Topaz Dreams

It has been a challenging year. A year of the pandemic. A year of working from home. A year of getting occasional messages and complaints that my horse is making too much noise and I need to do something, anything, to fix it. A year of troubleshooting and trying solutions and overfeeding the horse and ending up with a horse that doesn’t paw in her stall when I’m at the barn, with inconsistent and mixed reviews about whether she’s pawing when I’m not.

I did the best I could with the information I had at any given time. I’m angry and sad and upset at the communication failures that got us to this point, and the things that have been said to me in the last month left me with anxious meltdowns at the idea of going to the barn. That’s not sustainable. None of this is sustainable. Horses are too expensive for my happy place to turn into somewhere I worried about going all the time.

I don’t enjoy change. I came to this barn to lease Confetti. I’ve learned a lot from the self-care setup here, from the other boarders and mentors, from the people who have watched me grow along the way as I was gifted Fetti and eventually purchased Polly. Ten years! Ten years of blood and sweat and tears turning my paddocks and tack rooms into something that worked for us, customizing, building. There were more projects in the works.

So. OK. Current barn isn’t working out. I’m grieving the loss of possibilities and community, and then I moved (ok, simultaneously) into problem-solving. If I move barns, I need a trailer. I want a 2h slant gooseneck for easier trailer camping. My budget is slim to low. Bless supportive partners who told me to buy the trailer I need for the next ten years instead of buying a beat-up rusty bare-minimum trailer. Set up truck for hauling trailer. Bought trailer – 2h GN slants are near-impossible to find at a reasonable price used. Brought trailer home.

Simultaneously, I researched every local barn I could find within 45 minutes of home. Thank you to all of you who have patiently answered my questions about places you’ve been at, commutes, places you know of, and more. We thought there was a good local spot lined up and made plans to move on the 1st. I feel dumb even writing this, but my anxiety skyrocketed all week and my gut feeling was just so strong that it isn’t the right place for my two, not right now. We’re rerouting and my mares will be moving at a local full-care barn with less trail access but also less anxiety screaming at me. It’s really rare for me to have that much mental turmoil over a decision. Occasionally I get a strong sense of “yes, this is the right move, go do it” (drive four hours to buy a trailer on 24 hours notice? Sure!) so.. I’m trying hard to honor it when it goes the other way. I’m entirely aware this reads like I’m somewhat crazy and I can’t argue with that either. I don’t know, y’all, I don’t know. More on barn hunting in another post since it’s always interesting to me to read what folks are looking at, looking for, etc.

I’ve been slowly taking stuff home over the last month. Ten years of stuff in two of my own small tack sheds? It adds up fast. I have a pile I need to list online, the bare minimum stuff still at the barn, and sort of tentative plans of what will live in my trailer. (Plus a chunk of the garage.. er.. ok, the entire garage floor right now is claimed by my pony stuff. Oops.) But the trailer has to get a few repairs done, so no sense moving things in yet, but I need to call and schedule that now that the pony move isn’t up in limbo any more. One step at a time.

So: friends, bloggers, commenters. What do you keep in your tack trunks? What are your must-haves? Send photos, tack trunk recommendations, everything! This is totally new territory for me and I’m going to throw all my anxious energy the next few weeks into figuring it out.

Confetti has always been the most surefooted of the ponies. I tell her roughly where to go, she figures out the exact path, everyone’s happy. I do overrule occasionally, but for the most part, she has excellent trail sense. I’ve ridden her through rather a lot of things that I probably shouldn’t have, most notably assisting with trail trials one spring right after a major rainstorm, sliding down our big hill on the way home. I’m not terribly surefooted in questionable footing. I’m usually safer on her than off.

We took Fetti and my friend’s mare into the park this weekend. It rained Friday, and more rain expected Sunday, so let’s make sure we get out on Saturday! Sure it might be a little muddy, but staying in the flat section of the park should be fine. I’ve done this in years past between rains, or in the rains, never been a problem. Should be a nice straightforward walk through the park, right?

It was a little odd when we found slick mud on the first small hill, and then in one or two spots thereafter. Nothing major. Enough to inspire caution and a note to not ride down the last section on the way back. Why tempt fate? We could hand-walk that. But mostly it was our delightfully mellow post-rain ride with a few too many people for our taste.

As per usual, we headed for home. Mostly flat. Couple small downhills. Slow and easy, no rush, we’re out! And so it was that Fetti picked her path down a small hill right at the uphill edge of the trail, perhaps more in dirt than trail, and she couldn’t keep her feet under her. She slipped and fell, very politely dropping me off to the right at the uphill bank. I suspect I went forwards over her shoulder and connected my shoulder with the ground. I can’t say exactly how but she somehow managed not to end up on me. Instead she went down a little further over on the trail, paused, gathered herself up, and stood up to wait for me.

