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ColicJune 05, 2006 Rhodry occasionally lies on his back with his paws in the air, but I'd never seen a horse do it -- not until yesterday afternoon. Dolci was lying on her back in her paddock with her hooves in the air. She got up when I opened the gate, but as soon as I exited the paddock she lay down again, again with her hooves in the air. I ran up the hill to the house, where Ginny was mowing the lawn. Dolci had managed to arrange herself in the shadow of the barn, out of sight of anyone looking down from the hill. Which it turned out Ginny had been doing earlier, when Dolci was lying down in the back pasture. It was beginning to look a lot like colic. For horse people, colic is one of the things you're always watching for without realizing you're watching for it. (Founder, aka laminitis, is the other big one.) In my city girl days I walked the streets of Washington, D.C., at most hours of the day and night, confident, sure I was going to get to where I was going -- until I'd hear footsteps half a block behind me and suddenly realize that no one else was on the street and the block ahead looked awfully dark. The equine digestive system is designed for continuous grazing on less-than-rich green stuff. Humans often impose meal times, at which heavy nutrition is served, and keep the horses in stalls or dirt lots where no forage is available. We take care to minimize the risk of colic, but sometimes colic happens anyway. When colic happens, one of the priorities is to keep the horse from twisting its intestine -- which is very, very long, to accommodate that life of leisurely foraging punctuated by occasional fast getaways from predators. This usually means keeping the horse walking so it won't lie down and thrash about. I walked Dolci around her paddock while Ginny called the vet. (There are no regular horse vets on Martha's Vineyard. Most of the general practice vets do inoculations and handle routine problems, but for more serious or specialized stuff most barns have an off-island horse vet who makes regular trips to the island. Trouble is, the off-island vets can't make it here on a moment's notice, and it was Sunday after all.) Dolci really, really wanted to lie down. I really, really wanted her to keep walking. She weighs 1,100 or 1,200 pounds. I weigh about 155. With odds like that the horse usually wins. You know how some things are absolutely unimaginable until they happen and then all of a sudden you're an idiot for not seeing it was inevitable? Dolci lay down about five feet from the post-and-rail fence. She rolled toward the fence. Her hind legs slipped between the rails. She realized that her hind legs were caught between the rails, tried to get them free, and couldn't. Shit. It was like watching two cars on collision course. That's another equine vulnerability: heavy body on relatively skinny legs. Vulnerable, easily breakable legs. (Think Barbaro.) Dolci didn't quite panic, but she also didn't know how to extricate herself. I didn't know how either. I screamed for Ginny and kept pulling. Two strands of electric wire broke, but Dolci managed to get free. All those appalling possibilities that didn't happen. Thank you, Epona and all the horse gods. Short version is that the vet came, gave Dolci a shot of banamine and a tranquilizer; Ginny gave her four syringes of mineral oil. Dolci's intestine was clear as far as the vet could reach, with a plastic glove that came up to his elbow. Should she go off-island to Tufts veterinary hospital? (Along with no equine vets, there are no equine surgical facilities on Martha's Vineyard.) The big specter is what if she takes a turn for the worse after the last boat has left? Ginny has insurance and a trailer. She decided to go. She asked me to go with her; I had to say no, since I'm looking after six horses at another barn till Tuesday night. Fortunately, Dolci seemed much more herself after the shots; she was no longer trying to lie down, and she wasn't thrashing around. Probably no one needed to ride in the trailer. Probably.
Ginny was on the freight boat coming home. Because the freight boats load and offload through the stern, vehicles often have to back on. Three of the six large semis already on board had had to make at least two attempts to back straight into the designated lane. Ginny backed the Ford 350 and two-horse bumper-pull trailer into position on the first try. The guy in the BFI (waste hauler) rig leaned out his window and said, "Good driving!"
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