The First Month
It felt weird-we had gone through what seemed like quite a bit to get Fin, and now we were leaving him. He was in the excellent hands of my mom, but still. Getting him safely out of the feed lot had consumed my life for the last week, and now I was driving away without him. It felt surreal.
People asked how my new horse was and what he was like, but I didn’t really know. Altogether we’d spend a couple of hours with him and that was it. I was eager to get him home with me, but we needed to make sure he was healthy enough to put in with Laagie. And Eric and I had some work and travel plans for the next three weeks. Life would be easier with one, rather than two horses to find care for. The timing was going to be perfect-mom was going to keep Fin for the recommended 4 weeks of quarantine, and we’d be getting done with the things we’d planned before we ever knew about Fin.
As is typical when I plan things, it all changed.
The ratty weather really hung on, and mom was concerned that she wouldn’t have enough hay for 3 horses. (As a side note, when mom bought hay in the Fall, she only owned one horse. She adopted another from New Vocations in January, then Fin unexpectedly got added) She started to feel a little overwhelmed. Could we come get Fin early? He seemed healthy. He’d survived the barrage of vaccinations plus de-wormer we’d hammered to him that first day. Her farrier had been there to pull his long overgrown shoes. She thought he was ready to come home, and I hated to leave her feeling stressed about things. Her support and willingness to help was the reason we were able to say yes to adopting Fin in the first place.
So, two weeks after we brought Fin to mom’s, we were packing him back up and bringing him home! I was excited! And trying not to freak out. Because Fin was going to have two days to settle in before Eric and I left for a week. I sure hoped Laagie would be on his best behavior!
We unloaded Fin at his new home on a beautiful, sunny Sunday afternoon. I grabbed Laagie, and together with Eric and Fin, we walked the fence line twice. Then we walked to the automatic water. We walked in and around the shed. The boys seemed ok with life. Off came the halters and they put their heads down to graze! ‘Wow, how great is this?!’ I thought!
Laagie’s not too sure… 
Ok, now we’re good!
Or so I though…
It would have been unlike him to not be at least a little assertive. But oh boy, when Laagie showed his true colors, I thought surely it was going to be the end of Fin. Laagie may be 18 years old, but he’s big and healthy, and opinionated. He used to herd Trouble everywhere. Trouble didn’t really care because he was a pretty chill guy, and if things ever got too tough, Trouble could out maneuver the big bay to dodge whatever ridiculousness Laagie had in store. Poor Fin didn’t have a chance. Turns out he really wasn’t entirely sound, and certainly not quick. He was not a fighter, and for some reason Fin thought he could find safely in the corners of the pasture. Which did noting but get him abused. It was awful. We were able to catch Laagie to try to give Fin some space, then took them both for a walk around the pasture again. Hoping Laagie would cool down and recognize how little a threat Fin was, was the best we could do.
Eventually Laagie got less aggressive and they settled back into grazing mode. Somehow Fin only got a few bite marks out of the whole deal, so I was grateful for that. Knowing there was nothing more we could do but pray and leave them to it, we did.
The next morning they were both still upright and eating, which was hopeful! And no injuries! Fin wouldn’t let me touch him but I could see that he was ok, and that would have to be enough.
Over the next day and a half before Eric and I left, I was able to catch Fin and groom him. He stood perfectly still while I took the rubber curries to him. He didn’t move when I put on his new fly mask and (way too big) fly sheet.
I couldn’t really touch his ears, but other than that, he was well behaved, although wary.
When Eric and I returned, not much had changed. The young man who looked after the horses while we were away couldn’t get near Fin to put his fly mask on or spray him with fly spray. I felt so sorry for poor Fin! He didn’t have a forelock or tail to protect him from flies! He surely didn’t mind though. Both boys were just fine, and learning to live with each other.
At first I could catch Fin and groom him about every other day. He didn’t like being asked for anything, no matter how small. Even catching him to groom him was enough stress that he wouldn’t let me catch him again the next day. I’d always had ‘in your pocket’ type horses, so this was all really new to me as well. I knew that building our relationship could take time, but it was hard not to have expectations of an immediate, blooming friendship. For Pete’s sake, it had to be a nicer life than where he had come from. But in reality, I had no idea what he had come from. And regardless, nothing had been constant for him lately. It made sense that he wasn’t overflowing with trust and confidence.
