She wants him back!”  Turns out, Carla had sold Jackson under duress. She had been working full time, was financially strapped and had become the primary care taker for her terminally ill mother. She had become unable to care for Jackson and decided finding him a new home was necessary. But she loved him so she cried for two days after he left.  Nine years later, her husband had retired, she was now working halftime and she had a three year-old, horse crazy grand daughter.  She felt it was like a long lost child would finally be coming home. Three weeks later, Jackson was on his way to Tennessee.

I hadn’t expected him to leave that quickly.  I thought it would take them year or more to place him. My pocket book is happy, but my heart, not so much.  Not Kate nor Kayla either.  Kate cried herself to sleep the night he left.

Serena walked past the paddock yesterday.  She said, “Where’s Jackson?” It’s been a month since he left, but she’d been out of town most of the summer and wasn’t up on current events.  The paddock has had four horses in it for six years.  I keep looking for the missing horse and remembering there are only three now.  I’m surprised how much I miss him.

Jackson is not the only loss this past month. Kids Love Horses has graduated it’s largest group of young riders ever:  Shani, Sierra, Savannah, Sara, Jackie and Rachel – fully one third of the KLH riders.  Some of them will be in and out on occasion, but it’s not the same.  Not only does the barn feel empty from Jackson’s absence, it is also now empty of the exuberance, intelligence, complexity and humor of the older girls. There is another set of young riders coming along.  Sophie turned eight today. She couldn’t imagine a better birthday present then being able to spend time with the horses. Arya, who turns eight in two weeks, has invited the entire “class” of KLH riders to a pool party for her birthday.  Her mom has agreed to let Arya skip soccer and ride twice a week instead.  There is promise, but it will take time, probably several years, before the fully inhabit the barn, infusing every corner of it with their presence as they fill themselves with joy in each others company and in the company of the horses.

There are many horses needing homes who would find happiness as a sixth horse with KLH. Lord knows Cowgirl could use a break. She has to work harder than she should at her age.  I keep hoping for adequate support and I think it’s out there, but I’m afraid it will take so long to build up that by the time it does, I will be ready to retire.  In the meantime, five horses it is.

Even with enthusiastic support, Jackson would not have stayed with KLH.  His happy ending is one I wish for every horse.  But he is missed, for sure.

riding double

Kids Love Kate

“If Sophie rides Chavali and Kayla rides Cowgirl, who is going to ride Velvet?” Kate is standing in the paddock at Quail holding CG for Jaya who is grooming CG.  Kayla, who has just arrived, overheard Kate’s comment. “I’m not going to ride Velvet because I don’t like being in the lead.”  Jaya doesn’t say anything because Jaya doesn’t say anything. Well, OK, sometimes she does say something, but not very often. I say,”Well one things for sure, we aren’t taking Dancer out.”  Kate says,”because he can’t be ridden.”  I said, “No, he can be ridden.”  Dancer got X-rays two days ago.  The coffin bones in his rear hooves are rotated backwards.   The farrier, who is scheduled to come tomorrow, is supposed to radically trim the toes, which will allow the coffin bone to sit at the correct angle.  Technically, today, he can still be ridden. Kate puts her hands on her hips and stamps.  “No! Dancer is not going to be ridden!  He needs to rest and get better!”  Clearly the matter was no longer up for discussion, not that we could have discussed more if we wanted to because at that moment Arya and Sophie showed up and with gleeful squeals threw themselves headlong at Kate.  Sophie cried, “Group hug! Group hug!”  Kayla and Jaya happily piled on.

The group hug proceeded to take several different forms, most of which included someone being on someone else’s back.  As I was standing in the driveway thinking, “Oh my.  How am I ever going to get them focused on riding?” It occurred to me that Arya’s mom was still there and “wouldn’t it be nice for you all to get a ride over the Campo rather than walk, although someone is going to have to stay with me and tack up CG.”  Kayla scrunched up her nose, pursed her lips and glared at me,which means,”How could you even consider someone other than me to ride CG?!” While Arya, Jaya and Sophie are glared at me and clung to Kate, which meant, “Don’t you dare separate us from Kate!”  And so it was.

By the time Kayla, Cowgirl and I arrived at Campo, Kate and the munchkins had Chavali, Velvet and Jackson out. Sophie was energetically grooming Chavali. Arya was holding a bridle in one hand and and tugging at Jackson’s cross tie with the other saying,”Lower your head!” I suggested this may not be the best approach.  She was in the mood to listen, followed my instructions and within minutes had successfully bridled the horse, no small feat for a seven year-old.

