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| Photo copyright Ajijaakwe, 2014; all rights reserved. |
When you have an animal with severe PTSD.
As of tomorrow, it will be exactly four months since Ice crossed a downed section of fence onto our side and made himself at home (he'd mysteriously appeared on the other side of the fence, unclaimed, unknown, and apparently unowned, two or three days before that). The photo above was taken on February 14th, which was, I believe, the first time we managed to get him all the way into that stall. Now he goes in on his own.
The other stalls, the two conjoined ones separated by ProPanel sections that have always been shared by the other horses? Not so much.
Not at all, actually. They terrify him.
It seems to make him claustrophobic. And because the structure is bisected by the ProPanels, it does mean that they are narrower — and the interior is darker — than is the case with this separate stall at the extreme south end of the south pen, the pen he shares with Harmony and Spock. But he's never been willing to enter them. At all. Not even a little bit.
At the entry to the south one is what's called an Itchin' Post (yes, it's the trade name). They're rubberized mats that look a bit like an egg crate in structure; you nail them around the end of a stall wall or a post, and the horses can rub up against them when they're itchy (as they are now while shedding the last of their winter coats), hence the name. We put some up years ago, but the other horses can rarely be arsed to use them.
A few weeks ago, Ice finally noticed them, and now he uses them daily. But with the one on entry wall of the conjoined stall, he's always placed himself sideways to it, so not even his rump would be inside the stall.
Until 15 minutes ago. I walked outside, and there he was with his butt in the stall. Under the roof, between the walls, inside it and everything. No, not the rest of his body; just his rump. But that's more than he's ever been willing to risk inside that dark scary place before.
It looks like a baby step to anyone else. I can see just how big a leap it is for him.
When even the south stall (the one shown above) still has the capacity to frighten him, this is a big deal.
A couple of nights ago, he was closed into the south stall as usual, with his alfalfa. Wings wanted to get some probiotics into him, which involves mixing a powdered form with a little grain. We use an old, battered metal dog bowl for that purpose, and Wings took it in like he normally does.
And Ice freaked. Not violently; just frightened enough that he wouldn't take it, wouldn't eat it, wouldn't eat it out of the trough. Started trotting in circles, getting stressed. So Wings left it in the trough and asked me to try.
I went in and he shied a bit, but didn't run. I got a handful out of the trough. Put it under his nose. He ate it. I called him to follow me, motioning to the trough. He tossed his head, then made a single tight turn, and followed me straight to the trough. Began to eat.
Baby steps.
Big leaps.
He's gonna be all right.
Copyright Ajijaakwe, 2014; all rights reserved.
