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When All You Want to Do is Ride!

When I was a child, I spent most of my time looking for horses I could be with – and ideally ride. I had become friends with Bertil, who owned several horses. In addition to his own, he often took in horses for training or driving. He also had mares come to his stallion, and they would often stay on his pastures all summer to ensure they became pregnant.

This meant Bertil had paddocks scattered all over the place. This was in Blekinge, near the Småland border, an area with lots of forests and rocks. You had to make the most of the small patches of grass here and there.

That summer, Bertil had taken in a young stallion he was training to drive. Everyone who left their horses with Bertil usually said, “That girl can ride them a bit too, to get them used to it.” Naturally, I was more than happy to help! If the horses had already been worked a little in harness, it was rarely a problem to ride them as well.

Bertil had been working with the stallion for a while, and I had ridden him a few times. He was super calm and willing. Then Bertil decided the stallion could go out to pasture for a while to let what he’d learned sink in. The pasture was quite far from my home, but I didn’t see that as a problem. I had my legs to walk on and all the time in the world!

The stallion was turned out on a pasture on the other side of Rude Lake, where we used to swim. I had almost three kilometers to walk down to the lake. Once there, I would take a boat we kept by the shore and row across to the other side – quite a long way, actually. From the shore, it was only about 500 meters to the pasture.

I had borrowed a bridle so I could ride the stallion a little while he was out on the pasture. Riding him in the paddock worked fine. The stallion was friendly and came over to me when I arrived. I put on the bridle, found a rock to climb up on, and mounted. He accepted it all calmly, and I started to let him walk a bit in the paddock.

At first, everything went well, but he wasn’t fully trained yet, and soon he started heading off in his own direction. His pasture buddy, finding this very entertaining, suddenly began galloping around. The stallion decided to join in the fun, launching into a series of bucks that caught me completely off guard.

I flew off in a wide arc and landed on my back in a patch of nettles and blackberry bushes. Luckily, I missed the large rocks in the paddock – otherwise, it could have ended badly. I could barely move, but I managed to get to my feet eventually. I was sore all over and covered in stings from the nettles and scratches from the brambles.

But my first thought was still: I need to get the bridle off the stallion so he doesn’t hurt himself!

Fortunately, the horses had calmed down, and I managed to catch the stallion without too much trouble and remove the bridle. After that, I hobbled back to the boat, rowed across the lake, and walked the three kilometers home to our summer cottage – bruised and battered.

When my mom saw me, she immediately knew something was wrong. I had to convince her it wasn’t so bad. Imagine if she had forbidden me from riding again – that would have been a disaster!

Bertil never found out that I’d been thrown. I simply told him that maybe it was a good idea for the stallion to have a proper break while he was out on pasture. When the stallion returned, I rode him again, and it went much better when his pasture buddy wasn’t running loose beside us.

We riders are tough, and I often look back on how much I’ve endured for my love of horses. But it has always been worth it!

The photo is from the early 70s where I am riding a North Swedish Stallion Hamn. The saddel is from the arme and not very comfortable:)

Do Your Horses Have Mud Fever?

Mud fever and scratches are very common in horses, especially if you live in a place with rainy and mild winters. I’ve lived in different places and have noticed a huge difference in how easily my horses got mud fever.

For 20 years, I lived in northern Skåne, Sweden, where we had major issues. It was a marshy area with frequent rain, and we had wetlands nearby. Even though we had large, beautiful pastures, the horses often stood by the gates, churning up the ground and ending up standing in mud up to their knees. When we built our paddock paradise, we poured a large concrete area where the horses had their feeding station. It was absolutely necessary; otherwise, they wouldn’t have had a dry place to stand.

Even though we did everything we could for the horses’ well-being, they often got mud fever. The weather made it so that their legs were almost always damp, which caused the mud fever to become a recurring issue – something that was challenging for both the horses and us.