Jaya was standing by Velvet doing nothing. “Jaya are you OK?”  I had her walk over to me. She said, in a very quiet voice, that she was tired. “Well, then, you should like down.”  Kate got a horse blanket out. Kayla picked out the most padded saddle pad for a pillow and we had Jaya lie down.  “I’m tired too!” , said Sophie and she dramatically yawned and stretched.  “So am I!”, said Arya.  Both girls joined Jaya on the blanket, though Arya didn’t actually lie down. She squatted for a bit, then bounded around and over the other girls. Jaya wasn’t getting much rest, but she also didn’t actually seem that tired. I looked at Kate and said, “Does Jaya know?”

Jackson will be leaving.  It’s hard to find a good home for a horse.  Jackson’s owner didn’t seem to have the persistence or the motivation necessary and she’d been dragging her feet saying his former owner, the woman who bred him, had wanted to be informed should he be up for sale, but she’d been impossible to get a hold of.  Although the girls had been informed he was up for sale, I didn’t expect him to leave anytime soon.

On Monday I got a text from Emma, his owner.  “His old owner wants him back!”  Good news indeed, but sad news also.  I texted Emma that he was scheduled for horse camping in the end of July. It would create enormous problems for me if her were to leave before then.  I sent a couple more texts about how sad the girls were that he was up for sale and how much they loved him. I also called and left a message asking if we could discuss his departure out of consideration for the tender hearts that loved him. No response.

On Tuesday I got a text from Emma’s mother, Fiona. “What’s this about Jackson being in a summer camp? I’m making arrangements for Jackson’s transport (to Tennessee). His old owner is eager to have him back as soon as possible. I’m seeing if I can move him next week.”  When explained, Fiona understood about horse camping and agreed to let him stay through July.  It would have been better for the girls to have had him stay through the summer.

Unlike the other horses, Jackson never became anyone’s favorite horse.  Almost all the riders become passionate about one horse over the rest.  He also wasn’t fast enough and fun enough to be interesting to the skilled riders, leaving him primarily the tasking of schlepping beginners. No horse should have that fate indefinitely.  He was put up for sale at my suggestion.  Of course, now that leaving was on the horizon, the girls all began to pour attention and affection on him, the skilled ones taking him out for rides.  At the same time, Kate, who weighs in at 90lb, figured out that she could ride double on Jackson with a bareback pad with riders like Jaya, 40lb, and Arya, 34lb.  Jaya in particular benefitted from this arrangement.  Riding double with a skilled rider is the fastest way to learn how to ride. Jaya’s riding ability improved exponentially.  It was with a sinking heart that I watched, just weeks before, Jackson become Jaya’s most beloved horse.

Now we had to tell her.  But Kate, ever ready to save the day, said, “Remember the beach trip?” I had forgotten.  Kate has been an enormous help this summer.  Actually, more than enormous.  It’s not too far fetched to say that she is single handedly saving kids love horses.  Because of the less than ideal riding environment we have to work with, it’s very tricky and exhausting to work with a new rider under the age of ten.  I decided to focus on starting riders eleven and up.  Problem is, a kid who loves horses, but who’s parents wait until they are eleven or twelve to get them lessons is a kid who’s parents don’t support horses.  When the parents don’t support or value horses, it makes my life very difficult and has come near to putting an end to KLH.  Also, KLH depends on a group of well trained older riders who can aid and assist with the next generation.  I’ve “raised” four crops of riders – takes about three years per crop. The first three crops all helped out with the next group.  Several of them are still helping out.  This forth crop hasn’t been fully trained, because they started later, are too busy or aren’t inclined to help with younger riders. This break in continuity has created a rift in the continuum of horse education that is almost insurmountable.  Not only do I not have parental or older rider support, both of which have been abundant in previous sets, but, having realized that the best riders and parents come from the kids that start between the ages of six and eight, I’ve taken on the heaviest load of young riders ever. Kate has been doing half of the work with every single lesson this summer.  I felt she deserved more than just money.  She asked for a trip to the beach.  A trip to the beach with Jaya and Jackson.

“Fiona, would it be OK if Jackson stayed on just a couple more days?  I’ve promised a beach trip with him and the earliest it can be schedule would be August 2nd.”  Fiona thought that Jackson should be reunited with his old owner as soon as possible.  She said she was thinking of the woman’s feelings, but I suspect she wants the whole business done and over with.  I pleaded Jaya and Kate’s case.  I told her I needed to know what they plan to do as I pay board tomorrow and would have to give notice to the Jensen’s (owners of Campo barn).  The last I heard from Fiona was, “what day does Jackson come back from the horse camping?”

