Thursday, September 1, 2022

On Moral Judgements and Horses -April 5th

 


Sometimes I fall into the trap of labelling things as if they were clearly black and white, when they are more like my horse in April: grey and muddy. 


One moral judgement I slip into - and I think I'm not alone in this - is labeling days as "good" or "bad". Avalon is spooky - bad day. Avalon is calm - good day. Groundwork - meh day. Riding - good day. 

Today, when I caught Avalon, I was expecting her to be holding a lot of energy in her body. It is spring after all and windy. To my surprise, she walked most of the way to the barn calmly. Right as we were nearing the entrance of the barn, she became anxious. A friend starting calling back and forth with her. Suddenly, I found myself flying my mare like a kite. Rearing, encroaching in my space, you name it. 

Out loud I said: "Neither of us are emotionally regulated right now." It was true. Avalon was spooky and distracted. My adrenal glands were pumping fight-or-flight juice. Both of us were operating on the sympathetic nervous system. At this point, there was a part of my brain that started whispering, this is going to be a bad day.


The physical situation we were in was dangerous. The ground was a few inches deep in mud and the alley was narrow. I opted for damage control until we were in the barn and then flew my kite right over to the arena. In the arena, the doors were slamming in the wind and my kite was now cantering around me in tiny circles. I don't know if I thought or said to myself, "I don't know what to do right now." I find that very interesting looking back because I did know what to do, and I did it, and it worked. I think that idea demonstrates how incapable humans (and horses) are when we are working from the sympathetic nervous response. Our bodies become overwhelmed and controlled by our feelings. 


I started by allowing moving us over to some ground poles set up so that you could circle a horse over them and there would be one pole on either side of the circle. This gave Avalon something to think about besides RUN. While she cantered around me dramatically jumping the ground poles, I took responsibility for my own emotions. Breathing, blowing out like a horse does, consciously relaxing my muscles, I returned to the parasympathetic nervous system. Once my heart had stopped pounding, I took the next step to encourage Avalon to join me. I asked her for transitions, changes in direction, and eventually to stand still for a few moments. I don't know how long it took us, but we were both able to calm down completely. I had Avalon in the barn for a couple of hours as I groomed her for her spring vet visit and she didn't slip back into fight or flight the entire time. She was able to walk calmly and stand quietly for all the needles. 

This got me thinking about "good" and "bad" days. What is better: a day where my horse is completely calm and not challenged in any way or a day when both of us are challenged by our emotions and both are able to self-regulate and return to a calm mindful way of thinking?

I dare to say it was a good day. 

Gambey Anniversary Post -Repost

Ladies and Gents, it's colic season. Technically, it's always colic season, especially if you have a horse with an exceptionally sensitive gut. But every year, in western Wisconsin, we get chilly, fall weather complete with windblown thunderstorms only to have them replaced with 90 degree humid days. Two years ago today the vet said it was affecting a lot of horses in the area.

**Contrary to the cheery title and opening paragraph, this a post about losing my first horse in September 2017. Some of the descriptions of what he went through are graphic and may difficult to read. But horses die, and there are a few things I think everyone should have on their minds. So please skip to the bottom paragraph if you don't want to read the whole post. <3 **




I remember a lot of things from September 25th, 2017. I remember bringing one of my best friends out to see Gambler. I remember that I was going to canter for the first time that day, but I didn't because I was worried about the heat causing colic. Turns out that worrying does not equal prevention. 

I remember getting the call that Gamby was down and rolling, and very rudely telling my mother she was overreacting. Because who wants to believe that kind of news? 

I remember the look on his face - it was like he wasn't even there.

I remember trying to lead him, but I had just gone on a multiple-hour-long hike and my whole legs ached and popped. I couldn't lead him fast enough to keep him from going down so I had to stand and watch my mom lead him for hours and hours and hours. I remember feeling helpless. I felt like a bad owner. I remember the blisters we both had the next day.

I remember that I didn't cry until 2am when the vet said something hopeful in a tone of voice that told me there was no hope. 

I remember learning that horses can indeed throw up - but it's something you never want to experience. I remember the smell of mineral oil and horse stomach juice on the sleeves of my sweatshirt. I remember waiting as long as I could to wash that sweatshirt because as bad as it smelled - it smelled like him.

I remember feeling so small, helpless, and broken. 

I remember finally letting him go. Watching his white eyelashes blink shut. Taking pictures and videos so I would never forget.




Losing Gambler is the worst thing I have experienced in my life so far. It completely changed me as a person - for the better. And if he had never gone, I would never have the amazing relationship I have now with Avalon. But the pitiless reality that horses die, suddenly, is something every horse owner needs to be prepared for. 

  • Are you willing to pay for expensive surgery for colic, a broken bone, or another life-threatening illness? If so, make sure you have that money on hand.
  • Do you want mementos of your horse? If so, make them now. Horsehair jewelry, hoof or chestnut clippings, and of course photos are all options. 
  • When your horse dies, cut off a lot of his tail. Don't go for the mane like I did unpreparedly. You can do much more with a tail portion twice the diameter of a pencil - more is better.