EquusSynergy Hoof Care & Horsemanship

19/05/2025

Hoof Care Update

I wanted to share a quick update. I’m finally feeling better and back to trimming again! It’s such a relief to return to the work I love, and I’m incredibly grateful for your patience while I recovered.

One thing that’s made a huge difference: the Stoko Supportive Shorts I invested in, and I say invested in because they cost $300 on sale. They’ve been a game changer. They give me the support I need to trim without nearly as much fatigue or pain by the end of the day which means I can keep more horses on schedule and show up more fully for you and your horse!

That said…

May has been a challenge.
High winds, surprise rainstorms, and multiple days of rain in a row have made it difficult to keep a perfect schedule.

I book appointments while checking the weather forecast constantly, but the forecasts have been all over the place. A week of beautiful, calm weather can turn into wind and storms literally out of nowhere!

Please know I do not reschedule unless I absolutely have to.

When I’m not working, my bills don’t get paid. I hate when horses get off schedule. I hate falling behind. I want to be at every appointment, on time, just as much as you do.

But I also have to say it honestly: I can’t control the weather.

What I can do is adjust where I can, communicate clearly, and make the best decisions for everyone’s safety especially your horses.

If rescheduling is difficult for you, please know that I can trim many horses safely without the owner present. A number of clients already do this, and it can be a great option if weather delays or timing conflicts come up. Don’t hesitate to ask if that’s something that could work for your setup.

Thank you again for your grace and trust. I’m honored to be part of your horses’ care and look forward to seeing you (and them) soon.

16/05/2025

🥕 How Much Hay Does Your Horse Actually Need? Let's Talk Numbers.

You’ve probably heard the basic guidelines:

Feed 2% of your horse's ideal body weight per day if they're at a healthy weight

Feed 1% per day if they’re overweight
(For a 1,200 lb overweight horse, that's just 12 lbs total per day—or 4–6 lbs per feeding split into 2–3 meals)

But here’s what most people miss:
👉 Not all hay is created equal.
Different types and cuts of hay have drastically different calorie contents, and that makes a huge difference in how much your horse actually needs to maintain weight.

💡 A mature 1,000-lb horse at maintenance (not being ridden) typically needs ~15,000 calories per day.

Let’s compare how many pounds of hay per day it takes to reach that:

📊 Calories per pound & pounds needed per day:

Hay Type Calories/lb Lbs/Day

Alfalfa (Early Cut) 1,000 kcal 15.0 lbs
Alfalfa (Mature) 900 kcal 16.7 lbs
Orchard Grass (Early) 900 kcal 16.7 lbs
Orchard Grass (Mature) 800 kcal 18.8 lbs
Timothy Grass 800 kcal 18.8 lbs
Mixed Grass Hay 850 kcal 17.6 lbs

🧪 Hay testing is the gold standard. Without it, you're just guessing. A stemmy, mature grass hay might not meet your horse’s calorie needs even if you’re feeding by the book.

🌾 And here's why horses still act hungry even when you’re feeding enough by weight:
Dry hay is concentrated. For example, 20 lbs of hay = ~74 lbs of fresh grass. That’s a big difference in volume and chew time. It’s like us eating jerky instead of steak—not nearly as satisfying.

🐴 My favorite tools for feeding smart:
✔️ Use a scale to weigh your hay—flakes vary wildly in weight
✔️ Add clean, low-calorie straw for bulk without the calories
✔️ Soak hay to reduce sugar for easy-keepers—but know that some nutrients will leach out

✨ Feed smarter, not just more and your horse (and your wallet) will thank you.

12/05/2025

I'm not thrilled with the forcast this week with two high wind days coming when I have trims to catch up on. I will rescheduling those trims because to be honest it’s just not safe.

I can’t do my best work when the barn is shaking, the roof is rattling like it’s about to tear off, and hoof trimmings, dirt and hair are blowing up into my face. I can’t risk my body working on a horse that’s trying to stay calm while everything around them feels unsettled.

I’ve been offered garages, breezeways, lean-tosand I appreciate the thought. but when a horse is suddenly standing in an echoey, unfamiliar space, their nervous system doesn’t lie. They brace. They fidget. They stop listening. And the trim becomes something we all have to get through, rather than something done with skill and presence.

What I really need is simple. A quiet, solid little enclosed shed. Something like a 16x16 or 20x20 space with dry, clean, no slip flooring and enough light to see the hoof in my hand. It doesn’t have to be fancy. Just functional, for me, and for your horse.

See, Horses rely on routine. They feel safest in spaces they know. I wish more people thought of their grooming area like a walk-in tack room a place their horse visits regularly, where they learn that standing still and being touched all over isn’t a big deal. Just part of the day.