What’s interesting is that when you ask others – veterinarians, farriers, or breeders – for advice on how to prevent mud fever, you’ll always get different answers. Some say you should wash the horses’ legs daily when you bring them in, while others say you shouldn’t touch their legs too much because scrubbing the skin can open it up to bacteria. You’re left to experiment and find what works best for your horses.

I think I’ve tried everything: mud fever ointments that turned into sticky layers collecting dirt; drying the legs; washing the legs – but what worked best for us was Blåsten or Virkon S.

I discovered that if you mix Blåsten with water and put it in a spray bottle, you can spray the horses’ legs daily, which helped keep the mud fever somewhat under control. At one point, I even had to sell a horse at a very low price because he couldn’t handle our pastures. His legs swelled up like telephone poles, and no treatment worked. Thankfully, he went to a better place where the ground was drier, with healthier soil bacteria than we had. Keeping horses indoors all the time isn’t a solution either – it stresses them out, and they need to move to maintain proper blood circulation in their legs.

Why Am I Writing About This Now?

Well, good things happen in life, and there are actually people researching ways to help horses with this issue. Some time ago, I came across a group of people who had developed a unique product for mud fever. I was very curious about it, and now that it has been tested and proven effective, I can confirm that it really works!

The best part is that I am now sponsored by FHORZE, the company behind this product, and I can help spread the word about how we can finally get rid of mud fever. I know that many people need this product, so I plan to host giveaways soon where you can win “Muggfri.”

I’m truly excited to present this product, which I believe will help people and horses all over the world.

I Got a Horse!

It’s not that uncommon to get a horse, but as the saying goes: “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” This refers to the fact that gifted horses are often old, injured, or otherwise unwanted – usually more of an expense than a blessing. However, it’s quite rare to receive a healthy, young horse with a pedigree. Here’s the story of how I was gifted a magnificent Arabian horse – completely free of charge!

I was working as a saddler in Mörrum, staying busy sewing and repairing to make ends meet. It wasn’t just for me, but also for my horses, dog, and cat. That’s why I always appreciated it when someone recommended new customers to me.

One of my friends, Ove, was someone I had met during leatherwork courses I taught for AOF. He also rented stables from me for his trotting horses. One day, he suggested that I contact a man named Tom, who owned Arabian horses. Ove thought Tom might have some work for me.

I called Tom, and it turned out he was extremely busy but indeed had plenty of jobs for me. He asked if I could pick up the items that needed repair, as he didn’t have time to drop them off himself. I didn’t mind, so I went to Tom’s place and collected blankets and halters. Eventually, I also started getting orders for custom halters for his Arabians since the standard ones didn’t fit. Arabians have much smaller noses, and the foals couldn’t wear regular foal halters as they were way too big. Later, I even got to make show bridles, which I absolutely loved – crafting such fine items instead of patching up old harnesses with baling twine and wire!

Ove, who had a great sense of humor, was happy that I was getting so much work. But he joked that, since I was doing such an excellent job, I should ask Tom to give me a horse as part of our deals.

We laughed at the idea since Tom’s horses were incredibly fine and expensive.

One day, I was returning a batch of blankets to Tom. I was running a bit late, and we crossed paths on the road as he was heading out. We both stopped on either side of the road, and I got out to talk to him. I remember it was raining quite heavily. Tom instructed me on where to leave the blankets and complimented my quick repairs. After discussing the blankets, I jokingly said:
“Well, Ove thinks I should get a horse as part of the deal since I’ve been doing such great work!”

I laughed, but Tom looked serious.
“Oh, does he now? Then we’d better find you a horse. But I need to run now,” he said before driving off.

I stood there in the rain, jaw practically hitting the ground. Had I heard him correctly, or was he joking?

The next time we spoke, I had to ask him.
“Did you really mean it?”
“Of course,” he replied. “Come by on Saturday, and we’ll find you one!”

