Awareness of the outside world. Today is World Health Day. Gotta admit, every day has felt like world health day for a while now.
More on Milton & his vast improvement with boots. I split this over two posts, because I can’t even.
I’ve never seen or heard anything like this. I have no idea how much of an improvement this will turn out to be in the long run, nor how long any gains will last.
Here is the weirdness for the moment.
Other Horses I’m all for horses wearing boots. As evidenced by the fact that I was able to dig up half a dozen pairs without upending the tack box. This is also evidence of the fact that I never throw anything away, but that’s a different issue.
All of my horses have worn boots to jump. Mostly front boots. Previous Horse wore hind boots as well. None of them seemed to care one way or the other. Boots. No boots. Meh. It was a requirement I imposed to theoretically protect them from whacking themselves while jumping. I’ve never had a horse who wore boots on the flat, or as a matter of course.
One of the Saddlebreds goes in hind boots. If he wears his boots, he’s a little happier in the canter and around the corners. You can tell. But it’s not a huge deal. It’s not night and day. Not like Milton.
Neither Milton nor Rodney ever jumped high enough to trigger the boot requirement. Roscoe (the name Rodney arrived with) must have worn boots but that data has been repressed lost in the mists of time. Milton was edging toward bootage, but I wasn’t motivated to buy boots for a horse who was only jumping anthills.
Trying an old pair might have occurred to me if we had started down that road. Not jumping. No need for boots. Right?
Silly me.
Milton History Since the Virtual Tevis, my husband has been riding Milton. They seem to get along. At least he (the husband) doesn’t look at him (the horse) and tear his hair (either husband or horse) out in frustration and despair. Unlike some people.
A week ago, he (the husband) asked if I had back boots we could try on Milton. There was occasional tripping. Perhaps Milton was interfering with his hinds. I thought any tripping had more to do with long toes and the shoeing schedule, but was happy to oblige. Found. Tried. Mild improvement. We were pleased.
Were these front boots? Did I have other back boots we could try? Sure.
In finding a second set of back boots, I found the red front boots. Washed them. Tried.
Heavens parted.
Seriously. You could see it in the way Milton walked. The look in his eye. He strolled around as a content and happy pony. They had been having trouble with canter transitions. Lots of asking on the part of the rider. Lots of trotting around ignoring the rider on the part of the horse. Wearing boots, Milton repeatedly picked up a cute little canter as soon as he was asked.
This whole thing was a total accident. We only tried the front boots because I found them in the pile.
We had no indication.
No hint.
There has not been the slightest ding or scratch or dent on his front legs. He doesn’t move in a way that would indicate any interference.
No hint. None.
We would have done something years go.
Long time readers of the blog will know we have tried everything we could think of. Feed changes. Mid-day naps. Supplements. Body work. Lab tests.
We knew we had not figured Milton out. It was a recurring topic of conversation around here.
For one thing, he was never happy. Previous Horse was a grumpy old man the day he was foaled. Despite being a cranky curmudgeon, he spent the majority of his life in a good mood, only expressing discontent when the world was not as he deemed it should be.
I’ll grant Milton attitude around mealtimes. That seems to be a racehorse thing. But he never seemed happy the rest of the time either.
Boots. Who knew. Well, Milton, but he wasn’t saying.
This is deeply weird. Deeply. But not out of character.
Milton doesn’t like to be touched. This is more of an issue with his torso than his legs, but perhaps his skin as a whole is more sensitive to the slings and arrows that beset a horse of delicate disposition.
Milton has been know to react in a … um … disproportionate manner. One time, he objected to the fit of his new shoes. This was not an abscess, not a close nail, just shoes that were a wee bit tight. He acted as if his front hooves were welded to the ground.
As long as I completely failed to turned Milton into a stellar event horse, I’ve felt a sense of disapproval trickling down from the north. I sent you a nice horse, what did you do wrong? What if we were talking about two different horses? On the off chance, we asked about Milton’s test ride. Was he, by any chance, wearing boots? Why, yes he was.
Hmm.
We also found out that in Canada, Milton was schooling 2′ 9″ on cross-country. Two! Foot! Nine! Inches! I’ve had to jolly him around classes where all the jumps put together didn’t add up to 2′ 9″.
Canada, boots; Alabama, no boots.
Again, hmm.
In Conclusion I have no explanation. It could be a trick of the light. We could want change so badly that we are imagining change. The whole new attitude could go up in a puff of vapor tomorrow. I don’t think so. It has the feel of ‘Finally, the minions got it right.’
Wonderful if it lasts. At the moment, I am dumbfounded.