I’m not sure that Jackson leaving sunk in right away for Jaya. But by the time I’d finished going back and forth with Fiona, I’d figured out what was eating at Jaya:  Arya was getting a turn at riding double with Kate.  Jaya know’s she gets the lion’s share of time riding double and she knows she has to share.  Even still, the thought of not getting to ride with Kate was almost too much to bear.  Jaya loves Kate as much as she loves horses, which is pretty much as much as it is possible for Jaya to love anything.  Jaya talks to Kate.  She talks non-stop to Kate. She has a need to talk to Kate.

The final arrangement of riders was Jaya, who, despite her reticence and youth, can actually lead, on Velvet, Sophie on Chavali, Kayla on her beloved Cowgirl and Kate and Arya on Jackson.  Kate said, “Why don’t we just go to Clark’s Field and play around and ride back and forth in different combos.”  And that’s exactly what we did.

First Kate rode with Sophie and Kayla.  Then Jaya got a turn riding double with Kate.  Then I told them Jackson needed a break.  Kate and Kayla got on Velvet and Chavali and blasted across the whole field and back. Arya announced that she didn’t want to ride at all, but wanted to have a foot race in order to “get some energy out.”  Sophie did not enjoy the foot race at all and suggested they play games instead.  Arya suggested a contest. I didn’t think this was such a good idea. Sophie said, “I don’t want to play tag because that would involve running.” I said they could play hide and seek in the tall grass, except there might be snakes.  At this point, Kayla and Kate came charging back, with Chavali trying to overtake Velvet.  Kate said, “Can I take just Chavali across the field?  She seems to really want to run” and off she went.  I looked at Arya, Jaya and Sophie and said, “You know, there’s a perfect fort tree about half way across the field.”  They all turned on a dime and headed out, marching off like the three musketeers.  They got the bush tree confused with the fort tree and had turned back in disappointment at the same time Kate made it back with a sweating and well run Chavali.  Kate, still on Chavali, was quickly dispatched to escort them to the proper tree.  Kayla, on Cowgirl, and me, leading Jackson and Velvet, slowly followed.  The fort tree was a huge hit with all three youngin’s scrambling around in the branches with Kate coaching from the ground while Chavali grazed.  It was only then that I looked at my watch.  “Oh dear!  It’s time to go.”  If looks could kill, I would have been slayed three times.

The fun of riding with Kate is that she rides Jackson in the rear, holds him back at strategic spots, then canters to catch up.  The girls will hold their arms out to the sides like wings.  It was a brisk, fun ride back to the barns.

Jaya, Arya and Sophie, all of whom were about forty-five minutes short of bedtime, got picked up at Quail.  While I stayed with Jackson for a bit at Quail, Kate and Kayla rode Chavali and Velvet back to Campo.  When I joined them at Campo, Kate said, “Kayla and I had a race to see who could put all their tack away fastest!”  Whenever they are together, this is what they do and they enjoy it enormously. “Who won?”  “Me”, said Kate. Kayla is unusually deliberate in everything she does so this did not surprise me. “Can we feed the barn?”  Since the Jensens are out of town, the task of feeding fell to us this evening. Off they raced, down the hill with the wheel barrow full of hay, to return very shortly with Kayla in the wheel barrow, laughing hysterically, and Kate pushing.

As I was finishing the last details of clean up, Kate settled down on a stool to check her phone.  I said, “Kate, pick up is at Quail.  We aren’t staying here.”  “We aren’t?” By this time she was a little tired, but not that tired. Seconds later, her eyebrows popped up, she sat up straight and said, “That means Kayla and I can finally race!!!”  Kayla and Kate have been wanting to race from Campo to Quail for months. They’ve tried three times, only to be foiled by parental pick up plans each time.

They piled their phones, whips, chaps, water bottles and helmets into and on my bike and were off like a shot.  By the time I arrived at Quail, they were sitting on the floor of the tack shack chattering away.  Kate’s mom was already there.  Kate was not ready to leave.  I had to wait until Kayla’s mom showed up so Rebecca, Kate’s mom stayed to chat.  Kate and Kayla were now playing a game that involved throwing a water bottle back and forth at each other it and, from what I could tell, were enjoying it immensely.  Rebecca said, “I wish more parents would come and follow you and the girls around every now and then so they could see what goes on. They’d have so much more appreciation for what you do and how much good it does for the kids.”  I suspect she’s right. Though if Jaya, Sophie or Arya’s parents had tagged along, the girls would not have played. They don’t always play like that and they almost never play as much as they did today, though it was clear that all three had a crying need for it.  I do know for sure that Arya, Sophie and Jaya’s parents got tired, happy children tonight.