I was still skeptical but decided to go. I thought it would probably be a foal with some defect or a lame horse.

When I arrived, Tom pointed out a young colt that looked like it had grown too quickly and was a bit scruffy. But before I could say anything, he shook his head and pointed to another horse.
“No, it’s this one!”

There stood an absolutely stunning horse.
“That’s Argentina’s foal,” he said.

I didn’t know much about Arabians, but I did know that Argentina was a mare he had bought from Poland a few years earlier for a six-figure sum.

And that’s how I became the owner of an Arabian horse. I named him Mandoza, after Mendoza, the capital of Argentina.

In the picture, you can see Mandoza wearing one of the halters I made back then.

Christmas in Australia!

I am constantly seeking new adventures, and my biggest fear is being bored!
In 1980, I traveled to Australia to stay there for six months. I had met a couple who lived there when they visited Sweden. They had previously worked at High Chaparral, where I also worked, and they were visiting old friends. Of course, I had to ask them about life “Down Under,” and before I knew it, I had been invited to visit!

That’s not something you say to me without me taking it seriously! I started saving money, and after a year, I had enough for a plane ticket. It felt like an amazing opportunity, especially since traveling to Australia wasn’t very common back then. We stayed in touch, and soon, the plans for my trip to Australia were in full swing.

A lot happened during those six months, but today, I’ve chosen to tell you about Christmas, not about the horses, since it’s that time of year right now.

It was a Swedish couple I was visiting, so the Christmas traditions were almost the same as I was used to. What didn’t quite match, though, was the temperature. Christmas in Australia falls during summer, and it’s very warm. You might not think about it, but it’s quite hard to get into the Christmas spirit when summer is in full swing, the grass is green, and the sun is blazing high in the sky.

Willy and Rosie did their best with Swedish Christmas food, and in the morning, Willy came in with an axe and handed it to me.
“You can go out and find a Christmas tree,” he said.

That was probably the strangest feeling I’ve ever had—walking outside with an axe in 30-degree heat to find something that looked like a Christmas tree. The result can be seen in the picture. When I came back with a bush, they thought I had done an excellent job, and Willy made a stand for it.

We didn’t have much to decorate it with, but we improvised and found a few things to hang on it, including a Danish flag I had brought with me for some odd reason. 🙂

All our efforts were completely ruined when the cat decided it was fantastic that we had brought her a toy. She climbed all the way to the top of the “tree,” causing it to bend, and then she let go, scattering the decorations everywhere. We had to gather the remains and put them back on the tree.

As dusk fell, I heard bells and jingles outside. I should add that we were living about 8 kilometers from the nearest house, so imagine my surprise when a truck appeared with Santa Claus and clowns! It turned out to be a couple from a campground by the sea, about 20 kilometers away, who had a tradition of driving around and handing out small presents to everyone.

I had met them earlier; they had a small shop with fantastic sea-themed items I had never seen before. The clowns they brought along were two Danish guys camping there (apparently, Santa Claus in Australia has clowns with him) who thought it would be fun to join the ride and meet people. Imagine my surprise when I got to speak Danish on Christmas Eve in Australia!

We had a great time, but it was definitely the strangest Christmas Eve I have ever experienced.

Wången!

I’ve already told you about my meeting with Bertil when I was a child. He was so happy to find someone who could share his immense passion for horses, especially the Nordsvensk (North Swedish Horse), that he started taking me along to various events. There were local evaluations, driving competitions, and other gatherings, but if you were passionate about the Nordsvensk back then, there was one place that was the heart of it all for breeders: Wången. That was where the evaluations for 3- and 4-year-olds took place early in the spring, and people came from all over Sweden. Yes, even someone from Denmark!

