It was a choice I’d hoped to never make: euthanize my horse or have his eye removed.

It wasn’t fair to Sam. With continuous problems in both eyes over the last several years, including ulcers, scratched corneas, uveitis, medication several times a day, numerous vet visits, and constant pain until the latest injury healed, this was hardly the way for an old horse to enjoy his retirement.

Owners of equine senior citizens often have serious decisions to make concerning their horse’s health. Finances may limit what you’re able to do to make their lives more comfortable. It can be head versus heart. Some owners have no choice when the vet makes the decision for you, or if the expense is too much to bear.

In my case, I felt his years of service to his many riders had earned him some quality golden years, especially since I could care for him at home. When I made this decision, I never thought the 10 years I expected to be his caretaker would stretch into over 20 years!

I called the vet and scheduled the eye removal surgery. With help from two other vets in the practice and me (I was the “fetch-it” in the equation), the removal went very smoothly right in his stall. Sam stood quietly anesthetized with his nose resting on a hay bale to keep his head up. He was a perfect patient right down to the last stitch.

Sam spent the rest of the day and evening quietly resting in his stall. When I let him out into our small paddock the next morning, he bucked and cantered around like a horse 15 years younger. He had only one eye but, finally, no pain.

Disbelief

“How old did you say they were?”

I was standing at the pasture fence with a friend watching the two horses: Sam and his pal, Ali.

“They’re both in their thirties.”

“Wow! How long do horses live?”

“Forever, according to my husband.”

We both laughed. I pictured Doug, my husband, giving this answer and spreading his hands out in mock frustration.
In truth, Sam had been Doug’s trail horse after previous lives with other owners, including a stint as a show horse. He’d been given to us when he was 15, and I thought we would have him for about 10 years.

If someone had told me back then that we would have him for 20-plus years, I wouldn’t have believed them. Doug had enjoyed many hours of riding the trails near our “farmette,” even though he used to tell anyone who asked, “I ride him twice a year whether he likes it or not!”

Finding a Friend

Ali, who had been shown in dressage and was now retired, had always been the “low man on the totem pole.” But she met her match with Sam. He had equally as many (if not more) scars on his legs and flanks as she did, the result of numerous kicks and bites from their more aggressive pasture mates from the past.

After her rescue, she was destined to be turned out alone—until she met Sam.

For the first several weeks after Ali arrived to board with us, I kept them in separate pastures, but they were stall neighbors. They sniffed each other through the bars separating them in the stalls, but ignored each other when out grazing, even though they could have easily interacted over the fence.

Finally, I decided to try them together in the small paddock at the back of the barn. With a hose attached to the spigot, ready to help separate them if things got out of hand, I first led Sam from his stall to the small, fenced-in grassy area and then brought Ali to join him. They took one look at each other and promptly put their heads down to chow down on the rich grass, neither one at all interested in the other. Ali kept one ear warily cocked toward Sam, but when nothing happened, she relaxed, and they actually moved closer together and were soon grazing side by side.

A Breath of Fresh Air

I’m a firm believer in older horses being allowed as much outside time as possible to move around so their joints don’t stiffen up. As with older people, most equine senior citizens suffer from various degrees of arthritis. Since Sam and Ali seemed to accept one another without any problems, I put them together and alternated them between our two pastures every couple of weeks to allow the grass to rejuvenate.

Sam, at 35 years old, has always loved to roll in the muddiest spot he can find, and if he’s out in the pasture, he will paw at the grass to create a dust bowl, almost sighing with pleasure as he wiggles and squirms while rolling, scraping both sides of his face into the dirt.

Sam’s sight is very limited in his remaining eye due to all his past eye issues, but he has a good memory and the ability to see light and dark, so he manages to go in and out of his stall, find his water and feed buckets, and locate anyone who is holding a carrot. With the aid of Ali, Sam wanders around their pasture finding the choicest of grasses without walking into the fence, and follows her in when I call them.

It’s a match made in heaven that may go on “forever”—whether my husband likes it or not!

Freelance writer Virginia Clemens is a dressage rider and longtime horse owner.

This article originally appeared in the October 2016 issue of Horse Illustrated magazine. Click here to subscribe!

The post Your Horse Life: Forever Young appeared first on Horse Illustrated Magazine.

“Hurry! We want to cross the bay before the tide comes in!” Oddur, our guide and one of the owners of the Hotel Eldhestar where we were staying, motioned the leaders to pick up the pace. We all urged our horses into a tölt or canter and, with a herd of about 40 loose horses in the middle of our group, set out across the coastal inlet.

