Loss Of A Trusted Friend: Amart 2005-2010

"I might entreat the fleeting minute,
Oh tarry yet, though art so fair..."
--Goethe

Time line: 2/27/10

11:30 a.m. horses fed, all is well, I leave for my office.
12:30 p.m. As I'm unlocking my office door, call from my neighbor Beth: "Art is here in our paddock". Another Amart escape. Last one was 7 months ago. How did he get over the impenetrable fence?

1:00 p.m. I arrive at Beth's. Instead of Art's usual pacing their paddock after their mares, Art just stands next to the fence as I arrive, producing a hmm.. from me, and then he paws about shoulder high at their wooden plank fence. Art is other than a pawer, but, colt-mare stuff, I am thinking of the pawing.

I walked Art back to the farm. The usual ear splitting neighing at the mares from him. He's a little skinned up. Nothing serious. lost a front shoe and lanced a rear heel bulb. Also a small wound under his chin that proves prophetic.

Decision then made to get in today's exercise now instead of returning at 5 p.m. Art is now pawing the ground in response to his buddies. More colt-mare behavior I'm thinking, but then Art is lack luster in the riderless running and drops out and runs into the barn. I let him go, thinking possibly Art had enough exercise already.

2:00 p.m. Finish the exercise and proceed to worm my boys. I go into the barn to worm Art and immediately see that Art needs banamine instead of wormer. Art has pawed up one corner of the barn in the manner of a horse with colic. I understand now the prior pawing.

We probably had a couple of colics a year, and I have a routine that has always worked. I put this into action with Art. Listen for gut sounds. None on either side. Absolutely none. Concerning. Push around with my hands on his stomach hoping to affect a possible impaction. I am thinking that Art probably left to chase mares immediately after graining this morning and failed to drink any water. I'd noticed the horses had drunk no water after last night's graining. Thus, possible two feedings without water ingestion.

Banamine paste was administered and Art was run around the paddock till he dumped. Also, a small second dump. This is good. Had running failed to produce the dump Art would be put in the trailer with the hope that nerves would get a dump, but unnecessary.

Since Art was declining any rolling or even going down I left to check the fence for tracks in the snow so I could make fence repairs. A 3 mile walk in 5 inches of snow where Art generally escapes produced zero horse tracks. Very puzzling.

3:00 p.m. I'm back at the barn hoping to see Art ok. But, he's still colicing, still without gut sounds, and now showing a level of more rapid breathing and distress. My next thing is to take the medicine tube and make him drink some water. First thing that comes out of his mouth is the banamine. He'd failed to swallow. Unless drinking water quickly worked I'd need the vet as I was out of banamine. Art drank some water on his own. I left again in search of tracks along the fence.

3:30 p.m. I get back. Without any change at all. I call the vet. She's on the way.

4:45 p.m. Vet arrives. the young lady from Dr. Jackson's office does a decent job with the usual routine. She's good with the stomach tube, BUT the banamine shot produces absolutely zero relief of pain. My level of concern is now growing.

5:30 p.m. at my request vet calls Dr. Jackson who is off today. Dr. Jackson offers to come pick up the horse since I'm unable to get my trailer out of the snow. He's on the way. That's the kind of vet he is and has been for 15 years. I'll recall the morning my mare had trouble foaling at 5:00 a.m. From 20 miles away Dr. Jackson was there at 5:25 a.m. Saved both mother and foal

I lead Art out to the pasture to be with the other two horses, and, a touching scene even without knowing what was to come.

Seemingly sensing their buddy's distress, with Art between them, one gently kept nudging Art's face and the other nudged the top of Art's neck. With what was to come, a memorable scene.

Then I saw it. Right in front of my house. A section of fence was down. The scene of Art's fatal accident. Everything came together now and Art's horrible moment clicked in--lost front shoe. Lacerated rear heel bulb, wound under his chin. Skinned up rear legs. Art somehow got himself caught in this fence, front leg and rear. Likely he slipped in the mud went down, cut his cheek and, with two feet caught, probably had to struggle severely to extricate himself. Twisted instestine" impinges on my thoughts.

6:00 p.m. produces more puzzlement. Dr. Jackson has pulled up to the barn, and, me traipsing through mud, water and snow to get the horse, Doc is following me in his rubber boots. It's near dark. Maybe Doc just wants to watch me or look at the ground conditions, but as I keep walking he keeps following, and this exchange:

Me: "Doc, you coming along?"
Doc: "When I drove in I thought I saw a horse laying down in the field".

Another moment of "hmm..", but there's no horses to be seen.

"Where".
Doc: "over below that hill".

With enough light to barely see we came over the ridge, and when we got there, Art was down, and he was dead. The other two were standing over him with fairly obvious horse type concern and puzzlement. They were both looking down at their fallen comrade.

Dr. Jackson explained it to me. The tissue of a twisted instestine fairly quickly dies, and then it ruptures sending toxins flooding into the system. This produces immediate killing shock. The horse was probably felled by pain and almost immediately became unconscious. Of my many horses this one, certainly, deserved to die in peace. Art lay there stiffly in the snow as a beloved animal in a majestic but last pose. RIP ART!

Unknown if or when I'll continue. I've lost my runner, and a friend. Right now I am just very sad for this kind horse.