Horse Mavericks

Pretty Boy

“He’s a pretty boy,” Key said tying the one-year-old colt to the hitching post.  He was a bay with a mane as fuzzy as yarn and a coat so soft and silky, I could barely feel it when I slid my hand across his shoulder.  “His mother isn’t the only one who will love him,” Key said stroking his neck.  Her blue eyes twinkled with affection. 

I couldn’t argue with that.  In addition to good looks, he seemed to be a good kid chocked full of mischief.  And like most healthy youngsters, he had a skinned knee.  But, since he was a horse, the laceration was just above his right rear hoof, and Key needed to apply medicine.

Lanny West was under a gelding trimming the back hoof.  He stopped what he was doing and watched Key slide the back of her hand down the colt’s leg.  A tube of ointment dangled in her fingers.  When she got to the cut, she squeezed the medicine.  The colt lifted his hoof to avoid the sting.  Key tried again and the horse lifted the foot once more.  After a few more attempts, Lanny said.  “It’s turning into a game.  Let me teach you something.”  Lanny removed the gelding’s hoof from the shoeing stand and placed it on the ground.

He went over to the colt and picked up the right front leg, which was on the same side as the injured foot.  He bent it close to the colt’s body.  He wiggled it back and forth so the colt would be off balance and the little bay couldn’t lift his back hoof.  “Sometimes you have to get in and get out.”

While Lanny held the front leg, Key sat on her haunches and applied the ointment above the rear hoof.  When she was finished, Lanny told her to run her hand down the leg and around the cut so that the colt could learn she wasn’t going to doctor him every time.  Then he set the hoof down and asked Key to pet the leg and rub around the wound once more.  The colt didn’t move.  

Both Key and Lanny stood quietly next the horse for a few moments.  The bay relaxed, lowered his head and chewed his lips.  His tail dangled quietly and a breeze shifted the horsehairs.  Lanny went back to shoeing the gelding, and Key put the ointment away in her truck.

I felt as if I had just witnessed something incredible.  To a casual bystander, there would have been nothing more to see than two people doctoring a colt.  But what I saw and felt was an intricate dance between a large, athletic creature and a couple of small two-legged individuals. 

Lanny and Key used pragmatic solutions while communicating a sense of reassurance even though the medicine stung.  Accomplishing that required knowledge, razor-sharp timing and empathy–an art form that takes years of practice and dedication to develop. 

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