My friend hopped off and grabbed Fetti (probably unnecessarily – she wasn’t going anywhere!) and we assessed. Horse looks fine. Rider looks fine, if slightly covered in mud in a few spots. I’ll check again today but it appears we both got out of this uninjured. My shoulder is a little sore. That’s it. We had a nice uneventful ride back home and I handwalked all the very slight downhills.

Looking at it afterwards, I’m still not sure why the park felt so slick. I don’t know if this is fires/ash related, or if it’s genuinely just Fetti getting older and not handling the hills with as much grace. I do know we’re not heading back out today after the overnight rain.

On the bright side, hitting the ground is a lot easier when the horse is already most of the way down.

A couple months ago – pre-fire – I caught word that a German vet was coming out to the barn to do bodywork on several horses. Acupuncture, chiropractic, massage, etc. He came highly recommended by another trusted boarder. I added Confetti to his list. She’s 24, it’s been a few years since she was last worked on, it seemed like a good idea.

The vet was delightfully thorough. He watched her move out, assessed full body, took history. Some notes:

Her left hind is the suspensory injury from getting her head stuck in the fence three years ago. He thought it looked more like a superficial tendon injury. Reality is it doesn’t matter much for the level of work (light!) she’s engaged in, and she’s sufficiently sound and recovered.

He did chiropractic adjustments at her jaw and her poll, noted a bit of restricted movement at her jaw.

My partner got a direct quote when I trotted Fetti out – “Not bad for a 24 year old. Good very nice. You got a solid horse there.” High praise indeed.

Her left hip drops when she walks. This is what I and others have felt for a few years. It’s not super major and I could do more about it if I really get her back in working shape and not retirement shape. He did a chiropractic adjustment at her hindquarters and noted she’s high at her left hind. (I’m translating notes four months later that were taken by my non-horsey partner; he does pretty well but some of the nuances get lost in translation back and forth.) Overall, noted tight lower neck and tight lumbar.

We moved to acupuncture. I appreciated the variety of modalities he brought to the table! Right top of shoulder and lower neck, right front leg, both hinds lower hock joint, behind the knee right front, left shoulder. With the needles all set up, he went ahead and used a laser on her right front knee. This is the first vet visit I’ve had that called out likely arthritis in that joint. The original injury is LH, so RF is likely compensatory. Left hind is a little irregular but not bad, slight lumbar tightness left rear likely also compensatory.

Fetti’s 24. I have chronic pain. It’s always delightfully surprising when there are medical visits that end in “yep, carry on as you’re doing.” Nothing terribly wrong. No new problems. I appreciate a vet that acknowledges workload and age when assessing movement and injury, I’m probably a little pickier on what acceptable lameness is than he was, but overall: amazing. He didn’t have time to fit Polly in on this visit but I’ll be following up to get her on the schedule next time he’s out.

1. When you’re worried about losing the barn and the town, the stuff in the tack room suddenly matters a lot less. Horses had a ride out. Cats were the next level of concern. I threw a bunch of tack in my truck as an afterthought, when I had time to kill waiting for the trailer, and I kept coming back to “this is all replaceable.” Yes, it would suck, but it’s just stuff. I did regret not grabbing my tie-dye pad, though, as I can’t find a replacement for that anywhere. That goes on the list for next time.
2. Horses loaded, no questions asked, straight into the trailer at the barn, and to my knowledge unloaded politely at the evac barn. Horses loaded back up for the way home, no questions asked, though they threw a bit of a fit when we paused to pick up a friend’s horse for the third slot. Fetti was the worst offender, pawing and throwing her weight around when we stopped. Not impressed. Polly unloaded at a strange barn so that we could load the Giant Draft Gelding into the middle slot, then politely hopped right back into the third slot. Good mare.
3. Fetti stressed hard at the evac barn. She felt responsible for the other horses. She dropped weight and she called whenever any of the others went out of sight. Hindsight: ulcer meds would have been kind, and I should stock calming supplements/ulcergard/something for flood season.
4. Both mares tolerated being in a 12×12 pen for a few weeks with daily pasture turnouts when I was there. They only escaped out once, and after that I tied their gates shut with the halters and lead ropes. It’s not a situation I’d choose for them, and I had a few strangers at the evac barn offer pasture if we were to stay much longer, so points for Haffie cuteness?
5. Polly stuck close to Fetti when exploring around the “pasture”. Neither tested the fences. Good ponies.
6. Post-evacuation, I was heading to the barn AM/PM since our usual morning folks were still evacuated and dealing with their own family things. While I am capable of doing this and I’m grateful work was flexible, it’s not sustainable for me and I rejoiced in the break from the commute once they returned.
7. It was truly astonishing to see friends come out of the woodwork to check on us, several former trainers, coworkers, friends. I keep Facebook active primarily for pony updates these days and kept them coming constantly for a few weeks to keep folks informed.
8. Now that I have a truck with a tow hitch, I need to be comfortable hauling a trailer. Evacuations are the wrong time to learn and I’m grateful it didn’t come to that. It was questionable for a bit.