Of all the riders, it is Kayla who has been most deeply affected by the defection of the older girls. After tonight, Kayla’s faith was renewed.  She knows that as long as she’s with Kate, she will be OK.  Riding to Clark’s Field, Kate said, “Who’s going to ride Dancer in the Halloween Horse Show?”  I said, “you are.”  Kate is eager to do some showing and the Westwind Halloween show is one of only two that are available without extraordinary effort.  I thought she meant ride in the show, but she was referring to the costume class.  “I thought Meera was going to ride him as a bumble bee.”  Meera has THE best costuming ideas, but zip on follow through.  “No, Kate, you are riding him.”  Kate said, “You know how Rachel thought that Stoney should go as a royal horse and have his rider dress as a princess?”  I pretended to remember that. “Well, I’d like to ride Dancer in a knight’s costume.”  Whether she manages to come up with a knights costume for the Halloween show or not, we will see.  But she sure does seem to be riding to the rescue of KLH this summer.  I know it won’t last.  School will start and the younger riders and I will have to make our own fun for ourselves.  They should all be far enough along by that time for that to be possible, and although they won’t like it, it has to happen sometime and they all do eventually have to stand on their own.  But we ought to have another good month or so left and we will enjoy every minute of it.

Kate and Kayla, I expect, will be riding together for a very long time to come.

Queen of the Jumps

“Where are you?  Are you close to the arena?”  It was Shaliza, Arya’s mother calling. ” I got the time of the choir concert wrong and I need to pick Arya up now.” Arya was not going to like this.  Her pick up was already going to be half an hour earlier than usual.  Saturday morning is young rider morning, or munchkin morning, made possible by reliable assistance from Kate. She held Cowgirl’s lead rope while coaching Arya through picking hooves; she pushes the wheel barrow at Campo while Arya, Jaya and Sophie scoop the poop and then pushes the girls, giving each a turn, in the wheel barrow after dumping it; she keeps the girls running back and forth fetching tack.  Today she even insisted on coaching Sophie, who is seven, through putting on Velvet’s bridle.  Without Kate, I think these girls would never learn to ride.

We now have a bareback pad for Cowgirl.  Cowgirl hates the saddle.  The kids hate Cowgirl’s saddle.  The little kids can stay on Cowgirl at a walk with the bareback pad, which is sticky, and learn better riding position that way.  We left Stoney at Quail for Rachel and walked Cowgirl to Campo with Sophie riding and Kate leading. I followed with Dante and fell behind. By the time I got to Campo, they had Cowgirl tied and had grabbed muck forks, ready for the next task.  But before they headed into the paddock to clean, Kate turned to me and said,”Sophie cantered on CG!  She liked it and wants to canter again!”  As Sophie is not the most ambitious rider, I was astonished; even more astonished at the fact that Kate can clearly keep up on foot with Cowgirl’s canter going up hill.

I got the call from Shaliza while walking up La Paloma.  Rachel and Lainey kept riding up La Paloma in order to have a fun canter over the Via Arline pathway while Kate, who leading Sophie on Cowgirl, Jaya (on Velvet) and me, leading Arya on Dancer turned right to take the shorter, but much steeper, route up Westwind Way, at the top of which, we met Shaliza, coming to pick up Arya.  Arya’s loss was Sophie’s gain as Kate, now mounted on Dancer, was able to pony Sophie on CG and canter for several long stretches, Sophie riding Cowgirl like a pro, me with my heart in my throat. When we got to the arena Kate told me that Sophie wanted to show her mom how she cantered, but didn’t have it in me to tempt fate and told Sophie we were going to have to wait for another day.  When we got to the arena I also got a text from Shaliza. Arya had cried all the way home.

It was just as well that Arya and Sophie had to leave early because Jana rode over from Page Mill Pastures on Binki to school Rachel and Kate.  We put CG and Chavi in the round pen.  While Rachel and Kate got their lesson, Jaya rode around on Velvet and Lainey and I sat in lawn chairs.  We talked about PE and music and summer plans and Lainey ate half of my lunch.  Kayla also showed up around this time.  She was not so keen on watching and chatting and started to put Cowgirl through her paces.

