The Healing Power of the Herd

Yesterday afternoon late Salina must have decided to take a nap in her stall. She's doing this more now, and has had a number of lie-downs from which she had no trouble getting up again. Keil Bay was with her on the barnyard/grass paddock side of the barn, along with the donkeys, and they had grazed and fanned and eaten hay and meandered around most of the day together.

But when daughter went out to feed Salina her third meal of the day, she found the grand old mare lying down, a bit sweaty, unable to get up. By a stroke of luck my husband was home and he went out and basically picked Salina up enough that she could get her hind legs engaged to stand.

She was of course a bit stiff, but she was able to walk out to the oak tree to get hosed off. She had a number of scrapes in all the places on her side that get pressure when a horse struggles to get up. Fortunately it was on the opposite side of the body than her very close to healing hip point pressure wound.

Aside from the stiffness, my main concern was her eye. She was down with good eye to the ground and it had gotten some bedding debris in it.

So there were a number of things to do, none of which she really wanted to be done.

Once she was hosed and assessed, had dropped manure, and was steady on her feet, we gave her her feed tub, which has a lot of good stuff in it including a good bit of water. She ate voraciously, and that was a good sign. A little while later she peed. In these moments all the basic signs of normal functioning are little triumphs, eliciting audible sighs of relief from us.

Because she's on Previcox, and yesterday was her double dose day, we didn't want to give Banamine. I got out the Arnica and the Symphytum and alternated doses. I syringe the homeopathic remedies in a base of distilled water, in a tiny syringe, so she is used to that, doesn't mind the syringe, and knows there is no taste.

My husband helped and then took over the eye rinsing. Some things Salina likes me to do, others she prefers my husband. We try to find what she prefers and honor her preferences. We went at the rinsing in spurts - in the barnyard where she could move and see her herd, and gave her breaks to let the eye do its own work to clear itself.

All of this transpired in about 45 minutes' time, and then Salina went to the gate to the front field and demanded to be let out with the rest of the herd. I was thinking NO WAY at the same time my husband opened the gate and let her walk through. And then I had the clear thought: if this ends up being the end, I want her to be with her herd, not locked in a stall or by the barn away from them.

We went with her down the hill. She took careful steps, stopped periodically, but where she ended up was all the way down in front by Keil Bay. It was prime horsefly time so we made sure she didn't get dive-bombed. She grazed, she rolled her eye around, she blinked, she kept up with Keil as he moved across the field grazing.

We sat on the log jump and comforted the donkeys, who always seem to want our reassurance when anything is off with Salina.

I watched her improve with each step. She spent about an hour with the herd and then she and the donkeys were ready to walk back up and go back to their grass paddock.

She has some new scrapes along her side. The eye is clear now and getting super-duper antibiotic ointment. Last night the donkeys left the barn after dinner tubs and Salina went into high gear, walking the barn aisle with her over-striding Hanoverian walk that we don't see all that much anymore. She pivoted at the end of the barn aisle and marched back to the other end. It was a display that I suspect had something to do with letting us know she is okay. Sore, scraped up, but essentially sound.

Right now we're in the very visceral place of looking at each day as it comes and trying to make sure we see both the small focused things, like the scrapes and the eye, along with the big picture - Salina's mood, demeanor, and quality of life.

It's hard seeing the scrapes, it's difficult seeing her one good eye have anything at all wrong. In normal moments she moves slowly, with some stiffness. But how do you obsess over those things when you see a beautiful black mare, 29 years old, who whinnies for her meals, eats with gusto, adores being bathed and groomed, wants to be with her herd, and looks like she's in a Hanoverian inspection when she strides out?

Salina needs the herd to heal herself and I need the herd to heal my own innate desire to manage, control, and prevent all mishaps. In this part of our journey with Salina, I'm learning how to take each moment in its own sweet time, be there for her, sometimes persuade her that yes, we do need to do this bit of care for you, but more than I thought would be the case, I am learning to stand back and allow her to do what horses do best when they are given the choice: keep her place in the herd. Let the herd do its healing.