Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Horsing Around

Firstly, the non-news:  I'm trying to get my weekly mileage over double digits, but it's not been working out for me.  I ran 6 miles a week ago and my back protested for 3 days.  I'm a hostage in my own body.

Cole isn't faring any better.  His surgically altered back leg is fully rehabilitated.  Dummy's recently injured front leg isn't as cooperative.  He has a support bandage he's supposed to wear all the time.



This is what happens when he's been without it:


The other cripple at the farm opted to fare worse before showing signs of improvement.  Axel sprained his deep flexor tendon.

Exhibit A

This would be best resolved with icing, bandaging and stall rest.  But, there's no room in the barn.  Spring has sprung late at the farm this year:  the nanny goats have begun kidding.



Precious baby goatlets don't mix well with a neurotic horse.


Goatlet:  n. a Smitty-ism, should be used instead of 'kid', suits them better.

Therefore, the best I can do, is to ice Axel daily, give him Bute (anti-inflammatory), wrap the leg for the first two weeks and hope for the best.  
Oh, and turn my backyard into a convalescence stall.


Axel mowed the lawn all day while I worked on my horse trailer a couple Saturdays ago.

His lameness has altered his gait, causing him to strike the back of his front foot with his back foot.  Prolonged bruising of the hoof bulb caused a coronary band abscess this week.  Bad blowout:

More soaking required, this time with warm a Epsom salt solution.  Axel can be a temperamental diva.  Twice now, he's arbitrarily decided that the soaking procedure was life threatening and should be ceased by rearing up and flying off backwards.  Princess almost ended up on the hood of my car the last time.  Now, he gets lassoed to a tree with no more than 2"  play in the rope.  Bad patient...

versus...

Good patient:

Sweet Bella.  She has a chronic skin condition that required clipping, scab cleansing, all sorts of un-pleasantries, yet she rarely fusses.  
My draft horses have spoiled me, so I try to return the favor.  I bought a watermelon to share with the chickens.  The horses attempted to steal the half I was carrying out to the chicken coop.


The hens were mildly offended by the big bite marks taken out of their prize.
Instead of eating the other half, I served it up to Angus.  You've never lived unless you've watched 2000 lbs slobber over watermelon.