Thread: A kindly horse is in trouble.

This article tells a true tale of the death of a heavy horse. I wrote it a couple of years ago but recent events gave cause for me to remember writing it. I have never posted the article until now. Most private horse owners will admit that emotion plays a very big part in the reason why they keep a horse. This particular horse left a big impact on me.


A kindly horse is in trouble.

As I leaned over the stable door I realised very quickly that Tara was in trouble. She looked up at me and made no move to come forwards. She knew I am the bikkie man but the enthusiasm for life seemed to have disappeared from her. Her ears were back, her flanks were heaving and she was tucked up. I opened the stable door and moved towards her, she was very nervous and as I put my hand up to stroke her she flinched. I touched her neck gently and I could almost feel her pain. It is not nice to see a heavyweight Shire in pain because in such circumstances they can be unpredictable. When you get close to an animal weighing over 700 kilos say 1500lbs you are reliant on her being gentle towards you.. I ran my hands through her coat and the hair came out almost in handfuls, she was moulting fast.

I look down at her hind feet where the wire had wrapped around her pasterns. On one of hind legs the hair had been cut back roughly, the other heel also needed trimming. I could see streaks of what looked lie crystallized treacle dripping down the feather along with dribbles of bright red blood. For much of the time she was standing on three legs holding the fourth up off the ground so that no weight was bearing down on it. Her shoes had now been removed but she was obviously still in chronic pain.

I had no faith whatsoever in the vet who was supposedly tending to her. The woman was odd - one of those skinny women who probably weighed out everything she ate. Supposedly she was a long distance endurance rider who owned an Arab. A big Shire mare like Tara were simply not her type of horse. She had attended my own horse once with a cough and she had been reluctant to inject anti biotic for a persistent cough but eventually I persuaded her to do so. For Tara she had come to the conclusion that the swelling was to do with infection from Thrush . Personally I could not see how such a grossly swollen leg was the result of thrush especially when I knew that Tara had been caught up in electric fence rope - a 3/8ths inch wire cable threaded with a metal thread I decided I would interfere - this Girlie was in trouble. She needed to be seen by another vet. I knew Tara’s present owner, indeed, I knew Tara’s previous owner. It was partly to do with me that the horse was kept on our yard together with her mate another Shire but a gelding. The son was on the yard doing some chores for the owner so I called him over and told him that I was going to groom Tara to get some of the moulting hair off her back She would be itching like mad. I gently led her out from the stable and tied her to the hitching ring and then got to work. She stood meekly whilst I worked away and filled a bucket with her hair. Finally I got to the feathers. The two front legs were OK, the white feathers were merely entangled and dirty. The two hind legs were a different matter The feathers had been hacked at with scissors but a lot of hair remained. Hair on a horse is a sensitive matter, Some owners trim it back constantly others allow it to grow naturally. This girl needed that hair cut away so that the wound could be seen. I filled a bucket with anti septic fluid and cleaned all of feather that I could reach.

I combed out some of the congealed lumps that had formed. I trimmed the hair around the coronet and the hoof. I got a better view of the ½ inch wide scab which had formed almost all the way round the hoof. The scab was crystalline in same places and weeping in others It looked ugly - obscene almost.
The tail was getting in the way so I chopped about six inches off. Tail hair would brush against the wound and introduce dirt and farmyard germs where they were least welcome. First I did one leg then I did the other. All the time I was kneeling on the floor with an inch or two of those big draught horse feet. If she started or moved I might be crushed but Tara knew I was trying to help her.

When I had finished much of the dribble had been removed and one could see the wounds better. But this horse was not a happy horse. She was in deep trouble. She was dependent upon those two hind legs to propel her forwards and each had to carry a quarter share of the weight of the animal. If infection got into those wounds then they would eat away at the flesh. One foot anyway was already bent out of position and a strain was being exerted on the ligament. He left hind foot hung down when she lifted the leg. Unless the damage was repaired, she would be prone to stumbling. If she did go down onto the ground then she would never get up again. She would be cast and how does one lift 3/4s of a ton of horse without a sling and a tractor, especially as there was no room in the stable for that tractor. We would never get her up on her feet again and then there would be the question of what additional damage might we do in trying.

