Edgar Rice Burro has another abscess. At least that’s what I hope because it’s the least terrible option. Chronic foot disease is the most common veterinary condition seen in geriatric donkeys. Of the possibilities, cross your fingers for an abscess. I’m suspicious because of the recurring quality of the lameness. Edgar is suspicious because it’s his normal state these days. He’s 82 in donkey years, old enough to know that he’s vulnerable.
Not that Edgar is stubborn or nasty or even particularly contrary. His foot hurts. It has nothing to do with me at all. Except I need to doctor his foot.
If you were looking for tips on YouTube, you might think trainers throw temper tantrums when they don’t get their way. I can remember being told my horse needed to be more afraid of me than anything else in his environment. It’s our predatory nature to think intimidation is the answer. I heard someone preaching the same old canard recently. They call it respect, but how could scaring a flight animal be smart? I smile because equines can no more understand the concept of respect than they can plan a summer vacation. I smile because fear-based trainers think trainers like me are only good for kissing noses and baby talk. That I don’t have the beans to get the real work done.
Edgar hobbles a few steps, barely putting the toe of his hoof down. His big ole head is low, and like all donkeys, he is stoic. By the time they show a hint of pain, you know it’s terrible. We could be siblings. I hide my pain and get impatient with commiseration. So, I get to business because it’s not about me, unless my emotions make it about me. Edgar has enough anxiety of his own.
Peaceful persistence is the name of the bean game here at Infinity Farm. It means I’m not aggressive. Not conceding. And not emotional. I’m going to describe how that applies to cleaning and dressing a very ouchy hoof on a donkey who was not born yesterday.
First, get everything together. Over-prepare. There will be no second trips. Stopping and starting is rude. Remember what it’s like to wait at the doctor’s office? I’ll get it right the first time, because this will be hard for Edgar. Now think about everything that could go wrong and double-check again.
Backstory: Edgar comes when I call his name, running with a slight limp. He is not a problem case. There were years when the vet got rough with him before I could step in and years when he was flawlessly well-behaved. It’s been a long road, Edgar would tell you, but we are partners. We rule by consensus.
I get the halter out and he hurries away, with one flat tire, to the far corner. It’s a caution light. I follow slowly, give him a scratch and breathe. His nose is on the ground. He feels miserable. I bend over with the halter low. Just as I wiggle it under his muzzle, he bolts away as best he can. He’s hung up in the halter, so I let go because an accidental fight is still a fight. Besides, it’s the Mulligan. The first try never counts.
One reason horses are easy to intimidate is that they have long necks. We can leverage them to our benefit. They’re easier to manhandle, although they are bigger than we are. Donkeys are lower to the ground, their necks are short and when they brace, physics is on their side. You might as well be trying to roll a giant cube of cement. And it’s worse if they’re afraid or under stress, like Edgar was feeling before I came out of the house. In a dire emergency, I might need to snug him to a post, but I’d still have to get the halter on first and Edgar knows it.
I try the halter again. This time, he bowls me over like an Abrams tank. It’s a natural defensive reaction to want to whack him with a rope. I’m no saint, but I know my emotions don’t matter. Instead, I exercise superhuman strength. I’m breathe and smile. It’s not personal. This is his answer. It might not be the one I want, but he’s being honest. I won’t cause more anxiety. But I won’t quit either. That wasn’t a hard no. We’re just talking.
I slowly approach and scratch Edgar’s backside, remembering that some old dogs take to biting kids. I’m fine with that. Kids should learn that animals don’t exist to entertain them. And at a certain age, a dog should get to retire from being a good boy if they want. Call it elder privilege. Old bones make us all cranky. We should issue get-out-of-jail-free cards. Edgar has one.
I move to his shoulder with the halter and ask a third time. After a ridiculously long, feels-like-forever pause, he arcs his neck toward me and the halter glides on. Like I say. We’re just talking here. People always expect the worst. If we don’t get our way instantly, we ruin everything. Affirmative training is challenging because humans are born pessimists, just like equines. It takes huge, massive beans to be an optimist.
Edgar will need to be tied, a bit of control to stand for the soaking. After bringing my supply wagon into the pen, I hang a bucket of mush and loop the rope. But we don’t do things the hard way here. This ordinary meal is a special treat because he doesn’t have to share. As he slurps pain meds with his mush, I pull a plastic bag with warm water and Epson salts over his hoof and use an elastic baggage strap to hold it. I swish the water a bit. Edgar ignores me.
It boils down to making a choice. Be a predator or a partner, but they will read it all in how we halter them. We announce ourselves and are judged in that moment. Before we get to the hard part, but if you do it right, there is no hard part. We’ll soak his hoof again tomorrow, but Edgar will remember he doesn’t have to share his mush.
In a few minutes, I pull the hoof out, dress it, and put a newborn-size diaper on his hoof. Then some vet wrap and tape, knowing he’ll have it off by morning. Edgar finished his mush a few minutes ago and is feeling companionable.
Anticlimactic, isn’t it? Any donkey will tell you that picking a fight is the sign of a lower intelligence. So is losing your temper. They refuse domination and think horses should do the same. But I’m no genius. I just stand around. I persist.
Edgar Rice Burro, stoic even with praise, says, “Little Ears, you’re stubborn as a donkey.”
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Anna, excellent teaching today – and I love your line about animals not existing to entertain us. I have to go out there and work on both of my mares feet today, just trimming but it’s hard work. I’ve been putting it off because of my own back pain but can’t find anyone else up here in the backwoods and just have to suck it up. I’ll keep reminding myself of your haltering tips. Thank you. I hope Edgar feels better, poor guy.
