How do horses feel knowing that automotive has replaced them? Is it why they have this saddened face? (Quora)

I doubt that many living horses have been replaced by automobiles. It is true that Her Late Majesty Queen Elizabeth II had long since, through age, given up riding a horse at the annual Trooping the Colour parade, but to the best of my recollection she had continued to use horse-drawn carriages for other ceremonial occasions in London.

Horses are just better at pageantry than motor vehicles, and tedious parades of mechanical weaponry are really best left to unimaginative foreign dictators who like that sort of thing, and to their oppressed subjects who seem to appreciate it..

Until well into the twentieth century the horse was integral to society. Specialised breeds of horses could do everything from pulling logs out of barely-accessible forestry plantations to carrying elegant ladies side-saddle on fashionable excursions down Rotten Row. Cavalry horses, well used, would regularly turn the tide of land battles, while draught horses transported everything, everywhere, including providing the source of power for canal barges during the Industrial Revolution. Plough horses were vital to agriculture; race horses provided a principal source of entertainment that enthralled everyone from dukes to dockers.

I once tried to illustrate some of the varieties of equestrian leisure in a cartoon:

But it is a mistake to conceive of a horse as having an extensive capacity for abstract thought. His world revolves around the food, stabling, exercise, care and attention that he receives from his owners or grooms. He has no trouble communicating his likes and dislikes in respect of that treatment. He knows whether he is treated well or neglected. He knows his rank in the domestic herd: he does not know how important his ancestors were to our ancestors. He knows if he is good at what he does, and he may well appreciate praise for a top class performance, but he does not know that the role of the horse in society has changed, is changing, and will continue to change.

So, while it may or may not be true that in a specific employment a machine might be more economical, to my mind, people who think that horses can always be replaced must be people who have never worked with horses.

And the reason a horse needs a long face should be obvious. This is Buster. He is not sad.

Red Returns

Here is something I hope may be found an inspirational photograph.

Six months after a sustaining a life-threatening joint-puncture injury in a field accident, after an operation to flush infection etc. out of the wound, (including doubts as to whether he would ever walk out of the equine hospital), box rest, convalescence, field rest and so on, here is Red under saddle again for the first time.

Just five minutes walking around the manege to remind him he's a big strong horse who can still carry his rider easily.

He really loved being back. It's good for his ego and prestige in the herd; working horses automatically get extra kudos and license to show off.


Now fingers crossed for no adverse reaction!

Rewiring the equine brain

A newspaper article took my eye today, about the capacity of the human brain to rewire itself after a brain haemorrhage.

It put me in mind of an episode from the later life of Pat (foreground), which I should perhaps record because I thought it so unusual.

When he was already quite old for a thoroughbred, Pat suffered a stroke one day while out in the field with his pals. We realised there was something wrong when he remained lying down when all the others gathered at the gate to come in to their stables.

I took a halter and went to see what was wrong. Though at that point he did not seem especially distressed, he was at first unable to get to his feet. Eventually he managed it with a struggle. Then I discovered he couldn’t walk. It took a long time to encourage him out of the field. He finally settled on a crabwise motion and seemed to have pretty well lost the use of his nearside hind leg. Once he was in his stable, other disturbing symptoms appeared.

The vet was promptly summoned. He prescribed medication and told us if the horse lived through the night he would survive. When I asked about the leg, he replied that the area of the brain controlling the nearside hind was gone beyond recovery, but another part of the brain would evolve the capacity to take over this necessary function. I’d never heard of anything like this.

Following the vet’s instructions we nursed Pat through the next couple of days in his stable and then took him out to the field. All symptoms other than the leg paralysis had now disappeared. He was even able to walk more or less in a straight line without weight-bearing on the damaged leg. However as soon as he saw his pals in the field he decided he would canter over to them. Because only one hind leg was pushing him forward he almost went sideways. This obviously surprised him, but since he could stand, walk and graze he was much happier out than in his stable.

To cut a long story short, things turned out exactly as the vet had predicted. The damaged leg had swollen and never went all the way back to its normal size and it also took a long time to heal the suppurating sore that developed on the cannon-bone while he was semi-incapacitated, but gradually he recovered the use of the leg and even the ability to canter in a straight line.

I have no idea who may be interested in this story, but I felt |I should tell it anyway.

Veterinary Bulletin

Red is in the final week of convalescence. He is led out to the grass three times a day, both for the purpose of strengthening his fetlock by walking and readjusting his system to a grass diet.

So far this programme's progressing well, though the occasional 'whoopidoo!' bucks are becoming a bit difficult to hold on to. I'm not sure those were, strictly speaking, included in the schedule.

Anyway he stays out up to 30 minutes on at least one of these expeditions per day, weather and midges permitting.

I don't recall a year like this one for midges. Clouds of these annoying beasties are so thick you're almost lucky not to be breathing them in. I expect they'll persist until the frosts put a close to their activities.

On the other hand, once again it proved impossible to cut the winter field for hay, so when the herd moves across from the summer field they'll find the grass still thick, if reduced in nutrition because of the lateness of the season.

Meanwhile, in defiance of strict instructions that only one animal at a time is allowed to be sick, Mac the Dogue suffered a flare-up of infection in his damaged leg. (He has a bald patch resulting from an old operation scar, and since he is a very hashy-bashy-tearing-through-the- undergrowth animal he keeps scratching it.)

So he needed an emergency trip to the vet on Saturday. He's now progressing well on medication but hates having to wear a Buster collar to prevent him licking the wound.

Equine Injury

This is Red, the current herd boss.

Unfortunately he doesn't  look quite so spry at the moment because he picked up a puncture wound in a hind fetlock joint that somehow stove in a cubic centimetre of bone and then became infected.

Horse people will know that bad damage to a leg is potentially fatal to a horse. Fortunately we have reasonably locally the services of a first class equine specialist veterinary practice. They performed keyhole surgery to flush the infection.



After his period in hospital Red is now home again and on compulsory box rest because excessive activity with all that missing bone might set him back to square one.

Red hates this. During the day a rota of companions has been organised for him in our centrally-divided double stable. He's a good patient, all things considered, but he doesn't mind letting me know how displeased he is by a periodic ears back or a longing look at the field into which others are unfairly allowed.

He doesn't necessarily believe it's for his own good.

Kids, huh?

Goodbye Buster

Foaled 1989 died 22 November 2014.

I bought Buster at auction in 1993 with the last bid I could afford. He was my riding club horse as well as a point to point racehorse. He was in professional training with three different trainers and twice placed third in novice steeplechases over two miles before his impoverished owner ran out of the wherewithal to pay training fees.

He remained in good health to the last, having almost miraculously recovered from a stroke a few years ago that initially almost paralysed his near hind leg. Just a few days ago we were commenting on how well he was doing for his age. Fine last night at supper time. Found dead in his stable this morning.

Along with his stablemates, his relevance to my writing is there in every description of horses and riding.

A very good friend of mine.  R.I.P.