Mindless Ramblings

As I write this, I should be on my way to New Jersey for the National Standardbred Horse Show, primed to see all my friends and add more accolades to my wonderful old mare's collection.  Or at least at the local show about an hour down the parkway, getting more mileage and experience for my would be show prospect.  Instead, I am at home in a quiet house, letting my mind wander over roads both traveled and untraveled.

I am continuing to read journal articles and trying to solve the complex HSS puzzle, namely what triggers Larry's fits.  I'm trying to keep up the motivation to continue riding and working with him, but it's hard to persevere when I feel like it only serves to frustrate the both of us.  Riding has become a series of neural experiments instead of a pleasurable activity and showing seems like a fruitless endeavor for us both.  My latest experiment focused on revisiting bitting and the effects of the fly mask.  I tried him in the curved sweet iron bit that he seemed to accept the best, sans mask or nose net.  Mild headshaking showed up after a few warm up laps at the walk on a loose rein.  I fitted his fly mask over the bridle.  This mask is his daily one, made of fine mesh, as opposed to the more traditional coarse mesh mask that hadn't yielded any difference when I lunged him in it.  With the fine mesh mask, he was more rideable than without it, though certainly not "cured."  The previous day, I had ridden him in the fine mesh mask in combination with his nose net and he was again relatively rideable. 

I pondered what these additional findings meant, and it was actually J who helped me make the association - wind.  Air movement across the face and in the nostrils seems to be Larry's primary trigger.  He isn't photic from what I can tell - the coarse mask didn't help, and his attacks don't seem to change day or night.  But the fine mask did help some, and it would block more wind than the coarse mask.  Likewise, the organdy nose net helps some, and it blocks some breeze on and in the nose.  The attacks get worse the harder he works, and especially about cantering, and working at speed produces more wind movement across the face and through the netting.  This would also explain some of the inconsistencies I saw when I first started using the nose net - I wasn't exactly tracking or monitoring wind speed, why he would have fits in certain arenas or areas without an obvious pattern, and why the tulle nose nets were less effective than the organdy ones.  Franklin County, where he was like a different horse, has an arena that is bunkered by earth tiers on all sides.  Coupled with his nose net, that would make for minimal breezes across his face.  Grant County, where he was also nearly symptom-free, was a very hot and muggy day - the type where the wind is still and thick.  The first time at Henry County, the outdoor warmup area likely had more breezes than the covered arena where he was better,  The second time at Henry County, with his nose net, he was better in the earlier hunt seat classes, but terrible in his later western class after a strong and windy storm system had rolled through.  This may also explain the day on the lunge line early in the Spring when he bucked repeatedly and bolted, a season that is notorious for wind.

Looking back, when I first got him in the fall/winter I thought he was bothered by his mane and forelock tickling his ears and face, so I started braiding it out of the way.  Now I realize that was his HSS coming out.  I was able to get some more information from one of his previous riders.  It turns out that he has had the same head tic and foot flipping symptoms for years, and his behavior on the track seems indicative of HSS, too.  She, like my initial assessment, thought he was just being stubborn and temperamental.  Because she only rode him periodically, she was unable to determine if there was seasonality to his symptoms.  She did indicate that he used to canter readily under saddle, but became less willing and more rebellious about it over time.  I worry that his condition will worsen over time.  I worry that at the end of it, I'll still have a horse plagued by phantoms and unable to cope with the demands of regular riding and showing.  I worry that what should be fun will only be torture for us both.  I worry that I am chasing answers more elusive than the wind that seems to set him off.


I started him on melatonin this week.  It may help seasonally affected headshakers, as it essentially fools the body into thinking that it is winter (thus stopping the surge of GnRH that prompts estrous in mares and sperm production in stallions.  Geldings lack the testosterone or estrogen surge that shuts the GnRH off, and GnRH's vasodilating effects is one possible theory for idiopathic headshaking)  It also offers some possible neuroprotective properties.  I'm not optimistic that it will work, as I have a feeling that he's untimately afflicted year-round, but it's one more thing to test and confirm or rule out.  Ultimately, I'm not sure how much I want to put him or myself through, chasing down what may be a winless battle.  Only time will tell, I suppose.  I've been seeking another show horse since 2005 or so, and I'm starting to feel like it's simply not meant to be.  I know Legs is one in a million and I'll never find her equal, but sound, sane, and trainable would be a nice start.

So here I sit, typing and rambling, sore from an evening spent pulling weeds in the fields, yet sadly with more satisfaction from that chore than riding, showing, or racing have brought me in many months.  I'm throwing myself a pity party tonight, admission for one human and a sad and motley assortment of down and out animals - Legs with her fragile feet but enduring heart, Larry with his beautiful face and involuntary head tic, Josie the flea allergic dog who can't stop scratching herself, Junior the herpes infected kitten who's amazingly still alive 13 months after I found him and thought him marked for death, Bob the FIV positive stray who's now living in (and making a mess of) my basement, Maya the 13 year old curmudgeon who can no longer thrive as a barn cat and now lives in the guest room.  Please, no more broken animals; I just can't do it anymore.