The Standardbred Retirement Foundation is an incredible organization. The employees and volunteers that work with SRF work very hard to ensure horses adopted through them are in a healthy situation. After contracts are filled out, references are called, interviews are finished, and payments are made, the SRF expects quarterly updates, and bi-annual vet visits for life. See, while I have adopted Fin, I will never own him. Fin belongs to SRF. Not all adoption agencies operate this way. SRF believes that they are able to keep tabs on all their horses, as long as the horses are alive, if their name is on his registration papers. While I would prefer to own Fin myself, these rules really don’t mean anything changes in my life. Fin would get the care they contractually require whether there was a contract or not. Yes, I wish my name was on his registration papers, but I see no reason for SRF to ever have to haul him away, so I don’t worry.
When Dr. Yoder, my local veterinarian came out to do Fin’s required initial exam, Fin was so nervous. (I was too, which didn’t help matters) Fin was obedient, but so wary, and seemed to shrink away and hide within himself. I didn’t see it then-I just thought Fin was like that. But he always needed time to recover from interactions. I’d never had anything but home raised horses, so his behavior was totally foreign to me. (Now that I’m getting to know him better-about 3 months at the time of this writing, I see that Fin does either hide or try to get bossy when he’s moved out of his tiny comfort zone) I was sad that he didn’t seem to want anything to do with me, but still overall thankful that he was alive and healthy, and a great buddy for Laagie.
Dr Yoder looked at him, poked and prodded him, got out the hoof tester, and took note of the vaccinations and de-worming we’d done. He thought Fin looked fine. The hoof tester showed that he likely had the beginnings of laminitis, which wasn’t surprising, as he’d probably had some (ha, understatement there, likely) hard surface time in his past. His eyes were drippy, but Doc thought it was allergies. Yahoo! Healthy boy!
Not sure why mom is always taking pictures 
His suspicions confirmed-mom’s weird for sure
On the advice of horsewomen I respected, I tried to take things very slowly with Fin. Not at all my strong suit… I tried to let any small interaction be seen as a step forward for us. Following me through the gate without pushing me, letting me come up to him in the pasture, light grooming without being tied-all steps in the right direction.
But true to my style, I pushed him faster than I should have. I would ask him to go for a walk outside his pasture and he would go from fine to spooking at nothing then back to ok again to hiding away in his shell, with no real rhyme or reason that I could see. He hated my parked horse trailer and spooked at it every opportunity he got. Sometimes cars going by on the road would not elicit even a glance, and other times they’d send him bashing into me. For goodness sake, he was an Amish horse! I knew none of this stuff was new to him.
Fin and Eric exploring 
Getting to know each other
While I did really try to move slowly for him, I do have behavioral expectations, and there were a couple things we needed to sort out. He needed to pick up all his feet without a fuss, and he needed to let me put his fly mask on and spray him. I’m no horse trainer, so whether my methods are good or otherwise, they did seem to work.
Lucky for me Fin loves to eat. At first I could only spray him and put his mask on with his halter on. It was kind of dumb to have to put the mask on loosely, slip the halter out from under it, then tighten the mask a bit. Two days of halter, mask, fly spray, treat, and he was asking to put his head in that mask! Baby steps!
We also worked on standing beside the horse trailer for grooming. Turns out Fin enjoyed getting groomed, so he endured standing like a good boy if it meant he got brushed.
It was clear that Fin wasn’t entirely sound from the moment Laagie first chased him around the pasture. He was stiff in certain movements, and seemed quite tender in his front hooves. My farrier, Ryan, agreed with our vet’s suspected diagnosis of beginning laminitis. Fin had next to no heel either. While Ryan would work to see if we could build some heel back, he thought it was unlikely Fin would ever have completely ‘normal’ and sound front feet. I was a little disappointed, but honestly more for Fin than for me. I really wanted him to have a normal, pain free life. The issue of limited to no riding wasn’t that big of a deal. Frankly I was feeling a tad overwhelmed just trying to lead him around the property with some sanity, so not having the pressure of feeling like I should be riding him was ok with me!
Then came his float. Ugh, if that wouldn’t break any trust we’d built up… I hate getting horses floated. It’s the worst. I can’t believe there are drugs strong enough in the whole world to make a horse cool with a pneumatic file buzzing around in their head! But after an extra dose of Rompun or whatever drug it was, Fin got his teeth floated. Doc said they weren’t too bad, and that we could wait 12 months to do it again. Music to my ears! (I’ve given up on my wish that he’s say we never need to come back again…)
Doc helped me load a loopy Fin in the trailer for our 1/2 mile trip back home, and that was that!
We’d survived our first month. Things were going ok! Most importantly, the boys were figuring life out together.
