How's and Why's?

But first- a quick update- the publisher of Laura Crum's newest book, "Going, Gone" encountered some problems yesterday. (Gotta love technology eh?) All who sent her an email requesting to be included in the book review, please zap her again with your pertinent details! Don't want to miss anyone! The email again is: Susan@danielpublishing.com



Onto the topic of the day!

One of the most often heard questions I hear personally is how and why did I choose hoof care. After all, it *is* more a "Man's World", is it not? Some think it is my stance in the "Battle of the Sexes". Some think I am insane (which I probably am.) Some just have to wonder.... other stuff. I am happy to say that the only "Battle of the Sexes" I choose to engage in is which one of us (my Dear Husband or myself, or the boys and myself,) get to the chow line first. My decision had nothing to do with my level of sanity, or lack there of, either. It was plain and simple, The Horses.


If you were to ask my Dad, he would tell you what he has everyone else along the way- horses have been my passion since I "had legs". Other little girls play with dolls, and have tea parties. Me? I opted for trucks and horse trailer toys. And loads of plastic horses, of course. My "herd" and I galloped miles around my room as a child, and I wore out the knees on countless pairs of jeans, galloping myself around and around.... (Hmm. Might be one of the reasons why my knees creak and groan so now.)

The passion never dimmed, but carried on through my teens, into my twenties, to today- nearing forty. (Holy CRAP- where did THAT time go??)

For a long time, I was content with the "status quo" of equine knowledge. Happy to let farrier's do the "hoof stuff", I wanted to ride and train and show. But as I got older, there was a hole. Something... something I couldn't quite put my finger on that was *missing*.

Lame horses, horses with hoof problems, horses with health problems became more and more interesting. Movement was fascinating. (Still is.)

Gradually my focus dropped lower on the limb, to the hoof. And I started to ask questions, read, listen, watch, and learn.

Quite a few years and scarred up hands, beat up body later, I still find hooves and hoof care fascinating. Yes, I get heartily sick of owners. I'm not going to lie- if you are a sh*thead owner, I'll tell you flat out and pack up and go. But if you honestly want to learn, I'll be there for you.

Hoof care is by no means an easy job. Part of me chose it for the horses, so I could learn more. A bigger part of me took that path because I just don't "do" regular jobs. Office type stuff. People, all around me. Set routines, set hours, must be nice all the time. Been there, done that, got the ulcer from it. The hell with that- give me MY time, my hours, and fewer people, and HORSES. Turns out I am a much nicer, more balanced person that way.


We've had some interesting times in hoof care to say the least. One of the funniest, aside from Dear Husband getting a ride on a mini (I need to tell that "tail" again... funniest damn thing I have ever seen in my LIFE.) *cough cough* Let's try this again..

One of the funniest things that comes to mind is after the birth of Wrecking Crew... Dear Husband was on crutches (knee surgery number.. umm... two I think,) and we had an emergency call come in. He couldn't do the job. I had a fever and a sinus infection, but the horse was in trouble so off we went. Packed up the Little Mens, and out we go.

The horse had stepped on a shoe, and half pulled it. Now, this was a big horse. Taller than Bunz by a bit, but BROAD. Big. Horse. We pulled up and I thought... Oh. Damn. This is going to hurt. (It did... several times over...)

Owner is a tiny little lady, whose legs reach the ground and that's about it. Horse's legs were almost as long as she was tall. (Course that memory might be a bit warped from the fever and all too.) Her husband needed to pop into the barn, and just happened to do so as I was pulling on my chaps and lining up my tools. A good ol' boy, he looked in amazement at Dear Husband, leaning on one crutch, holding baby Wrecking Crew in the other arm, and me getting suited up, and out of his mouth came the words, "A *girl* farrier?" Loaded with sarcasm, dripping with southern disbelief, the man was in a state of shock.

I stood up- slowly. (Cause the barn was spinning around me, really, but I think he took it differently.) Finished hooking my apron on. Picked up the shoe pullers in my right hand. Put my left hand on my hip, looked him dead in the eye, and with my best NYC Biotch accent I said,
"Yeah. A GIRL Farrier. You got a problem wid dat?"

Never seen a man scoot onto a tractor and head back out so fast in my life.


The horse was a d*ck but I got the job done. (Barely. Not gonna lie- I was WAY out of shape, sick as a dog, and wanted to crawl home crying and never look at a hoof again.)

Is it a job I'd advise anyone to try? Oh hell no. Something has to be set way, way differently in your brain to do this job. Pain can not be an issue, cause you WILL be in pain- a lot. You have to be determined. You have to have a stubborn streak. You have to know horses, people, business, and how to mix them all together just right to make it work. You have to be willing to learn- every single day, with every single horse you meet. If you have what it takes, it IS worth it. There is something about being able to do a skilled job with your hands that soothes the soul. Knowing you are making a difference for that horse helps, too.

I hope that helps answer some of the questions. Be sure you sign up your blog for the book review, and fire away with any questions you have from this corner!

Happy Nekkid Hoofin Y'all
~MM