Jaya got picked up at one. Kayla was eager to put out trot poles, but I asked her to wait a bit until the lesson was done. By one thirty, both Kate and Rachel had that blank look that comes with being unable to take in any more information. It was time for Jana to go anyways.  Kayla and I set up the trot poles for CG, which she cantered and jumped over. Kate got on Chavali bareback and started zipping around. Rachel flopped down in a chair next to Lainey, said she felt “totally zen”, then proceeded to eat the other half of my lunch.  Lainey, who had been alternating between sitting and talking, hugging the horses and flitting about, decided that the best place of all was Rachel’s lap.  About this time, Sammy, Kimmy and Lola showed up. I see them every year at the arena.  Their brothers play baseball. They gravitate to the horses like bees to honey, usually led by Sammy, who has vibrant, auburn hair. She walks towards them with her hand slightly outstretched, eyes full of longing.  She looks like she is being pulled forward by a magnet.  Kimmy was wearing a sequin horse T-shirt.  Sammy was wearing a spray paint horse T-shirt.  I ask them the same question I ask every year, “Have you started riding lessons yet?”  Sammy says, “No, but my mom says I can go horse back riding for my birthday.”  Lola says her mom says she has too many activities, like soccer and basketball and gymnastics.  I said, “but do you like soccer and basketball and gymnastics better than horses or do you like horses more?”  She likes horses more. The girls will be nine next month. I have yet to meet the parents.

Kate started having problems with Chavali.  I told her that even riding bareback, when she was trotting she needed to keep her hands still relative to the horse rather than letter them bounce around.  Chavali feels a constant tapping on the bridle when she does that.  Kate looked at me like she’d die if she had to do that. I said, “Kate, you’re tired.”  She said, “No I’m not!”  I said, “Here, why don’t you get off the horse and eat this last chicken leg.” She said OK.  Next thing you know, it was Kate who was sitting in Rachel’s lap, which some how ended up with Rachel and Kate on the ground, Rachel supporting Kate, who then took a short nap.  Lainey spent that time lolling about on Chavali. Kayla, not having had a lesson with Jana, still had tons of energy  and was zipping around the arena on Velvet.

Eventually Kate revived enough to take up her next task: schooling Dancer. After drilling him in pushing off out of his hind end, she set up a wide, low jump.  While Kate took Dancer over the wide jump, Kayla worked CG over a smaller jump.  Rachel stood in the middle of the two jumps, supported by one of the jump blocks, driving whip in hand, making sure that Dancer kept to his side and CG to hers.  She said, “I feel like one of those switching things for trains.” Then added. “I’m the queen of the jumps!”  Indeed.

It was the usually prying of teeth to get them going in the arena, followed by the usual prying of teeth to get them to leave the arena, with me frantically texting all the parents saying we will be fifteen minutes later than expected, which was already half an hour to an hour later than I thought we’d go in the first place.

Because of Dante’s injured hip, I rode with the girls, on Velvet, behind Kayla, riding CG with the bareback pad.  After three falls, and with CG not having the easiest gait to ride, Kayla has been erring on the side of caution with speed. But today, off the went at a canter, with nary a word from Kayla. And so it continued all the way to and through Clark’s field. In the course of riding, the girls always get to a point where, almost by magic, they can stay on the horses no matter what.  Today, with Kayla, we have started to turn that corner.


Riding home, Rachel told me that her parents asked her what she felt was her next step with horses.  This was a puzzlement to me.  Her parents are reasonably supportive, but they are also the ones who consider horses a “luxury”, an expendable activity.  Nor are they willing to drive her even as far as Woodside.  Rachel’s “next step” will involve being in high school.  It is too soon to know how much time she will have for horses and even if she did have the time, what her parents don’t know is that any serious next step involves driving to Santa Rose or Elk Grove or Paso Robles.  Whatever happens, I will see to it she keeps getting to ride Stoney.  She’ll have a good, long summer of riding as much as she wants, but it’s clear her reign as queen will be coming to an end.  Kayla, however, is ready and waiting to take her place.










Happy Spring!

Three pads and one girth, I think, have tumbled out of the car and on to the pavement.  There is a second girth, but I don’t know if it is on the ground or in the car.  The girths are black and it’s dark. I’ve brought everything home to be washed, but it was late and I was having a hard time keeping everything together. Kate got a braiding book for her birthday.  She and Sara barely got started in on the braiding last Saturday before they had to leave. I promised Kate she’d have time the next Saturday.  Most of the time, the girls will braid half a mane and then go on to something else or the braids become fatter and fatter and are almost certainly not rolled up.  Or the braid, usually in the tail, starts out perfect, then moves sideways and stops before the dock as the braider maybe decides they’d rather not take any more time out of their riding.  Not Kate’s braids.  Her braiding book gives instructions on how to lace a needle and thread through the braid to pull it up and tie it into a proper little bun.  Sure enough, there’s Kate, needle in hand, eyes focused on her work like a cat on a mouse while controlling her hands and the braid with so much care and precision that Chavali hardly even notices the art being created out of her mane.