For those who don’t understand the trauma. Saddlebreds show with long flowing manes and tails. Except the Three-Gaited who get buzz cuts of their manes. They still have long tails. Therefore, everything possible is done to preserve every single, precious hair. Manes and tails are hand separated. No brushes or combs need apply. When not on display, long tails are carefully braided and put up in protective wraps. False tails are bought to fill out thin ones. Or, I should say false tail$$$. The sign of a truly retired Saddlebred is to have their tails cut off and donated to making switches for those still showing. Sam had this done recently. Don’t worry, he was left with enough to swish flies.
Me? I will take a pair of scissors to a mane or a tail at the drop of a hat. Rodney recently had his mane hacked, pictured, so that I could put liniment on his neck more easily. I don’t worry about braiding. I trust my braiding skills to be able to stuff knots into a mane if needed. So, I merrily chop away. And then send a photo to Coach Courtney.
OTOH, they shave off the forelocks. Entirely. All gone. I can always tell how much I’ve been around Saddlebreds by how weird/not-weird this looks.
Speaking of rabbits – and it is properly rabbits not bunnies – I will leave you with these random factoids for the day, “This form of story telling with a pun ending is also known as a feghoot.” Wiki: Little Bunny Foo Foo. “The “Mr. Peabody’s Improbable History” segments on Rocky and Bullwinkle were animated feghoots, right down to the pun at the end of each episode.” Wiki: Feghoot. Ah. They don’t make TV like that anymore. Now, get off my lawn.
From the bookshelf. Rereading/relistening to Rivers of London. My comfort read of the moment. ~~~
Finally achieved a second perfect month with the NYT Crosswords. It only took me two years. [2019, 2020-almost]
I would also recommend the NYT Spelling Bee. I have always been terrible with anagrams. I can barely find three-letter words in Scrabble. Possibly from being traumatized at an early age by my paternal grandmother who could have Scrabbled for her country. Yes, I’ve tried since. Wasn’t pretty. I am so bad at anagrams that I simply skip them when they show up in crosswords and hope I can find the answers from the cross clues. Despite my previous inability with the form, I’m having great luck finding words with Spelling Bee. Possibly the non-linear arrangement. Possibly the ability to repeat letters. Dunno how much is accessible without an account.
ntybee.com. NYT Spelling Bee Answers and Analysis. While I usually get to the top scoring level, I rarely get ALL the words. So, I have created an intermediate goal of getting all the pangrams and all the four-letter words. I use this to find out the word-count distribution. An unofficial fan page?
NYT: The Genius of Spelling Bee by Amlen, Nov 2020. Update. Explains the origin of the nytbee site. I admit, I did not read it completely before posting. I figured a NYT article on a NYT puzzle would not go too far astray. I did make a point of finishing it before the day was over. #HowTheSausageIsMade
Speaking of Scrabble. Word Freak: Heartbreak, Triumph, Genius, and Obsession in the World of Competitive Scrabble Players by Stefan Fatsis (Houghton Mifflin 2001). Mentioned before. Worth repeating. [Writing Rules, Writing Life]
Awareness of the outside world. Your Local Epidemiologist. Thanks to AV for another interesting find. ~~~
Weekly Walk Columbiana Sports Complex March 17, 2021 Distance – 3.14 km, note units Time – 43:41 min Mileage [LEJOG, this date]
The Boston Athletic Association offered a Pi Day Challenge. Run (or walk, in my case) 3.14 miles on 3/14/21. I missed it by THAT much.
Not quite Pi Day.
Not quite round.
Not quite the diameter.
Definitely not 3.14 miles.
I had plans, such plans. I would walk a circle on Pi day. I would draw a circle with the GPS.
Scouring the map led to ovals galore, a few triangles, but no circles. Perhaps a cul-de-sac in random neighborhood? That would thrill the residents. Perhaps 70 times on the paved inside of a traffic roundabout? Boooooring. Free-hand a circle in the pasture? Lots of walking while staring at the screen to adjust the path. Aha! The Court Square Fountain in Montgomery, complete with BLM mural. A long drive for a walk, but definitely hits the Find New Places metric. Al New Center: King’s Canvas is an Alabama Bright Light in living color, by Shamsi-Basha July 2020, fountain photos by McKinney.
Turns out I didn’t walk at all that week. Resting hip. Doesn’t hurt during the day or when I walk. Aches at night enough to keep me from sleeping well. I sleep, just not well. Very little keeps me from sleeping. So, time off.
When I started walking again, I looked for a flat, dry area. I think slipping around in the mud in the pasture was what made my hip sore in the first place. Our soil has a high clay content. The slightest amount of rain leads to skid city.
I found flat. I found no mud. Dry? Not so much.
Your factoid for the day. Due to their day-month-year notation, Europe celebrates Pi Day on 22 July, or 22/7. “Pi denotes the relationship between a circle’s circumference and its diameter and is denoted by the fraction 22/7 which calculates approximately to 3.14.” timeanddate.com: Pi Approximation Day
Virtual Brush Box 