In last month’s column, I wrote about how my horse had been trying to tell me something, and how I’d failed, initially, to notice. I also wrote about the importance of not being so focused on the task that you overlook your horse’s attempts to communicate. I surmised that Bit had been trying to tell me he was bored, and I acted accordingly, by changing up the task we were working on. Problem solved, I thought, until Bit continued the behavior the next time I rode him. After four separate instances in which Bit stopped walking and refused to move another inch, though, it became clear to me that the issue wasn’t boredom, it was something else entirely.
The fact that Bit suffers from EPM is never far from my mind. His symptoms – tripping, being unsteady on his feet – predictably come to the fore with the change of every season. With the change in weather from one season to the next, Bit’s symptoms flare noticeably. I mention them to barn owner Wendy, she adjusts the level of his herbal supplements, and in a matter of a week or so, the symptoms abate. I should have been mindful of that when I took Bit for a walk in the back pasture, the other day.
As I led him by his lead rope, I leapt across a small culvert while at the same time coaxing Bit across a small wood bridge that the hubs had made for this very purpose. Bit has walked across that bridge any number of times, in the past year or so, but on this particular day, he lost his footing and fell over onto his side in the culvert. He immediately picked himself up off the ground, and I saw no evidence of injury as I walked him back to the stable. But how could I know for certain?
A week later – yesterday, actually – I saddled him up and walked him into the arena. I thought perhaps that we would work with the poles again, but when I walked Bit over to the mounting block, he stopped short, unwilling to get close enough for me to mount. Nothing I said or did could make him budge, and it was then that I realized that this was a matter of more than just ordinary obstinance; something was truly wrong.
Puzzled, I sat down on the mounting block to think about things. As I sat there, Bit came close and rested his chin on my shoulder. He’d never done that before. Now I was really worried! I decided to change out the saddle for a bareback pad. I’ve often wondered whether the saddle from the communal tack room that more than a few people used was even comfortable for my 16+ hands horse. The hubs had bought me a new saddle pad for Christmas, a couple of years ago, but that wouldn’t necessarily make up for an ill-fitting saddle. Bit allowed me to put the bareback pad on without fussing, and it was at this point that he was willing to step up to the mounting block and let me climb onto his back.
I kept the session short. We walked around the poles for a few minutes, and then, still on his back, I directed him to each pole in turn. I picked them all up, one by one, and directed Bit to walk over to the storage area, where I lined them up against the wall. Once we’d put them all back where they belonged, we walked a couple of laps around the arena, and then I called it a day.
I went off in search of Wendy, intent on discussing the issue at hand, but the only person on site just then was her daughter Connie. It helps to know that Connie earned a degree in equine science. She was raised with horses, competed on horses, fell in love with and grieved deeply her horses, and tried to share her passion for them with her two children, although it must be said that the DNA didn’t quite transfer. Connie is very knowledgeable about horses, so when she inquired, I decided to tell her my impressions.
“Bit’s heart isn’t in it anymore,” I told her. “He keeps stopping and refusing to move. I’m well aware that he’s an ornery horse, but I don’t think that’s what this is. I think he’s trying to tell me that something is wrong, but I don’t know what.”
After some back and forth, Connie pointed out that it had only been a week since his fall, that the weather was changing, and that he might not be getting sufficient amounts of his usual supplements. “I’ll mention it to mum when she gets home,” she said. I nodded in agreement, making a mental note to touch base with Wendy later in the day, to see what she thought.
Ultimately, her text fell along the same lines as my conversation with Connie: that I should hold off riding for a few weeks, that she would increase his supplements, and that the weather was, indeed, changing. Even so, my gut continued to tell me that something wasn’t right, and I was determined to ascertain what that something was before I climbed into into the saddle again.
There was one other consideration that came up briefly in my conversation with Connie: Bit isn’t getting any younger. At 26, he doesn’t possess the same level of piss and vinegar that he did when I first started working with him. Now, when he’s feeling alright, he’ll stand in position nicely at the mounting block. Then, the minute I’d put a foot in the stirrup, he’d start moving, trying to prevent me from mounting. Now, he waits until I tell him to walk off from the mounting block. Then, he’d walk off before I even had my other foot in the stirrup. Many things had changed, over the years, but for one: I hadn’t taken his aging into account. I mean to say, we all age, we all change, some things become more difficult to do, and we alter our lives accordingly. It never occurred to me that I would need to do that with my horse.
So this is where we’re at. It’s an entirely new mindset for me, a new learning curve I need to adjust to. I’m happy to do it, of course, but I must confess some sadness, as well: I knew that Bit would get old, one day. I just didn’t realize that the day had come.