“You ready to go yet?” I was about five minutes early picking up Kate.  She answered the door in her tie dye stockings.  Bouncing on her toes, she says, “Can I grab my jacket?” It’s 9:15 and we need to be the barn by 9:30 to meet Sophie, Jaya and Arya, ages seven, eight and seven.  Arya has just recently asked to be able to ride on Saturday again because she misses her friends.  Not only is Kate’s assistance invaluable, Sophie is particularly attached to her and would probably sit like a lump and glare at me should Kate not show up.

Sophie is the first to show up.  She and Kate immediately set to work grooming Stoney.  Arya bounds up moments later.  She has a birthday party to go to later in the day, which, fortunately, doesn’t conflict with riding, but if it had, she informed her mother that she’d chose to ride rather than go to the party.  Stoney is in the middle of his month long spring shed.  A carpet of white hair now covered the ground.

Arya’s mother told me she seems to be allergic to something at the barn.  Seeing as one in five people are allergic to the hay, when we got to Campo, I told the girls they would no longer get to play on the hay bales.  Sophie said, “that’s OK! We can run up and down that hill!”  Mostly they walked up the hill (the short driveway down to the barn) and ran down it while Kate and I sat and looked on in awe at their energy.  Kate said, “The next generation of gallops girls for sure.”

Very soon it was Arya and Sophie being the baby horses and Jaya being the owner, then the Sophie horse got stuck on a stump (the mounting block), though what stuck her there was Arya sitting on top of her, then the Arya horse had to be tied up in the cross ties – lead ropes clipped on to her collar, and so on.  Unfortunately for the play, Sophie had a noon pick up time and if we didn’t get started with the tacking and grooming, we wouldn’t make it.  I told them to start grooming Chavali, but only two of them and the third one should groom Jackson.  This they did not like and ignored, Sophie and Arya on one side, silliness on full blast, and Jaya on the other.  Not quite ready to put the damper on their high spirits by insisting they focus on their work, I let them be and set to work picking Dancer’s hooves, but only for a moment.  Gallop Girls part 2, had been having just a little too much fun and failed to notice Chavali sticking her nose towards Stoney and nickering, which, as most experienced horse girls know, is usually followed by some flirtatious waving of her hooves.  It was Jaya who got kicked; in the thigh.  Being Chavali, she didn’t even end up with a bruise.  The now sober girls were most cooperative with everything else that was needed to get done.

Cowgirl is still recovering from he hoof wound, she’s not sound enough to be ridden, but sound enough that she can and must get out.  She was with us at Campo.  Kate rode Dancer and ponied Chavali who was being ridden by Arya.  Jaya, the most competent of the younger riders, rode Jackson, while I led Stoney, who was ridden by Sophie, and also led CG and Dante.  Cowgirl got loose and got a head of me as we left the Jensen’s.  Then she headed off to Gardner Bullis school when the girls turned left to head to Orchard Hill.   When I got CG back, Dante got away, then Stoney lurched off for some grass, and so it went until we were half way up La Paloma and met Shana on Velvet coming the other direction, returning from her ride.  At this point, Dante was cowering in fear from Stoney who was baring his teeth at him and CG’s lead rope was just about to get stuck under the fender of my bike.  Shana very graciously agreed to take CG back to Campo with her where she would spend the rest of the day hanging out with Velvet, much to everyone’s relief, especially mine.

Sara and Rachel joined us at the arena about the same time Jaya, Sohpie and Arya all left.  Rachel will come out to the horses for any occasion, but Saturday was a special occasion for Sara and Kate.  Jana was coming at two.  “Would any of your girls be interested in a show?”  “Did you know there’s a good schooling show at Garrod’s  next month? Are you taking anyone?” “I’ve got some extra hunt coats for horse shows.  Are your girls going to be needing them?”  For years Jana has been pestering me with these questions.  When she heard that Kate and Sara were interested in showing, she was more than delighted to volunteer her Saturday afternoon to coach them for a couple hours.  Within fifteen minutes they were practicing trot to canter transitions and quarter circles and four square halts and they kept at it for an hour and a half.

Kayla also usually rides on Saturdays.  She had a birthday party earlier in the day and couldn’t show up until 3:30 and thanks heavens she could because Rachel had to leave, making us one rider short from being able to ride home through Clark’s Field. Kayla apologized for her wet hair; from swimming; as I snapped the chin strap closed on her helmet.  Thinking she’d be tired, I asked her if she was OK not getting picked up until 5.  She put her hands on her hips, wrinkled up her nose and gave me an incredulous, “Are you kidding me?!” look.  I said, “So I should tell your grandma to pick you up at six?”  She nodded a vigorous assent, got on Jackson and trotted off to join the rest of the riders.

