Whilst I was cheering Richie into second place in the jump race on Thursday the mare started to show colic symptoms.
Thursday evening turned out to be a perfect example of the unpredictability that comes with horses. Although being an excellent source of recreation and relaxation they can also cause extreme worry and distress. Thursday certainly had all of that and more.
Due to a heavy course and Richie not quite being in peak condition we were just hoping that he would be among the three first across the finish line in this particular race. But when he was suddenly neck to neck with the leader about 200 metres before home the excitement rose and I could not stop myself from jumping up and down cheering Richie on.
But the excitement of Team Richie was not enough to make him beat his hardest competitor over jumps this season. He came second but the initial disappointment was soon replaced with delight that he had under the circumstances run a very good race. You can’t win them all.
So the planned celebration of Richie in general that was taking place in the evening was still on with the team in good spirits. But then just as we got home I received the phone call that I always dread. The mare was showing signs of colic.
Colic must be every horse owner’s biggest nightmare. So unexpected, so variable, so out of your control and so potentially deadly. Needless to say we threw ourselves in the car. The Stud Muffin on the way to his first colic watch and me praying that I would not have to experience another one with a deadly outcome.
Down the yard the girls had already started walking her around and the vet had been called and was on his way. The now three week old little colt was happily charging up and down the arena seemingly unaware of his mother’s pain.
Then the vet came, examined her, administered some drugs and went. The Stud Muffin went back home for supplies and camping beds and I walked round and round the outdoor school with a lethargic mare and an overjoyed foal. At least he was enjoying all the attention.
A long night followed. Fortunately the Stud Muffin was there with me. Despite his relatively newfound horse “interest” he was excellent. Luckily the mare got better rather than worse and when I walked her out for the third time at 4.30 she was so desperate for food she dragged me down the path towards the grass verge. Always a good sign.
And the next morning when she tried to bite me as I gave her a little bit of hay over her door I knew she would be ok.
Yesterday, with happiness restored in the little family, I decided to go and see Richie. Three days after the race he was still lame on the leg he had bashed on the last fence to home –which in hindsight might have cost him the victory – and so tired he looked like he had been drugged. When I stroked his neck and head he just quietly put his head on my shoulder without even trying to nibble me or bite my hair.
I know it’s normal that they get tired after a tough race and that he will soon bounce back but it still breaks my heart to see him like that. I do hate it when they are not well.
Thursday evening turned out to be a perfect example of the unpredictability that comes with horses. Although being an excellent source of recreation and relaxation they can also cause extreme worry and distress. Thursday certainly had all of that and more.
Due to a heavy course and Richie not quite being in peak condition we were just hoping that he would be among the three first across the finish line in this particular race. But when he was suddenly neck to neck with the leader about 200 metres before home the excitement rose and I could not stop myself from jumping up and down cheering Richie on.
But the excitement of Team Richie was not enough to make him beat his hardest competitor over jumps this season. He came second but the initial disappointment was soon replaced with delight that he had under the circumstances run a very good race. You can’t win them all.
So the planned celebration of Richie in general that was taking place in the evening was still on with the team in good spirits. But then just as we got home I received the phone call that I always dread. The mare was showing signs of colic.
Colic must be every horse owner’s biggest nightmare. So unexpected, so variable, so out of your control and so potentially deadly. Needless to say we threw ourselves in the car. The Stud Muffin on the way to his first colic watch and me praying that I would not have to experience another one with a deadly outcome.
Down the yard the girls had already started walking her around and the vet had been called and was on his way. The now three week old little colt was happily charging up and down the arena seemingly unaware of his mother’s pain.
Then the vet came, examined her, administered some drugs and went. The Stud Muffin went back home for supplies and camping beds and I walked round and round the outdoor school with a lethargic mare and an overjoyed foal. At least he was enjoying all the attention.
A long night followed. Fortunately the Stud Muffin was there with me. Despite his relatively newfound horse “interest” he was excellent. Luckily the mare got better rather than worse and when I walked her out for the third time at 4.30 she was so desperate for food she dragged me down the path towards the grass verge. Always a good sign.
And the next morning when she tried to bite me as I gave her a little bit of hay over her door I knew she would be ok.
Yesterday, with happiness restored in the little family, I decided to go and see Richie. Three days after the race he was still lame on the leg he had bashed on the last fence to home –which in hindsight might have cost him the victory – and so tired he looked like he had been drugged. When I stroked his neck and head he just quietly put his head on my shoulder without even trying to nibble me or bite my hair.
I know it’s normal that they get tired after a tough race and that he will soon bounce back but it still breaks my heart to see him like that. I do hate it when they are not well.
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