The farrier came today.
First time Oz had his nails done in 10 weeks or so, and I thought it was high time they are looked at.
He was a good boy, though a little apprehensive.
First question to the farrier: "Have you ever done a gaited horse?"
"No," he says.
"Mule?"
"Once," he says.
Okay. I explained that Oz has hooves similar to a mule. High heel and short toe, slightly steep.
He nods and looks at his feet, checks them over and asks me when he last had his feet done.
I cringe. "About 10 weeks."
He smiles and says "Pretty good. There isn't a lot to do on him."
Phew. Although his hooves looked quite good to me, I wasn't sure. "He wears his hooves off like a wild horse," the farrier told me. "Look, they round upward slightly. He has really nice hard hooves. Not prone to going flat or flaring out."
Double phew.
I told him he is a bit ouchie on stones, especially on the left hind, and asked if he can check for anything wrong there. I couldn't see anything, no abcess or something equally painful. He checked and said he's probably just a bit sensitive because he was on grass so long. It confirms what I was thinking, but it's nice to have an expert take a look.
As he doesn't know Oz, he was asking lots of questions about my riding habits, and also said he'll keep an eye on his feet every time he's doing them, in case he wears them down oddly, or too much.
When I sheepishly admitted that the farrier at the old yard told me to put Keratex on his hooves, but I'd only done it once, he nodded. I told him I don't oil his hooves and didn't see the point of putting hoof hardener on them, as it is the sole that's sensitive, not the hoof being soft. He agreed that Oz doesn't need Keratex, and that it was a wise decision not to use it on him.
Farrier asked what I'm feeding, told him he's out during the day on grass, gets haylage in the evening and a small scoop of "At Grass" mix, which has vitamins, minerals and stuff, and also has some hoof supplements in it. (Which is partly why I chose it over chaff.) He smiles and goes "That's what I like to hear. He has very nice hooves. Keep doing what you're doing, working from the inside out is better than the outside in."
Once he was all done and happy, I decided to see how he'll take to the eggbutt snaffle bit I got for him.
Well.
LOL.
He stood there, chewing (really wide), clanking it, messing around with it, and quite clearly not at all comfortable with it. He's never had a snaffle in his mouth, and I think he let out a hearty sigh of relief when I took it off. Apparently he prefers his curb bit. Go figure.
So... One Eggbutt Snaffle for sale, 4.5", worn once, £7. LOL
As it was bright and early, and a beautiful day, I tacked up and we headed out.
No drama, but he was keen to get going and in his boundless enthusiasm nearly took off without me.
*rolls eyes* Yo! WAIT for me to get ON, maybe?
So off we went -- together, eventually.
Well, it was cold, the ground was hard packed snow, and he LOVED it. So much so, everything had to be done in Corto (Trot speed). He just wanted to go-go-go.
I used to exercise a cob who was "forward going" -- or so I thought. Compared to Oz, Jack is positively lethargic.
Eventually we got lost. Well, I got lost. Oz never knew where we were in the first place, and he didn't really care where we were going, just as long as we were going there in Corto.
We ran into (almost literally) a group of women walking their dogs. I said hi, and admitted I was lost. They pointed me in the right direction -- but that wasn't the direction Oz wanted to go. Oh no. There was a long long soft grassy stretch, and he wasn't going anywhere until he sped along it.
"Hang a right at the top, it'll take you to the path!" one of the women yelled after me, after I laughed and said he's unstoppable and I'm gonna let him go up and come back down.
So we hung a right up top -- much to Oz's disappointment, because he'd spotted another nice soft track and really, really wanted to go that way. (Further from home.)
He behaved and we went the right way -- only to lose track in the snow and get turned around somewhere. (Not helped by Mr. Can't-stand-still-might-grow-roots when I tried to check the board with the layout of the paths.) We ran into one of the ladies again and she pointed me in the right direction.
Unfortunately, the right direction had MONSTERS. (Some junk which was cordoned off with warning tape.)
There was much blowing and flicking of ears, and we made it about nose level on the far side of the monster...when it ATTACKED!
The wind caught the tape and fluttered it, and I found out Oz is capable of vertical takeoff. All four feet became airborne at the same time. I think he managed to hover a few seconds before landing.
Lucky I have a pilot's license.
The ground was incredibly slippery, and he was really scared, so I turned around. There is no sense risking an injury or accident in the middle of the woods, just to get past some fluttering tape. So we weaved our way through the woods (in Corto... *sigh*) and eventually I saw the sign for Bridleway 33, which is the one we normally use.
By this time we'd been out -- Corto -- for about an hour and a bit.
I tried to make him walk. Any other horse I know, when you slacken the reins, will happily plod along in a walk.
For Oz that's an invitation to switch from Corto to Largo. Walk is for wimps.
Ergo, I held him back. Instead of Corto, we were now half way between Corto and Fino. No "Clip-Clop" for us. Hell no. "Taka-taka-taka." Eventually he went into full Fino, barely moving forward, those feet going a hundred miles a minute. So I let him Corto again, because he was working himself into a sweat.
If Jack, the cob, were a dog, he'd be a Labrador / German Shephard cross.
Oz? Part Whippet, part Jack Russel, with a bit of Husky thrown in.
He was a little bit damp -- not dripping or anything, just curly hair kind of damp -- and we'd been out an hour and a half, pretty much in Corto the entire time. I managed to make him walk for about two minutes. (Two WHOLE minutes!) Then he spotted something in the distance and had to speed up in case the post he saw disappeared before he got there.
You know, those bridleway signposts...they have a habit of walking off.
So imagine. An hour and a half of trot-speed, and the blighter wasn't even tired.
We finally made it to the gate going down to the yard -- and Oz ran right past it. Didn't even blink. He was gonna go for another hour and a half, thankyouverymuch.
When we turned around, he twigged we're going home, and couldn't get down there fast enough. (Well there's a surprise...)
In the end, we were out an hour and 45 minutes. His fur was curled and damp, but not wet.
I think I'll take up endurance riding...