Not only was I from “abroad,” but I was also a girl! There weren’t many girls who shared an interest in Nordsvensk horses at that time, so I was unusual in every way. I was allowed to go with Bertil all the way to Wången in Östersund, which meant a train journey of over 12 hours. Naturally, all the Nordsvensk enthusiasts traveled together, and they had a lot of fun on the way. They had prepared well with their flasks, and there wasn’t much sleeping – but there was a lot of laughter! By then, I was a bit older and even got to have a schnapps or two along the journey.

I remember when we arrived at Wången. We had barely slept, and when we got off the train, it almost felt like we were still moving.

At Wången, people gathered from all over the country, and the variety of dialects was incredible. I was Danish, but by that time, I could speak fluent Swedish. Since I had learned the language and how to listen, I often ended up translating for the men when they couldn’t understand each other! Things usually got better after a couple of schnapps, and ultimately, everyone agreed that the Nordsvensk was the finest horse to ever walk on four legs.

I remember one man from Dalarna who had a wonderful dialect and a gift for storytelling. He would sit and humorously reflect on how strange it was that the evaluation judges – often limping with canes, wearing glasses, and using hearing aids – could stand there and criticize these perfectly created horses, saying they were “too short in the back” or “a little pigeon-toed.” We laughed until tears rolled down our cheeks!

There were so many debates and opinions when one of the stallions wasn’t approved, and the pride that radiated from breeders and supporters when a stallion was approved was incredible.

I visited Wången three times, and each experience was amazing. My love for the Nordsvensk remains strong. I think they are wonderful, versatile horses. I’ve been a lucky owner of three of them, and I would love to have another one someday.

The picture is from Wången 1979 when one of the 3 years stallions is showed.

Winter Memories from Sweden

Sometimes, our family would visit our summer cottage in Blekinge during the winter. We had time off between Christmas and New Year, and if we were lucky, there would be snow. Snow was rare in Denmark at that time of year, so we loved going to Sweden to ski. Sometimes, the lake would freeze over too, and we could go ice skating.

One Easter, the weather was absolutely fantastic. There was snow on the ground, but the sun was so warm that I decided to try skiing in my swimsuit. No sooner said than done! It was great fun – until I fell. Then my clothes were back on in no time! My parents were sitting outside having lunch and enjoying the sunshine. My dad thought it was very practical to stick the schnapps bottle in a snowdrift to keep it perfectly cold.

Another winter, when the whole family was there, Bertil wanted to surprise us with something special: a moonlit sleigh ride with his horse, Hamn. It’s a memory that still gives me goosebumps when I think about it. I so wish we had had mobile phones back then, so we could have filmed or at least taken photos, but it wasn’t possible with my little pocket camera.

That evening, the temperature was around minus 20 degrees. Snow weighed heavily on the branches of the pine trees, and the full moon cast a bluish light over the forest. The snow crunched under our boots as we walked, and when you breathed through your nose, the hairs froze into ice. We had to pull our scarves up over our faces to stop them from going completely numb.

Bertil came to pick us up in the sleigh, with Hamn harnessed and ready, and we each got a torch to light before the ride. The forest was completely still; the only sounds were the jingling of the sleigh bells and Hamn’s occasional snorting. We rode through the sparkling winter landscape to Bertil’s house, where his sister Nelly had prepared pea soup and warm punch. I remember that nothing had ever tasted so good – and even I got to try a little punch. It warmed us up perfectly for the ride home through the cold night.

Even then, I knew I was experiencing something unforgettable, something that would stay etched in my memory for the rest of my life. I’ve been on sleigh rides many times since, but never again by moonlight with torches. It was truly magical.

Unfortunately, I don’t have a good picture from that night – it was nearly impossible to take photos in the dark back then. Here is a picture of Hamn from another sleigh ride. We didn’t have mobile phones in those days, so you had to wait weeks to get your photos developed – and it was expensive too!

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Wonderful December!
I am one of those who loves December. I know… dark, slushy, and cold! But there is so much to be happy about: the Christmas trees, the light in the windows, the anticipation, and a new year just around the corner.

