Rolling Dog Farm Blog

A couple of hours after Dr. Joseph Harari left this afternoon (see previous post), I had just finished putting the horses up in their stalls at Beauty’s Barn when I walked over to see if I could help our new employee, Jodie B., wrap up at Lena’s Barn.  (Jodie and Gloria have both joined us in the past month, so we now have two full-time people helping us on animal care.)  Jodie was taking her last horse to his stall, but told me she had noticed our Belgian draft horse Beaver bleeding from his hoof when she was feeding him.

I had taken Joe and his friend over to meet the Belgians earlier and hadn’t seen anything wrong, so whatever it was had just happened.  Jodie and I headed over to look.  At this point it was 5:30 and getting dark.  Sure enough, he was bleeding from a puncture wound at the coronary band, just above the top of the hoof wall … and he had managed to peel off a layer of hoof, about an inch wide, all the way down to the bottom of his foot.  Just below the coronary band the hoof wall felt spongy.  Beaver boy!  If it were just a puncture wound, I wouldn’t be too concerned, but because of the location and because he’s got hoof wall injured, I’m worried.

I call our equine vet, Dr. Erin Taylor, on her cell phone.  She knows my number and sees it on her caller ID.

Erin: "Dr. Smith."  (She calls me that. I love it.)

Me: "Another sighted horse finding new ways to injure itself."

She laughs.  The last time I was at her clinic I looked at their whiteboard with the list of horses currently there and pointedly noted how many of them were being treated for "lacerations" … and each of these horses, of course, could see.  It’s totally counterintuitive:  Why is it that sighted horses manage to cut themselves more often than blind horses?  But I digress.  Again. 

I explain to Erin what I’m seeing, and she tells me what to do.  Clean it up, bandage it, start him on antibiotics, get some bute (an anti-inflammatory) in him, and then call her in the morning when we have daylight to get a better look at it.

So that’s what I’m doing in the photo at the top of this post.  Jodie is holding Beaver, while his brother Rooster looks on.  We brought Rooster along to keep Beaver company — these two have to go everywhere together — and we kept him occupied with some grain in the bucket he has knocked over.  ("I’m done, so I think I’ll just kick this bucket to let them know.")

We’re using the mercury vapor light on the outside of Lena’s Barn to see, along with an LED headlamp I’m wearing.  Alayne came to help and also take these photos.

Here’s a shot of that huge foot … I’m spraying betadine, a disinfectant, on the wound:

I’m balancing Beaver’s foot on something called a HoofJack, a lightweight, amazingly strong hoof stand that our farrier introduced us to.  Of course, I still had to lift his foot onto the stand and "persuade" Beaver to keep it there, and after several rounds of lifting and holding his foot, my back was killing me.  I don’t know how farriers do this kind of work for a living!