These are not the lessons I was hoping to get from this year, but so goes 2020. We’re all safe. I’m grateful.

On Tuesday, I headed out to the barn’s area. It was sunny and nice at home further north. When I stepped out of the truck, I tasted smoke. One more errand, and I headed back to the barn watching a blood-red sun set in the sky. I was in San Francisco during the awful smoke from the Paradise fires two years ago. Tuesday evening I had the same “this is wrong” gut feeling as I did in SF that year. We patted ponies on the nose and headed home, too smoky to ask them to do anything, too anxious to ask us to do anything.

Tuesday night, my friends in Boulder Creek evacuated on not very much notice.

Wednesday morning, I worked on wrapping up work stuff. I’d taken Thursday and Friday off for a mental break; my last vacation was in December. I texted back and forth a bit and offered help. I packed the cat carriers in the truck in case it looked like we needed to evacuate the barn cats.. if we could even catch them.

Wednesday around noon a barn friend texted me that we were evacuating. I quit work seconds later and my partner and I headed down to the barn as I coordinated with my usual riding friend. Her husband would take the first load of ponies.. somewhere. One location sounded full. I sourced another, called, confirmed they could take at least four. Sharpied names and phone numbers on three of four pony butts before the trailer arrived, loaded up my two, sent them off. I loaded a bale of hay in the truck and a bunch of stuff in the back seat, plus the one cat in carrier we’d caught. It was not the most logical packing I’ve ever done.

I helped with the second load of ponies (headed to my friend’s house) and offered help once there. Have truck, will haul. The evacuations were early and out of caution. They weren’t ready to pack up and leave yet. I checked on my two (further away), picked up my partner, headed back to the barn for caught cat #2, and went home. Hindsight: I should have filled the truck with hay. But we were tired and not thinking clearly.

Thursday morning I got the call to come help. My partner met sheep and goats for the first time outside of petting zoos. We loaded everyone up in trailers, crates, water buckets, panels.. hobby farms with critters can’t easily just load up and go. We were out soon after they called for mandatory evac, and settled her farm at a friend’s place. Patted ponies on nose, confirmed they weren’t causing problems, went home.

Apocalypse day three – Friday? Who even knows what day it is anymore. (I woke up today thinking it was Sunday. It’s Saturday.) Roads are closed into town. There’s a bit of smoke at home, but you can see the sky. Checked on friends (coping, mostly have places to go, mostly in shock and despair) and drove out in the evening to groom my two. Grooming bag was a last-minute addition to the truck, and a good one. Lots of normal boarders there when I went, so lots of introductions and social anxiety. Polly contemplated jumping out of the paddock on day one, but didn’t do it. Both are EDPP well. Fetti’s rubbing out her mane. I flagged Polly as a good one if they want to get her out for walks, and reassured that her midday naps are totally normal. Fetti’s done enough random travel that she’s totally fine, and she’s being an excellent role model for Polly.

I am grateful for horses that loaded right up and settled in to a strange place with no drama. I am grateful that we got the barn cats out and they’re settled in my spare bathroom until it’s safe for them to go home. I am grateful my home is out of the evacuation zone and almost certainly not at risk, though anything can happen now.

I moved down to Santa Cruz for school twelve years ago. I stayed afterwards in the mountain town north of the city. It’s home to me still, even as we’re living somewhere else. I’m watching reports and waiting to see if friends lose their homes. My farrier’s property is burned but at last check, the house was standing. Most others I know are still waiting.

The fire is 5% contained as of this morning’s report. This is the worst fire these mountains have dealt with in a very long time, if ever. Usually one spot burns, and we roll with it, it sucks but that’s mountain living. The entire mountain community is evacuated north of the city, multiple towns, all the way out to the coast. We are not prepared for a fire of this magnitude. There are not enough fire crews for the number and size of fires in California right now.

Yesterday I bought a cat tree and pillows for the barn cats, and doubled my food and litter order for the house. I realized I didn’t grab fly spray or braiding supplies. I put in my first “barn evacuees” order. I was going to fix Polly’s mane bags this weekend, and instead I’m going to throw money at a new set. My head is full. My heart hurts.

Lightning started this whole thing last weekend and is back in the forecast this weekend. I’m done with this year. I don’t like it. I don’t like our odds. I’m terrified and heartbroken for my friends with property and houses in the area. I’m mourning the redwoods already burned at Big Basin, though reports are mixed as to how bad it is.

This was a good year to buy a truck.

This is the worst vacation I’ve ever had.