Many of my friends have birthdays in December, including myself. I love gifts, surprises, and cakes! I have a special birthday memory that I remember as if it were yesterday, even though it was a very long time ago.

I was 14 years old and soon turning 15. I spent almost every day at an animal shelter, helping out. There were homeless cats and dogs there, and I loved walking the dogs, earning their trust, or sitting in the “kitchen” with a cat on my lap. We cooked meat for the dogs and fish for the cats. The smell in the kitchen is hard to describe, but you got used to it. And the animals – they were just amazing.

The man who ran the shelter, Mr. Jönsson, also had two ponies: a Shetland pony named Claus and a larger pony named Prins. I used to take care of them and sometimes ride. But a few weeks earlier, Prins had passed away from colic, and we all felt sorry for Claus, who was now alone. Mr. Jönsson had mentioned that he might get a new horse, but even then, horses were expensive, so it was not something we could take for granted.

A week before my birthday, Mr. Jönsson called – something he never usually did. He asked me to come over immediately! I had a feeling it might be a new horse, so I borrowed my brother’s moped (even though I wasn’t allowed to ride a moped until I turned 15). I had secretly practiced a little before, so I knew how to drive and got there as quickly as I could.

And there he stood: the little pony! Mr. Jönsson said he would be “mine” as long as I continued to help out at the shelter. He had found the perfect way to ensure that I would never stop coming there.

It was the best birthday I had ever had. And on my actual birthday the following week, I bought my first moped with money I had saved from my confirmation and other savings. Now I had both my own horse and my own moped, and I was convinced I never wanted to grow older than 15.

Of course, that wish didn’t come true. It’s now over 50 years later, and I have continued to grow older. But instead of mourning that, I am grateful that I have been able to live so long and experience so much – especially considering that I have had family and friends who didn’t get the same chance.

Mr. Jönsson passed away a couple of years after this event, and his brother inherited everything he had. I worried a lot about my pony, but Mr. Jönsson’s brother felt sorry for me and gave me the pony. I cried with gratitude – my best friend would get to stay with me.

Now it’s December again, and soon my birthday. I wonder if I will ever have a birthday as special as that one. It will be exciting to see – surprises are always welcome!

My Mission

I’ve often heard that one should find their mission in life to truly make a difference in the world. For a long time, I struggled to identify mine. During my youth and much of my adult life, my focus was simply on surviving – putting food on the table and later ensuring my children had what they needed. However, one thing was always clear: I wasn’t going to settle for a conventional 9-to-4 job, sitting in traffic to and from work. Instead, I carved out a path for myself working with horses, something I’ve always been passionate about.

But loving your work isn’t necessarily the same as having a mission. My true mission revealed itself a few years ago when I started helping anxious riders and launched a podcast. The podcast’s purpose was to interview people who had done something meaningful for horses and, in doing so, share their stories to inspire and educate others.

Empathy for the horse has always been my driving force

Over the years, I’ve made my share of mistakes in handling horses, but I’ve always approached them with empathy and a deep desire to give them the best life possible. Even as a child, I couldn’t watch Western movies without feeling upset about how the horses were treated. I noticed the riders’ harsh hands yanking on their horses’ mouths with curb bits, the relentless spurring, and the galloping chaos. The worst part for me was when the horses “died” and fell on screen—I couldn’t stop thinking about the injuries they must have sustained during those stunts.

As I grew older, I began questioning many of the practices deemed “normal” in the horse world. I often wondered if having a bit in a horse’s mouth could truly be comfortable—perhaps because I’m so sensitive about my own teeth. I’ve always been skeptical of spurs, only using them for competitions because I had no choice at the time. My philosophy has always been to build a relationship with the horse using as few tools and aids as possible. I remember how people would admire me for riding my stallion with nothing but a halter, but for me, it just felt natural.