It was raining, as it did at some point almost every day, but we were fully protected by the high rubber boots and bright orange rain suits that had been doled out to us the first day. Our group of 16 vacationers and three guides was trying to save several hours of travel time with a shortcut, but it was going to be close.

We rode Icelandic horses—sturdy, strong, pony-sized mounts with long, thick manes and tails. Descendants of horses brought to Iceland by the Vikings in their longboats, the Icelandics have their own gait, the tölt, a fast running walk that is easy and a lot of fun to ride, as well as the usual walk, trot, and canter. Some horses also have a fifth gait, the speedy flying pace.

Accelerating into a gallop, I periodically looked up in the direction we were going, squinting to keep the water out of my eyes. I wasn’t sure if the water was falling from the sky or splashing up from the ever-deepening seawater under the horses’ hooves.

Suddenly, the horses in front of me dropped down and, except for their heads, disappeared. Before I could hesitate, my horse and the other riders’ horses alongside me plunged into a wide, water-filled channel that the incoming tide had filled. Immediately the horses began swimming as the cold water went down into our boots. The light rain and splashing sea sprayed our faces, but everyone was laughing and joking as the horses leaped onto the far bank and tölted or cantered on.

When Oddur finally held up his hand to signal us to slow down to a walk, we knew we had beaten the tide. Now all we wanted was a hot supper and dry feet.

Welcome to Iceland

I visited Iceland in the month of July, flying on Icelandic Air into the capital of Reykjavík. I stayed at Hotel Eldhestar on a horse farm outside the horticultural community of Hveragerdi, a town in the southern part of the island where the geothermal energy has been harnessed for the greenhouse cultivation of many kinds of vegetables, fruits and flowers.

I met the rest of the riders—two Icelandics, four Swedes, one Dane, seven Germans and one Swiss—on our tour of the Snaefellsnes Peninsula, considered to be the most unique and picturesque area of Iceland. A flight from the mainland of western Europe takes just two to four hours, so many Europeans vacation here.

Oddur drove us in a minibus down to a field where we met our mounts, about 55 Icelandic horses in a variety of shades and color combinations. Iceland boasts about 80,000 horses, all born on the island because horses are not allowed to be imported into Iceland today. In fact, if any of the native horses leave the island, they cannot return—a very effective way of eliminating equine diseases.

We watched as Oddur, his daughter, Hanna, and helper Siggi circled the herd on foot. At first, the horses galloped off with heads high and manes and tails flying, but eventually they settled down and milled about in a corner of the field with only a string corral containing them.

Oddur studied his list of horses and then waded quietly into the herd, patting first one and then another, speaking to them in a low, reassuring voice. When he came upon the “chosen one,” he put an arm over its neck and gently slid the bridle on. Leading the horse to the edge of the makeshift corral, he would introduce it to its rider.

“Ginny, this is Mosi. He has a sensitive mouth, is four-gaited, and may trot, so you’ll have to work to get a smooth tölt.”
Mosi, my first mount of 11 different horses in four days, was a mousy gray gelding with a dark stripe down his back and a black mane and tail. I led him over to my pile of equipment and began to saddle him while the others were doing the same with their assigned mounts.

After some instruction about the horses’ gaits and how to ride them, particularly the tölt, we set off first at a walk and then at the faster tölt as we became accustomed to our mounts. Our ride took us along country lanes, through lowland meadows and beside a highway, which, like many of Iceland’s roads, had wide riding paths parallel to it.

Catching Waves

The next day we rode down to a beach where we tölted for miles along the water’s edge, walking only periodically. We stopped to watch some seals sunning on rocks just off shore, and a few of the curious ones swam in closer to stare at us.

Then we were off, tölting, galloping, even racing down the beach. We clattered over round rocks and splashed through small waves as the light glinted off the wet sand. Some of us couldn’t help laughing out loud, a prelude to the next few days.

Dinner that night was delicious—trout, potatoes and salad—but the conversation at the table was all about our riding that afternoon.

“Thrilling, exciting, a lot of fun!”

“I just kept smiling the whole time we were riding.”

“These Icelandics are great—so well-trained!”

Then, since it was still light so late in the evening at that latitude, we pulled heavy shades across the windows so it was easier to sleep.

Fishing for Fun

The next morning, Oddur drove us to a little fishing village near the end of the peninsula. The road ran between the mountains and the ocean, and we marveled at the many beautiful waterfalls made by the melting ice of the Snaefellsjökull glacier.

