Not knowing who to use, and being told that this folks had heard good things about this fellow, I called to book an appointment for him to give Daisy a trim. I emailed him photos of Daisy's hooves, both up close on the outer surface, and also the soles. In thinking back on things, he was a little confused, calling and leaving a message about my "Clydesdale horse.," She's a 15.2 hand paint mare!
I went out yesterday to work with Daisy so she'd be in an calm and happy frame of mind when he arrived. He showed up early, and was as curt and uncommunicative as he'd been over the phone.
Daisy was a very good girl. She stood like a rock for him. My daughter and stood near her head, and Daisy half closed her eyes with happiness to have both of us near her. Most folks who work around horses for a living will at least give the horse a touch or a pat. This man had no interest in her at all.
He brought out an enormous hoof stand, with a base like a Christmas tree stand. Huge. I wondered how he was going to manage with something that big as the diameter got in the way of the horse's other feet.
He picked up a front hoof and Daisy turned her head to look at him. She wanted to lightly touch him with her whiskers. She is not a nibbler nor a biter and in the week I've had her, she's been remarkably soft and careful with her lips, only nuzzling the palm of one's hand. Any other endearments by her are a loving look from a lowered head, looking into your eyes, or putting her head next to yours companionably.
I said, "Don't worry, she will not bite you." He responded in fear, "Don't let her touch me!" Okay, I thought, he's an odd duck but on with the trim job.
When he had used the nippers on all four of her feet, I asked him about the terribly splaying of her hooves. He seemed offended and said that he wasn't done yet--when he was done, her feet would look normal. That was my first concern. You cannot go from soup plates to tea cups in a day! This guy would bear watching!
He started rasping the left front hoof. He didn't round it, and left a chunk going off in the wrong angle. All he was doing was rasping down across the entire front of the hoof wall.
In concern I asked him, "Isn't that going to further weaken an already compromised hoof?" He mumbled some double-talk about tubules and that it was worse not to rasp that area down.
Now I was really concerned! This guy apparently didn't know what he was doing, and was going to trim hoof until the shape looked right, never mind what the long term consequences. Yikes!
He put that hoof down, apparently deciding to work on a slightly less splayed one. Obviously, my two questions had made him uncomfortable. Little did he realize that I was even MORE uncomfortable, as it appeared that I had a surly, ignorant, fearful person working on Daisy's feet.
I made a mental note to Google the heck out of any problem BEFORE calling in a "professional" from now on. No more trusting in someone else with my precious horse.
Daisy's feet are sort because of the slant of her splayed feet. It hurts her to stand on three legs for extended periods of time. She's a trouper, and a good sport, but as the pain built up she needed to be able to put the fourth foot down briefly.
This fellow wanted to get her feet done and get away from the scary horse. I felt he needed the money, but would not have been doing this if he wasn't so desperate for cash.
When Daisy needed to put her right front leg down, he angrily went to a back foot. Daisy was still standing like a rock. Suddenly the fellow angrily threw down his rasp on the ground and exploded with no warning. "I'm out of here!" As he threw his tools into the back of his truck he blasted at me, "I can't work with you, with your negative reinforcement." He apparently had taken offense that we had told Daisy what a good girl she was. Being fearful and aggressive, he wanted a horse with rolling eyes, standing fearfully twitched, I guess. Never mind that Daisy had been half dozing with her head resting lightly on my daughter's shoulder. This would have been a happy scenario for a real farrier, but this fellow wanted blood and guts, I guess.
I had to ask the man three times what I owed him for his time. He was completely out of control with rage. The third time he focused on what I was saying and responded that I didn't owe him anything. I felt that he wanted an argument or for me to beg him to stay or burst into tears and be at his mercy.
My daughter, who was horrified at his out of control behavior drifted quietly into the adjacent paddock and started to rake manure. I said, "Okay. Have a good day" and walked off with Daisy. I think he was stunned.
As I let Daisy into the arena he leaned out his truck window and tried to get my goat. "I don't have a problem with the horse, ma'am," he shouted,. "It's you I have the problem with." And off he drove.
My daughter came over to the arena and we stood and watched Daisy as she drifted around nibbling grass at the edges. I was glad she had not been fussed or upset by the angry little fellow. She had put her trust in us and we'd come through for her.
About 15 minutes later we decided to walk Daisy to her own pasture, which is about a quarter of a mile down the driveway. As we headed towards her pasture, much to our astonishment, we saw this man in his truck, coming down the hill from the direction of the land owner's home. We simply board here and this man had gone up to the "barn boss's" home, apparently to try to make trouble about me.
I believe that the barn boss and his wife have seen all kinds over the years, and although I'm a fairly recent boarder, I've paid my bill on time and Daisy has been well behaved. My guess was that they simply stared at the man as though he had two heads. They do not delight in malicious gossip.
After a lovely munch, we walked Daisy back to her stall and covered area. Later in the evening I went back to give her another session in her pasture, We're building up her grazing time gradually so that she can be turned out all day long at a later date. By now, Daisy was obviously sore. She stumbled and faltered a lot on the uneven ground and on the gravel when we had to cross the driveway. She had not done that before the trim.
I went home and beat the bushes for a decent farrier, and Googled splayed hooves. I liked the "Mustang roll" method, which rounds the fronts of the hooves, so that the splay does not continue to push up and work against the internal structure. The feeling of that stress must be a bit like cutting a fingernail too short, and it really hurts as it pulls against the quick!
I called acquaintances and located a farrier who was said to be patient and knowledgeable.
At least he sounder older and more knowledgeable than the 30-something man who'd left in a rage (don't get me wrong--someone two or five years out of shoeing school would have been warmly welcomed if they liked horses and knew how to fix splayed hooves). Honestly, that guy is a walking felony, just waiting to happen. When someone goes from zero to 60 unpredictably and that fast, with a hair trigger rage and loses it completely, they are a danger to themselves and to others. His T-shirt logo seemed to point to "short man syndrome" as well but that was another issue for another day. I hope he gets over his bad self someday.
So we will see if what the next farrier will say. I have been praying that we will not have to wait 6 or 8 weeks for Daisy's hooves to grow out before he can help her!
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