 by Dr. Robert L. Leonard, DVM
"Equine Notes"
© 2003
Dr. Leonard has been out of town for several weeks, but I
think I have an idea of what his "Equine Notes" topic would be
this week.
Teresa Ledbetter has been responding
to the practise's calls in his absence, and she sent me a
message a couple of weeks ago. The "Missouri Horse Country"
had experienced the first real cold snap of the winter, and
Teresa wrote that she was kept hopping the entire weekend,
responding to one emergency colic call after another. She
referred the callers to other veterinarians in their area. Of
course, it always happens on a weekend . . . The single
greatest danger to otherwise healthy horses is colic. And
the time when the colic risk is greatest is when the weather
is cold.
Her letter set me to thinking,
"You know, Dr. Leonard has probably written a hundred 'Equine
Notes' columns about colic, and this must be the reason." It
must be because every winter, when the first cold snap hits,
he is run ragged responding to one colic call after another.
And it's all because horses don't like to drink cold water, or
because they can't get to water at all because it's frozen.
Well, all that thinking made me remember when we lost a filly
to colic on the Lazy R Ranch. I remembered Dad telling me the
story about the time that LRR Dixie had suddenly come down
with colic, relating the story as an insight into what kind of
Veterinarian that Dr. Leonard is.
You see, Dad
had raised horses since the 1930's. His father was a
"half-breed," half Indian and half deep-roots Indiana Hoosier
pioneer. He had learned early - and passed on to me - his
father's special respect and love for horses, and wore his
native ancestry with pride. I probably don't know much about
horses, probably less than any of you, but I have heard a
little about "imprinting" a foal at birth. Well, Gramps did
something like that with me when I was about two and a half
years old. I can still clearly remember the experience, my
very earliest memory in life.
"Gramps" and I
were facing each other in the paddock, I was standing and he
was kneeling beside a mare, her right flank at my left
shoulder. She had very recently foaled, and Gramps was holding
an old single-eared tin cup from the windmill well, the
old-fashioned kind with blue enamel and white flecks. As I
looked up at bottom of the mare's belly, Gramps reached out
and drew some of her milk, and made me drink it. I will never
forget the savor or the smell: it tasted as sweet as pancake
syrup with an aromatic after-taste of dried hay. And I
developed a bond with horses, Gramps had "imprinted" me. I
think it may have been some old Native-American custom, or
maybe that was just my boyhood imagination run wild (but I
still fancy the notion).
When I moved to
Missouri a couple of years ago, Dad told me that "his
HorseDoc" was the best equine veterinarian there ever was, and
this type of praise did not come lightly from RD Rector. RD
had routinely criticized another veterinarian, often saying
that the horses being treat had more sense than the vet doing
the treating (primarily a bovine vet, he had broken the neck
of a colt during a difficult birth). And to make his point
about Dr. Leonard, he told me a story about a filly Dr.
Leonard had treated, Lazy R Ranch Dixie. Like memories that
never die of syrupy sweet mare's milk with an aromatic hint of
dried alfalfa, Dad's narration of this bittersweet tale just
keeps haunting me . . .
I thought I would
share it with you, for the benefit of those of you on the
Horsedoc subscription list who may not have had the
opportunity to personally know Dr. Leonard, and what type of
Horsedoc he is . . .
I asked my stepmother,
Audrey Rector, to retell the story of Lazy R Ranch's Dixie. It
was a painful memory for her, perhaps I asked too much, but it
seemed important to me to share this with you. Please bear in
mind that Miss Audrey is not a professional writer, but she
entertained my wishes anyway.
This
is what she wrote to me . . .
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Farewell little Dixie . . .
by Audrey Rector
Dixie was born April 30, 1997. She was our tenth and final
foal for the year, out of our ten bred mares. You might say
that it is great to have all live foals, and every mare
delivering full-term. Well, yes, but we had only two fillies
that spring, which was a little
disappointing.
As a young foal Dixie was very
shy, she would run like a frightened bunny if anyone came near
her. All the other babies would fight for some hands-on
attention. I could sense even at that newborn age that Dixie
was going to be a challenge.
Dixie had her
first bout of colic at about 12 months of age. I brought her
into the barn and gave her a small amount of Bute. Being a
person that dearly loves my horses, I was up and out at the
barn many times during the night to check on her. Fortunately
she showed no more signs of colic all night. The next morning
I fed her in her stall, gave her fresh water and decided it
was time for Dixie to learn that humans were not threats, but
friends.
I sat in her stall for what seemed
like hours while she was slowly-cautiously-feeding. She would
take a little bite, and then suddenly turn to face me, giving
me her ‘don't even dare to move’ look. I gathered a
small halter, lead rope and brush and trapped her in a corner
of the stall. After getting the halter on Dixie, I held her
still for a few minutes. We played that eternally favorite
game of horses and puppy dogs ‘tug of war’ but I finally won
out. After letting her smell the brush, I started brushing
her.
Wide-eyed, she continually pulled back
from me as I continued to brush her. It took a good week, with
lots of patient reassurance and whispering, before Dixie began
to trust me. And it wasn't easy (I had a few rope burns and
lots of bruises), but Dixie and I soon became the very best of
buddies. While leading her, she would follow me like a puppy.
Whenever I entered the barn or the paddock, she was always the
first horse at my side after that. Of course, she thought she
owned me instead of the other way around. As she stood by my
side, staring up at me with those big velvety brown eyes, I
often wondered what she was thinking. Dixie continued to be a
little shy and skittish around strangers, but any time I
called her name she would come running to
me.
Dick and I always named our babies at
birth, and constantly called them by name as we stroked and
petted them. As they learned their names, they would respond
when we call them. Although Dixie had been leery of humans,
with the other horses she was ‘a social butterfly.’ She was
accepted by all the horses; they would even allow her to share
grain with them and their foals!
Feb 7, 1999While sitting on the back deck one
afternoon watching all the horses run and play, as usual Dixie
was at the head of the pack. Retrieving my handy-cam, I
started to record a video of them. They were such a pleasure
to watch. Then, suddenly, Dixie laid down and rolled. We
watched her for a couple minutes, and I knew something was
wrong. I put the halter on her and we took a walk, although
she wasn't too excited and still kicked her belly, wanting to
roll again. Dixie was turned back into her stall. But because
she didn't show any more signs of colic, I decided she was
only hungry, and I gave her a little handful of grain.
Yes, I knew one doesn’t feed a horse with
colic, but I simply thought she was acting up earlier. We
continued with the rest of our chores, but when we were
finished I went back to check on Dixie before going into the
house for our evening meal. Dixie was standing in the corner
of her stall, her head hung but still not showing any other
signs of colic. I gave her a little Bute hoping she would be
all right. I sat in the stall with her for several hours,
until 10 p.m. Finally, she laid down and seemed to be asleep
and resting quietly.
At two a.m. that morning
Dick went out to check on the horses. He found Dixie rolling
again. We gave her a shot of Banimine, hoping it would calm
her until Dr. Leonard arrived. Dr. Leonard had been up all
night with several other emergency calls [colic calls?]. I
left an urgent message on his answering machine describing our
concern for Dixie. He arrived at our place just about
day break . . .
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