The older our backs get, the more haltering matters. Good luck, Ren. And thanks.
Hope Edgar feels better soon and hope all is well with you, Anna.
Edgar has his good days. We’re fine and hope the same for you. Thanks, Verna
This highlights something I’ve always been a bit puzzled by. Lots of people comment once they learn calming signals they feel terrible – but why?? I think it’s wonderful that we can understand enough to have a conversation! I don’t see it as a negative even when the answer isn’t what we want, because now we can talk through it.
Thanks for the question, Kate. Once we understand brain science and calming signals, it kind of kills romantic notions about horses. Some prefer the fairly tail to a real conversation. I don’t see it as a negative either. I think clearing away the false notions is the path to a real partnership.
“Clearing away false notions is the path to a real relationship”. Truer words were never spoken about ANY relationship a human hopes to be successful in.
You and Bella worked in tandem to teach me about peaceful persistence. Little John says thank you to you both! Please give Edgar an ear rub for me; he has a special place in my heart, as in the hearts of so many.
I am just a hand puppet. Bella and LJ say thank you. And being trainable might be the most valuable thing in a human.
Poor Edgar! Hoof abcesses are awful. When I had a horse prone to those, I used to slip one of those Davis soaking boots over the poultice, snug up the strap and it stayed on pretty well. Maybe they make them in donkey hoof size? Easy Care (Easy boot Co.) makes a nice boot that is similar.
Thanks, Cyndi. Donkey hooves are such a different shape, I haven’t found any in Edgar’s size.
Oh man… I can relate. Pancho is the “old man” in my herd… a foundered rescue from southern Washington… wasn’t real sure we’d get him home. That was 10 or 12 years ago… and off an on, we’ve fought white line ever since… slow going sometimes… bad lately. PLUS – he will NOT take the Prascend tablets, no matter how sneaky I am… At the same time, he’s the one of the six that will follow me stall to stall, make sure I’m doing a good job cleaning up… and stand for ear scratches for as long as I will – actually longer. He’s a stoic, sweet old man… and keeps teaching me new things all the time! LOVE HIM!
Your climate is tricky for hoof drama, as I recall. But Mark, I hear you. The old guys. Irresistible. Even with the pill problems.
Thank you for the abcess article. I had such difficulty with the halter when Cricket was diagnosed by my ferrier with an abcess. Remembering from Calming Signals class after all that you described ears back, running away, turning her back on me and getting in kicking position, I turned my back on her and let out a breath and just waited, she finally came up to my back and put her head down. This all took a LOT OF TIME, but eventually I got the halter on. She never did let me lift her foot to put it in the Epsom salts, had to just let it heal without soaking. It took a longer time but it eventually healed after the vet came and wrapped it! Without having attented the class on line on calming signals, I never would have spent so much time in trying to get a halter on!! Thank you again for the story of Edgar. Nancy Gregory
I’m glad to hear the abscess has resolved, but more than that, that you took the time haltering. She must have been in so much pain and you let her ask for help. Thanks, Nancy.
What a loving story Anna – with many lessons to learn. Your everyday life is a library of lessons and that you put so many down in words to share is greatly appreciated. By humans and the horses we serve.
Thanks SueAnn.
I had many bouts with abscesses when Basker passed 20 and the cushings got worse. But he knew the stuff in both pans, the mush and the soak, would make him feel better. He trusted me and that alone took a long time for a very intelligent hot horse who had been worked over hard for being hot. His issues were some of my best lessons because I absolutely could not panic or cop an attitude with him. Fingers crossed that Edgar’s abscess drains quickly.
There is so much to be learned doctoring horses. Thanks Mary.
Truly – there is ALWAYS much to be learned whether horses, dogs, cats (or humans)! ALWAYS>
Thanks, Anna, for this. As always, a masterful blending of teaching and humor, with apt analogies. I think the piece that hits home most with me is ” If we don’t get our way instantly, we ruin everything.” If only every human who works with horses could embody a more patient approach.
In my years with horses, it has always been an amazement to me how much medical treatment they will actually allow if we are patient and persistent. I had a horse with scratches, and treating that condition was clearly painful for him. In the beginnning he would dance about and resist. But eventually, he seemed to learn that the treatment, followed by a soothing powder and ointment, resulted in relief for him.
I always felt so honored, so pleased, that Cash would let me apply a homeopathic poultice to his eye area when his eye was highly irritated from wind and dust. .. sans halter of course since any containment made matters worse for us.
I’m sending healing thoughts to Edgar for less pain in his feet.
How do you do it. That was my sentence, too. It’s so much our nature to expect the worst that we enter fighting… and miss the amazing things that happen with trust. Like Cash. Thanks, Sarah.
“Your everyday life is a library of lessons and that you put so many down in words to share is greatly appreciated.” Well said by SA Spinks.
I hope Edgar heals quickly, Anna, and it is indeed “only” an abscess.
Thanks Lynell. I don’t think it’s “only” that, but I like writing about Edgar.
I guess I never looked at your “avatar” picture before, Lynell. I live with an exact copy of that – as well as Axel & Pookie (dog & bird)
Somehow all three live independently!
I have no doubt that that’s how it is in Maggie-Land, Maggie!
After taking a good look at that picture of Monkey See, I said to myself, “Yep, he owns me!”