I led her back into the stable and went looking for someone who might know what had happened.
Eventually I found out that she had been left caught in the electrified wire long enough to fill a wheel barrow full of dung. Noone had seen her caught up out there in that big field It was no one’s job to check up on each of the horses that grazed in it. Tara had probably rolled - because of the spring moult and she had caught both of her hind feet in the cable. She had struggled to free herself and in doing so the cable had become caught up around both hind feet As she struggled to free her self so the cable had cut into her flesh. Somehow she had managed to stand - just how no one really knows. There she had stood like that waiting to be rescued perhaps for twelve hours or more. Eventually a farmer coming to harrow the field had discovered and freed her from the wire..

The wounds had been hidden by the feather. No one had looked deep enough to see the extent of the cuts. The feather should have been cut off, the haired shaved back to the skin. She should have been injected with anti inflammatory and anti biotic. The wound should have been washed on a daily basis. Instead the skinny vet had blamed Thrush.

The following day I was moaned at by the owner for cutting off six inches of her tail. In the meantime the wound was supporating and unbeknown to me the first stages of a gangrene like infection was beginning to take hold. However in defending my actions I managed to persuade
The parents of the rider that another vet should be called in.

At long last the day had come and Tara was off to meet with the surgeon who might just save her. She did not know it of course to her it was just like any other day. A 16 hand 15 year old Shire mare is not the easiest of horses to boss around. And if the horse happened to be one dosed with pain killer the problem was an acute one. The previous day the principle of the veterinary practice had come along to the yard and inspected her wounds. He said that probably what was needed was for the right hind leg to be plastered up and held in position of for at least a week The questions was whether the surgeon felt that the work might result in the foot and ligament going back into position. The infected flesh surrounding the damaged legs would probably die off and be replaced but the joint had to go back into position. This horse was a big girl and her weight of well over 700 kilos had to be supported by four load bearing structures - her legs and feet. If one foot could not bear the load then the prognosis for her was poor. The skills needed to make an honest assessment were at the surgery so Tara had to be transported for 50 miles.

I gave her a quick groom and whispered in her ear that she was to be good. She look down at me.
“OK but be careful I am in enough pain already” she said.
The family stood around us. Mum and all the kids, were at the yard and Dad was on his way to perform the job of driving.

I buttered Tara up but she was not to be fooled. She had already realised that this fuss was about her and not her owners. When it came to putting her into the box then she flatly refused. Now getting a normal horse into a trailer can be tricky but getting Tara to walk up a ramp on two dodgy hind feet was something different.
“I am not going in that tin can” she said.
When you deal with an ordinary horse then a bit of brute force can work wonders but nothing like that will work with a Shire. If a heavy draught horse doesn’t want to do something then one had got one’s work cut out trying to persuade her otherwise. I tugged on the lead rope, I tapped her rump. I tried bribing her with carrots. In the end it was all hands on deck with the boys pushing her bum that got her to walk into the trailer. All I had to do was get out of the way at the last minute.

We arrived at the veterinary yard without incident. The staff came out to meet her. There were used to fancy competition horses and the visit of a full Shire was a rare occurrence. Such horses are always nearly always pets. A Shire is a horse bred to pull a heavy wagon or a plough or a tree they are not usually used to ride. They are immensely strong. You ask a Shire on occasions where otherwise; you would tell a Thorobred. Tara had an excellent temperament and she tried to mix in the with the crowd but if she did not want to do something then she would not do it and noone could make her. She knew that.

The problem was with her two hind feet. She had been caught up in electric fencing cable. The cable had become wrapped around both her hind legs and in trying to escape she had cable burned both of her legs. The wound inflicted had almost gone down to the bone. In the old days such wounds brought with it gangrene and she would have died of infection. Nowadays anti biotics and anti inflammatory gave her a chance. Initially she had been under the care of a vet who had misdiagnosed the problem That is a long story. The time wasted waiting for a cure to on existent Thrush had merely added to the problem, Now the real problem had been diagnosed and the question was could she take and benefit from the required treatment
.
The first thing to do was to trim away all the remaining hair around the wound and then to clean it up. The dead flesh had to be cut away. Tara took one look at the crown of people surrounding her and wondered whether she was in the right place. Undoubtedly she could smell death -horses have an acute sense of smell. Going close to her with a needle would have caused her to panic But the staff were very good. The wounds were leaned up and eventually the worst leg was inspected more closely through ultrasound. The big question was whether the ligament had been damaged. Luckily it did not appear so. The flesh wounds with careful treatment heal. The ligament would not. Tara would then represent so much dog food. Without four good strong feet there would be no viable horse.