Kayla, Sara, Kate and I left Rachel putting away jump poles and blocks, me leading Jackson and them riding, and headed off to Clark’s Field around 4.  We had to make it a straight shot through the field as we were running a bit late.  Sara had slept in till 11, but she was still tired and we had arranged for her to be picked up at 5.

By the time we got back to the barns, Kate’s legs were so sore she could barely stand.  She’d been going without a break for eight hours by that time. She collapsed in a heap as Kayla and I got the to horses “lunches” ready and put away tack and mucked.  But she roused herself in a short time and started in on what she’d been wanting to do all day: Braiding.  She braided while be fed.  She braided while we mucked.  She braided while I sprayed weeds with horticultural vinegar.  She braided while I took Kayla over to Quail to get picked up and also to feed Stoney and CG.  She was still braiding at 7pm, when I returned to Campo.  And she was only two thirds done.  Now it was my turn to barely be able to stand.  As I swayed a little, trying to remain upright, I pleaded with her to go.  I didn’t have to pry her fingers off Chavali’s mane, but almost.  There’s about a quarter of the mane left unbraided.  With any luck, Kate won’t have much homework tomorrow and she will be able to finish up after we are done with our ride.  That or she’s going to braid while she rides.  If I know her, not finishing will not be an option.

The Square Nail

“Deb! Cowgirl is limping! I mean really badly!”  Rachel, who rides Stoney, had ridden ahead to Quail, while I finished up at Campo.  My first thought was that CG was feeling so good after her chiropractic adjustment that she’d over done it and had injured her stifle or fetlock joint.  Rachel, implacable in almost every situation, comes to pieces when horses are injured and often exaggerates the severity. But CG was limping really badly; barely putting pressure even on the tip of the toe.  I didn’t even have to lift her hoof to see the floating 1/2″ square, metal plate, held in place by an exceptionally sharp, square sided nail, stuck firmly into the tip of her frog.

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Is she going to be OK?!!! I mean, ack! You hold this!”  Rachel shoves CG’s lead rope into my hand.  Then, voice quavering, says, “Is that blood?!”  A veterinarian she is not.

The nail had not penetrated very far, only 1/8″ or maybe 3/16th.  There was a few drops of blood, but that wasn’t what Rachel was referring to.  I had immediately splashed iodine on the sole of the hoof, leaving blood stain looking puddles on the stall mat.  What I didn’t do was soak the hoof in epsom salt and poultice it with Icthymol.  I now know that’s what you should do, but I had promised Rachel and Lainey a ride home.  Both girls had homework looming.  Riding already makes getting the homework done a bit of a squeeze and neither of them had welcomed the delay.

The next day, Cowgirl was one very lame pony.  The first words out of Kristin’s mouth were, “I hate puncture wounds. They are the worst!” Not an encouraging statement from a veterinarian.  The hoof is not made to be punctured.  When it is punctured, it doesn’t really know how to heal.  If infection sets in, it fairly often doesn’t respond to antibiotics.  Extreme surgical methods can be used, but not on a 27 year old pony.  Cowgirl got immune booster, injected bananime and powerful antibiotics.

Six days of poultice and soaks later, she was right as rain.  She went out for the Clark’s field loop on Thursday.  I watched her carefully on Friday.  I couldn’t tell if she was or if she wasn’t favoring the punctured hoof.  I asked Jan, my landlady at Quail.  She didn’t think so.

The Saturday morning horse girl mob scene got off to a rip roaring start and it was back to business as usual, heading to the arena with plans to work Cowgirl in the harness in preparation to start in with the cart.

Saturday’s are now divided into two parts with mornings dedicated to “the youngins” and afternoons to the older crew.  The two overlap, which creates a bit of tension as the older girls chafe at the restrictions necessitated by the presence of inexperienced riders and the young ones try to hang on for every minute they can squeeze out of me, resenting the fact that they have to go and the older girls get to stay.  Thinking I’d give the older girls a chance to ride undisturbed in the arena, the three young riders and I set to giving Jackson a bath.  With my attention firmly fixed on keeping track of three, small, quick moving bodies and one marginally co-operative horse, I didn’t notice when Cowgirl started limping, nor did anyone else.  With her string halt, it’s hard to tell if she is actually lame.  But limp she did.  I was scheduled to board a plane to San Diego late that afternoon and only managed to wrap her hoof and ask Rachel to dose her with more banamine before I rushed off.  The last thing I did before I left was take a look at her jugular vein. It was pounding.