Curiosity led me to the podcast

When I started my podcast, it was driven by curiosity. I wanted to learn how people around the world cared for and worked with their horses. The world is vast, and the differences in equine management are enormous. Somehow, I managed to find individuals who were making a positive difference for horses, and this quickly became the central theme of my episodes.

Eventually, I had the idea to create debate forums where different voices could come together to discuss their perspectives. It’s been amazing to see equine welfare topics gain traction and how more people are beginning to prioritize the horse’s well-being over competition results. I welcome this change wholeheartedly because it’s so desperately needed. We must rethink the traditions that start in riding schools and teach people to see horses not as tools but as individuals that deserve to be heard and understood.

My mission today

Today, my mission is to shine a light on those who dare to think differently and prioritize the horse’s well-being above all else. I dream of a time when what is considered “alternative” today becomes the new “normal,” and when those of us who have stopped competing due to misuse of equipment, stress, and improper judgment of horses are no longer dismissed as “soft” but respected as people who love their horses and refuse to subject them to anything they don’t willingly participate in.

I hope we’re on the brink of a change similar to what we’ve seen in dog training, where harsh methods have been replaced by kinder, more respectful approaches. Being kind doesn’t mean being weak. And if there’s one thing I’m not, it’s weak.

I look forward with hope to better times for our horses. If you’re curious to learn more, tune into my debate forum this Wednesday. You’ll meet knowledgeable horse people, researchers, and riders who prove that incredible partnerships with horses can be built—without force or harsh tools.

The Reluctantly “Willing”

Our family is like so many others: the wife (me) is a passionate horse lover, and the husband – who probably didn’t fully realize what he was signing up for when he said “I do” – has ended up with a rather different daily life than he might have imagined.

I have to say, I made a smart choice. I married a handy man who works in construction and knows how to operate both tractors and excavators. Perfect for building stables, creating riding arenas, and yes, we’ve even managed to add a couple of indoor arenas over the years. While my husband wasn’t particularly interested in horses to begin with, he does enjoy farming and has found his own “hobby” in producing excellent hay for the horses and fixing fences that mysteriously keep breaking.

As for his lack of interest in horses? Well, over the years he’s had more than his fair share of lead ropes handed to him – either to help move horses or to hold a mare during breeding. And you know what? I’m fairly certain he’s actually enjoyed it, deep down. He’s even started to notice the horses’ individual personalities and has had his own favorites in the herd.

But… sometimes I wonder if he secretly dreams of the day I finally “grow out of” the horse phase now that I’m older. Perhaps he’s hoping for a retirement free from rolling hay bales and mending fences. He’s never said as much, but I have my suspicions, especially when I tease him a little.

Like the other day. I decided to test him.

I only have three horses left now – quite modest compared to the 25–30 I used to have – and to me, it feels a bit empty. The most recent addition is a rescue horse with a ligament injury in her right front leg. He’s still limping a bit, though he’s much improved. The other two are my own homebred horses, now 17 and 18 years old. One has this peculiar habit of occasionally lifting his left hind leg, as if he’s trying to stretch it. And the third? She was recently lame in her right hind leg, though I couldn’t figure out why – maybe she stepped wrong and twisted it.

So there we were one evening, my husband and I. He was deeply engrossed in watching YouTube on his phone when I suddenly said,
“I think I need to buy another horse…”

I watched as his entire body froze. His eyes glazed over, and he stared at me as if I’d just suggested we move to Mars. His breathing grew heavier, his nostrils flared, but he didn’t say a word.

I continued, pretending not to notice his reaction:
“Yes, I think I need to get a horse that’s lame in the left front leg, so the herd can be symmetrical.”

Half a second passed. Then I couldn’t hold back a smile. My husband saw it and realized I was joking. His whole body seemed to deflate by about 10 centimeters, and he exhaled in relief – loud enough to be heard.

I still haven’t quite figured out if he was worried about the cost – or if the idea of more horses was what really scared him.

