Progress

        

As luscious as the grass was in the UBF's new field, he decided he didn't like it. He protested as I lead him by standing on his back legs and striking out. I managed to persuade him to go into the field but he was very stressed all day, running up and down the fence and not settling to graze. I sat with him at lunchtime - he wouldn't leave me, he screamed when I left and it was obvious he felt vulnerable by himself. It was then I decided that the UBF could stay in his original little paddock where he felt more comfortable, until his new friend arrived in July.

I think both the UBF and I were relieved with this decision. I assume he had not been handled very much in his previous life and I was expecting too much of him too soon. He ran me over as I lead him, he reared up, he marched ahead with me following behind - it felt dangerous and I knew we had to start from the beginning. 

The UBF had not had time to settle, to breathe between operations - he hadn't had time to get to know me. I was the person who brought food and gave him medicines, injections and caused more pain. So I knew I had to just simply be with him. Not doing anything at all.

It's harder than it sounds, just simply being. I entered his paddock and sat near the gate (for a speedy exit in case he got boisterous). I sat watching him munch on his hay, breathing in the sounds and the smells of nature around me. He flicked an ear and watched me out of the corner of his eye, after about 20 minutes he wandered over to say 'hello'. He didn't bite, or invade my space or rear up on me - he simply sniffed my boots and touched my hand. I spoke softly and continued sitting as he calmly walked away. It was thrilling that he chose to do that - and each day he came over even more, he engaged with my hands and was keen to stay by me.

I did nothing. I didn't feed him, I didn't pet him, I didn't even touch him unless he touched me. That was the start of the journey right there. Now he was feeling better  - we could really begin to develop our relationship.

A new field

The UBF lives in an incredibly beautiful place - a finca with palm trees and cerise bougainvillea, of purple jacarandas and pink oleanders so floriferous it feels like you are in a fairy tale - on mushrooms. The farm also boasts fenced fields full of grass which is a rare thing here in Mallorca. After the swelling on his face went down, despite him not letting me anywhere near it to wash it, we decided to put the UBF in different field to graze. He was starting to feel VERY well and it was clear that the last operation had got rid of the final bit of infection. The UBF was no longer a placid patient but a boisterous two year old, a pure Spanish horse, who was starting to love life. The pain had very clearly disappeared and he was putting on weight fast. He had shed his matted winter coat revealing beautiful bright orange hair, shiny and as glorious as a conker. He had grown in 6 weeks, he had grown taller and wider and he had grown mentally. He now felt rather special.

He galloped and farted and bucked his way around the new field, quickly orientating himself to where the mares were and where his water bucket was. We looked on at this impressive beast and felt such pride and joy - to have even got this far has been such a privilege.

Another operation

When the UBF was a yearling or so, one of his molars went rotten. I am guessing he lived in a large herd of foals who were left to grow once they had been weaned from their mothers. I am sure it took a while before anyone noticed he was in pain, that something was wrong. A dentist was called who removed the rotten molar but still he did not get better. He felt depressed and very sore, he was isolated from his friends and everyday the grooms would try to help by flushing the wound and giving him painkillers in his diet.

The infection had actually rotted his jaw and the pieces of bone needed removing. This is when he came to live with me instead of being shipped to France for burgers.

I had been warned that the operation may not work. The vet had told me of the risks and that she may need to operate a number of times to get all the infected bone removed. Two of the three exit holes in his jaw had closed and healed well - but one was still full of pus.

Poor UBF. Sedation. Screwdrivers back into the hole. Tiny bit of bone removed. Flushing. Flushing. Antibiotics. Pain relief. Sore tummy. Smelly poo. Swollen face. More worry.

After the sedation had worn off I led him to his paddock and promised I would do everything to help him. 

He disregarded me - and continued to eat his hay despite what he had just been through.