I returned from San Diego 10pm Sunday and drove straight to the barn.  Cowgirl was still limping; more banamine and a call to the vet the next morning.  Kristin said, “Puncture wounds can do that.  You think they are done, then whaboom, they erupt.”  She asked if I could feed a digital pulse.  I thought I felt a pounding pulse in the pastern, a sure sign of infection.  It must have been my own pulse pounding in my fingers because  Kristin didn’t find a pounding pulse. She injected her with more immune booster and antibiotic and told us to soak and poultice, which we did.  Not knowing if it was better to leave the bandage off or on, on Tuesday I left it off to see what would happen. I showed up Wednesday to find a pony who could hardly walk.   Something had gotten much worse. Savannah had met me at Quail and knew something was very wrong.  She walked Stoney over to Campo to join Jackie and Sara, who had already shown up and I drove.  I called the vet and got permission to max out her banamine doses, did my best to put on a brave face and told the girls I wanted to muck the paddock at Campo, although Savannah wasn’t fooled.  She probably guessed I didn’t want them to see me cry.

When the injury first occurred, I warned the parents that there was a small possibility that Cowgirl might not survive this.  Kayla insisted on coming to see Cowgirl and she cried and cried.  So did Allison and Kate.  Arya had her mom text sad face icons with tears to me.  None of them knew that the injury had returned.

Rachel is a hugger.  So is Savannah.  So is Sara. Getting hugged is part of my job.  I’m guessing Savannah told Sara about Cowgirl.  As I maneuvered the wheel barrow back out of the paddock and through the gate, Sara was there, a look of concern on her face, her arms outstretched.  I cried and cried.  Savannah joined the hug and I cried more.

With just Savannah, Jackie and Sara riding, none of them needing much in the way of supervision, I was able to follow at a distance on my bike and cry even more.  By the time we had returned to the barns for the evening, I had managed to regain some semblance of composure.  Jan met us as we returned with Stoney to Quail.  She rested her arms on the rail that borders the aisle and talked to us as we untacked and fed.  “Have you ever had a puncture wound?  You know how painful it is?  You know how it can just hurt for weeks and weeks?”  I didn’t, actually.  “What I’m thinking is we need to put some kind of stiff pad under her foot.  Some cardboard, or plastic.  When I injured my foot, I had to have it in a boot for weeks.  I couldn’t walk otherwise.  I think that’s what Cowgirl needs.”  It was certainly worth a try.

Twenty five years ago, I taught art classes.  With the exception of pens and paint, all the materials were salvaged; mountains of it.  With every spring cleaning, piles of supplies have been passed on to grateful parents and preschools, with only one, large square of cork board remaining, a piece of material that never found it’s purpose until yesterday morning when Jan and I sat down on the stall mats and fashioned a plate to affix to the sole of her injured hoof.  “Why don’t you make a cut out where her frog goes? That should make a nice, raised platform.  Here, if you place the template like this, you’ll use your material more efficiently.”  Jan has a masters in mechanical engineering.  She also worked as a vet tech during high school.  She said, “They didn’t use to have ready made splints or boots.  We had to figure out how to manufacture what we needed to help the animal heal properly.  Never had any experience with horses, but seems to me it’s kind of the same problem.”  I fitted the plaque neatly to Cowgirl’s hoof using duct tape.   Jan took the lead rope and said, “why don’t we try this out?”  She lead Cowgirl out on to the driveway.  Sure enough, the pony was walking.

Then next stop was to pick up more banamine from the vet.  On hearing of our success, Kristin said, “That makes sense.  If the puncture had been something round, like a screw or an ordinary nail, you wouldn’t be having this problem.  You know how when you get a crack in a windshield and they fix it by drilling a round hole?  That’s because the pressure from sharp corners focusses the stress and it spreads outwards.  That explains why they heat sensor picked up injury towards the outer edges of the hoof, not near the site of the puncture.”  The nail was imbedded in the hoof for some time before we found it, no doubt being jerked back and forth as Cowgirl limped about.  Probably the only square nail in all of Los Altos Hills and it ends up in her hoof.

Today I found out about a type of boot with an orthotic gel insert made specifically for horses recovering from laminitis or puncture wounds.  It will be a week before we get it, so cork board and cardboard will have to do until then. Cowgirl is not out of the woods, but she’s not near the grave either and I am hopeful. In our culture, we are fed a daily dose of the idolization of individualism and self absorption and egotism.  But in real life, it’s team work that gets the win.