Maybe I should buy him a horse for Christmas?

The Farrier – Someone We Can’t Be Without!

A few days ago, a discussion arose in my group about an incident where a horse bit a farrier on the back, and the farrier reacted by striking the horse. This sparked strong emotions and opinions about the farrier’s actions, and I think it’s time we address this sensitive topic.

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When Frustration Takes Over

I’ve had many horses over the years and admit that I’ve also lost my patience on occasion and hit a horse. It’s a human reaction when you’re injured, scared, or feeling powerless. At the same time, it’s important to understand the vulnerable position farriers are in. They must trust that the horse owner has done their part – training the horse to lift its legs and stand still during shoeing. But as we know, horses are individuals, and even a well-trained horse can suddenly react unpredictably.

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Horses Are Not Machines

I remember a young horse I bought as a foal and trained myself. By the time he was three years old, he was always well-behaved, able to lift his legs, and stand still. But one day, as I was taking him out of the paddock, he attacked me without warning. He bit me so hard on the arm that I thought he would never let go. In panic, I hit him to get him to release me. It was about protecting myself, and situations like that can happen even with horses you know well.

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Where Do We Draw the Line?

Farriers work in a vulnerable position, and it’s easy to understand their frustration if they’re bitten, kicked, or attacked. But the question is: where do we draw the line for an acceptable reaction? Using tools as weapons, kicking the horse with steel-toed boots, or injuring it in any way is never okay.

I’ve had farriers who reacted with understandable reflexes, but I’ve also met one who crossed all boundaries. Once, I hired a farrier to trim a pregnant pony mare who had difficulty giving her hind legs. I explained the situation and asked for patience. He had been working for no more than five minutes – and let me make it clear, she wasn’t dangerous, just reluctant to hold her legs up for long – when he started shouting, “damn horse,” and hit her over the back with the rasp while kicking her in the stomach. He yelled that he didn’t care if she was pregnant, using a stream of curse words. I was utterly shocked and told him to stop immediately. I even paid him just to avoid any further conflict. That was my limit, at least.

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A Model Farrier

The best farrier I’ve ever had was Per. He was used to working with draft horses and knew that fighting with a horse would never result in getting the job done. He would come and chat while we brought the horse out, take his time lighting his pipe, and let the horse get used to his presence. He always talked to me about the horse, commenting on how good it looked or asking where I got it from. This created a positive atmosphere, making the horse familiar with his voice and attitude before he even began.

Shoeing took a long time with Per, as he worked carefully and took breaks. All the horses calmed down when he was in the stable, and even the more challenging ones improved quickly. Later, his son took over and brought the same calm demeanor to his work.

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Collaboration Is Key

Being a farrier is not an easy job. It requires patience, skill, and a calm mind. If someone has a quick temper and takes out their frustration on the horse through violence, it only worsens the situation – both for the horse and for future shoeing attempts.

As horse owners, we can also help. Here are some things we can do:

• Prepare the horse: Train it to lift its legs and stand still.
• Be present: Assist the farrier by holding the horse and watching for its reactions.
• Reward good work: An extra bit of cash or a few kind words can mean a lot to a farrier who’s shown patience and skill with your horse.
• Be honest: Inform the farrier of any challenges and discuss together how to handle them.
• Offer a reward or hay for the horse: Keep it calm and content during the process.

My current farrier is incredibly attentive. My old broodmare struggles to stand still for trimming due to past hoof abscesses in one front hoof, and she fears it might hurt. He trims a little on each hoof, frequently switching, so she doesn’t have to keep one hoof up for long. I praised him extensively for doing this, and he was so happy that I noticed his efforts.

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A Relationship to Nurture

Farriers are an invaluable part of every horse owner’s life. We need to work together and respect their work. At the same time, farriers have the right to refuse dangerous jobs or clients who fail to prepare their horses properly. It’s a collaboration built on mutual respect, understanding, and good communication.