The father had a marvelous way of wrapping bandages round a wound. His two boys were the regular riders of this gentle giant But neither father nor sons knew much about horses. I was there to help and to ask the questions.

Over the course of an hour the condition of the horse and the possible treatments were discussed. Finally put the surgeon vet on the spot - did he think he could save her?
‘Yes’; he said.
I repeated my question – “was he reasonably confident that she could work again?”.
‘I think so’ he replied.
I turned to the owner of the practice and asked -’ There is no insurance - how much?
A sum was mentioned and the owner nodded in acceptance. “OK” he said.
It looked as though she would live. Smiles erupted all round.
This gentle giant was going to make it. We hoped.

But she didn’t make it. despite tender loving care over several weeks.
Some very expensive veterinary care did not prevent the gangrene from settng in and once it reached a certain stage of development, it took hold.

Finally the senior vet came to the conclusion that the fight was lost. He suggested we accepted the inevitable. Tara was past saving. The impact on the two boys was massive/ Every now and again one of them would sneak off for a little cry. As for me, well this was the culmination of what some weeks ago I feared might come to pass .

Some arrangements were quickly made and a big pit was dug in the ground with a digger. The vet
came along carrying a large medical needle. Tara stood unsuspectingly as the needle was pushed into her neck. She took the second needle equally placidly. Then she collapsed and fell to the ground. A Shire makes a thud – a noise once heard never to be forgotten.

There was only one way to move her and that was in the bucket of the digger. Not a very elegant form of transport. She was in that highly undignified fashion carried over to her grave.
She deserved better. There were no flowers, no last words. Everything was done in a hushed silence. I guess about two dozen residents of the stable yard were present at what developed into a very personal ceremony.. Whether any of those present learned from the course of events I am not sure. For me it became a key reason to take my horse away from the yard despite the advantages of using it. DIY livery yards are difficult institutions to manage and accidents like this are common events. Owning horses is not just knowing what you know, it is also about learning what you don’t know. It is the learning curve of a lifetime.

As I write this article, my eyes water even though the events described took place several years ago
Some horses leave an indelible mark on the humans they come in contact with. Tara was one such horse..

Very touching story, Divus. As my own sweet Gentleman reaches the end of his life, thoughts similar to these cross my mind regularly. Well done.

Owning horses is not just knowing what you know, it is also about learning what you don’t know. It is the learning curve of a lifetime.

How true!

Thank you for your moving story. It is hard to watch one of these magnificent animals suffer and it can make you feel so helpless. The image of a horse being euthanized is one that stays with you forever. I am glad that Tara had you to give her loving care and concern.

Touching story.

It's heartbreaking losing an animal buddy. Horses, dogs, cats--these wonderful creatures become so attached to us they become family members. Our cat Patty was euthanized two years ago. She was sixteen years old and had a tumor near her heart. At first, she was sneezing drops of blood from her nose, but the sneezing worsened to severe seizures. My wife and I both held Patty while the vet euthanized her. It's tough. I've been to funerals--even of relatives--where I prayed where I prayed over the body of the deceased lying in a casket and not of drop of water trickled down my cheek. But with Patty, it was so different; I just couldn't hold back the tears. They came streaming down my face. Your story reminded me of her last moments on earth.

As I write, my dog Lucky, a 9 year-old German Shepherd/ Labrador mix, isn't feeling well. He has been vomiting most of the day. I'm hoping it is nothing more than an upset stomach. These poor pets, whether horses or dogs or cats, are so innocent. How I wish Lucky could speak to me to tell me his problem. I think that's why we feel so sorry for them because we know in our hearts they need us dearly to survive. In some way, they are as helpless as children or perhaps even more helpless because they can't talk to us.

Anyhow, sorry for your loss.

Divus, I know how you felt about Tara.

The problem was with her two hind feet. She had been caught up in electric fencing cable. The cable had become wrapped around both her hind legs and in trying to escape she had cable burned both of her legs. The wound inflicted had almost gone down to the bone. In the old days such wounds brought with it gangrene and she would have died of infection.

You didn't need to repeat facts already stated.