The village, a summer home for many vacationers from Reykjavík, sat high up on a point of the peninsula overlooking the ocean. The waves had carved out unusual formations—caves, inlets, holes and bridges—in the rocky cliffs below, and arctic terns, seagulls and other sea birds had nests on the ledges.

Driving back, we passed old volcanoes, some still considered active, that were surrounded by craggy lava fields. Often, the sharp, rough edges of the black lava were softened by a layer of spongy green moss.

The ride in the afternoon included the entire herd so that we could change horses a couple of times and move them all to a different area. About 12 riders rode in front of the herd of loose horses, while seven rode behind to keep them all together. We tölted across inlets and dunes; through huge, black rock outcroppings; and out onto wide sand flats at low tide.

Then we made a temporary string corral, unsaddled our horses, and led them into the corral where we unbridled them and waited for Oddur to assign us our next mounts. Before motorized vehicles, this was the way Icelanders traveled—with a small herd of extra horses so they could change mounts, rest those not being ridden, and keep moving.

All of the Icelandic horses I rode were well-trained, good-natured and very sure-footed. It was easier to get a smooth tölt on some, but they could all do it.

Oddur told us that in Iceland, unruly, poor riding horses are culled and only the better mares and stallions are bred in order to maintain the integrity of the Icelandic breed.

Beautiful Sights

Oddur took us to a natural “hot pot” one morning, a hot spring cooled by a stream from melting ice. Wearing our swimsuits under our clothes and rain gear, we walked along a narrow, winding path through lava rock to the naturally heated spring. We shed our clothes and slid up to our necks into the warm, murky water. Afterward, a quick rinse in the cold stream left us refreshed and ready for our next riding adventure.

Over the next couple of days, we climbed up the side of a small crater to peer down into its depths and tasted the water from a mineral spring touted to have special powers.

After leaving the beaches, we rode along centuries-old roads or paths built by Icelandic settlers; snaked through crests and peaks of lava, some piled high over our heads; crossed through clear, blue streams; and followed curving, rocky trails through scrubby Icelandic birches.

When we arrived at our destination at the end of each day, the horses were turned out in a farmer’s field for the night, and we were driven to our quarters for dinner, evening conversation and sleep. Dreams were filled with the happy times we had already enjoyed on our easy-to-ride Icelandic mounts as well as trying to imagine the adventures we would be sharing with the gentle little horses the next day.

For information about this trip and travel to Iceland visit:

Horses North

www.horsesnorth.com

Iceland Adventure

www.icelandadventure.com

Liked this article? Here are others on the Icelandic Horse:
Video: Gaits of the Icelandic Horse
Meet the Icelandic Horse

Virginia Clemens is a horse owner and freelance writer.

This article originally appeared in the January 2014 issue of Horse Illustrated. Click here to subscribe!

The post Escape to Iceland appeared first on Horse Illustrated Magazine.

When to go on your safari will depend on the country you choose and whether it is their rainy season—not a time usually recommended. Your outfitter should be able to tell you the best months to book your safari, and what each time frame has to offer.

Once you decide what you want, your most reliable source is a recommendation from a friend or acquaintance who has traveled with that particular outfitter. Websites may not tell the whole story and could paint a less than accurate picture of the safari, so always get a list of past clients you can contact for their opinions and experiences.

There are many different riding safaris. Some offer an hour or two of riding a day with full-service luxury and time available for relaxing at the pool, shopping, winery visits and sightseeing. Others concentrate on the horseback riding with four to eight hours a day in the saddle, focusing on the people and wild animals in Africa. Those that cater to novice riders, and even have ponies for children, ride where there is no dangerous game, making horseback tours perfectly safe in these areas. Other safaris will only take experienced riders over the age of 16 but may offer game drives for non-riders.

The more challenging safaris require riders to be proficient in all three gaits. And, in truth, if you don’t ride regularly before this type of safari, you will be very stiff and sore after the first day or two, making the rest of your vacation very uncomfortable. Another factor is required riding gear, which will include a helmet, riding breeches, half-chaps, riding boots and gloves for safety and comfort—a big expense if you don’t already have them. Some outfitters have some of this gear, such as half-chaps, available upon request.

The outfitter we used for our trip, Safaris Unlimited, sent a clothing list and tentative itinerary of the days’ events, as well as a list of books to read before we embarked on our safari to acquaint us with Kenya and the Masai Mara. I definitely recommend some research before starting on your safari to help prepare you for your experience in the wild and wonderful continent of Africa.

The post How to Plan a Riding Safari appeared first on Horse Illustrated Magazine.