I can count on one hand the number of horses I work on who can truly relax and go to sleep while being handled. Most are bracing or zoning out, managing the moment instead of softening into it. And it’s not because they’re difficult, it’s because they’ve never had the time.

So many horses are groomed in a rush. A few swipes over the back and neck, pick the feet, saddle up, done. We focus on the flowing manes, the soft muzzles, the big eyes but we rarely curry the whole body. We don’t go under the belly, between the front legs, inside the gaskin, or all the way down to the top of the hoof. And that’s where so much tension lives. That’s where the horse learns whether touch is safe, or something to brace against.

I used to spend hours grooming. Not because I had to. Because it was connection. That kind of presence teaches a horse how to be still in their body. How to accept handling with trust. It shapes how they respond when the vet or farrier shows up.

One thing that quietly interferes with this is hanging a hay bag right in front of them. I know it feels like the kind thing to do, but a horse who is chewing is a horse in motion. They’re busy. Their focus is split. They aren’t learning to be present or still they’re coping through distraction. And that shows up in the trim, in the posture, in how easily they tune out or react.

This isn’t about being picky. It’s about safety, and it’s about setting your horse up to succeed. A quiet space. A solid floor. A horse whose body as been handled thoughtfully, all the way down to the hoof. That’s not a big ask.

That’s just good horsemanship.

06/05/2025

A little update since my last post.

I’m not great at slowing down. I’ve spent years building a life that runs on grit, drive, and getting things done. But when your pelvis feels like it’s coming apart, you don’t really get a say anymore. Your body decides for you.

I’m trying to be a better patient.
Trying to listen.
Trying to heal.

Most of you know I don’t just work on horses—I also run a full-time farm. I’m milking cows every day, carrying heavy buckets, and we’re right at the start of baby season. There’s no “pause” button when lives depend on you.

So how am I doing it?
Slowly. Very slowly. And deliberately.
Some things are getting postponed. Some days are harder than others. But I’m doing my best to move through it with care.

If you can’t wait on me to get back to trimming, I completely understand. And if you can… just know how much I appreciate you. It means the world to me.

I just ordered these to try and give my back and pelvis the support they need to hold together a little longer:
https://stoko.com/products/womens-supportive-short-ab
They were pricey, but if they help me keep going without re-injuring myself, they’ll be worth every penny.

Thank you for being here and walking with me through the hard parts too.

The only short with adjustable medical-grade support designed to help you overcome pain and get you back to activity. The Stoko Supportive Short brings all-day comfort and reinforced support to running, hiking, golf, racket sports, and all your favourite activities.

02/05/2025

Hey everyone, first, I just want to say how genuinely grateful I am for your patience lately. Honestly, it really bothers me every single time I have to reschedule appointments or shift things around, especially after fighting my way through yet another interesting winter. ❄️🥶 I know how important your horses are to you, and it seriously weighs on me when my body’s limitations get in the way.

For most of my life,I thought my flexibility was an asset, I could move naturally with horses, never had trouble keeping my heels down, and rarely got hurt. My instructors always said how lucky I was, and I agreed. But lately, I've learned there’s actually a cost to being this flexible, and it's been pretty hard to come to terms with.

I recently learned I have joint hypermobility. Basically, my ligaments are too loose, making my joints especially in my pelvis and lower back unstable. When I’m trimming your horses, twisted in weird positions and bracing their weight, my joints slip and shift around more than they should. It irritates nerves and overstretches tissues, causing pain and issues that just don't bounce back like they used to when I was younger. 😣

For years, I thought this was just wear & tear from a physically demanding job, or maybe related to my rheumatoid arthritis. I tried everything, chiropractic adjustments, yoga, stretching, only to find out these things actually make it worse for someone like me. My body doesn't need more flexibility it needs stability, rest, and healing. And as you all know, trimming horses isn't exactly easy work

To be honest, the past year I've felt overwhelmed and embarrassed by constantly having to explain what I can’t do:

Why I can't work in cold and damp weather (Raynaud’s and chilblains make it unbearable, causing painful numbness and blisters 🥶).
Why I can't schedule as many horses in a day as I used to and may need to split days.

It's been disheartening and frustrating, especially because this profession places such high value on toughness and "pushing through." I’ve built my entire career around being tough and reliable, and it hurts deeply to feel like my body is letting you down.

But truthfully, it’s kind of a miracle I’ve made it this far, doing what I do, with the body I have.

I keep pushing through because I truly love what I do I love horses, I love hoof care, and I love helping your horses feel and move better. I genuinely want them to be comfortable and happy. Sometimes that means I end up twisted into positions that look like an advanced yoga class I definitely never signed up for. 🤸‍♀️😅 And while I’m proud to adapt to each horse's needs, I now know that my own body pays a price.

So I’m working on a new approach.

I’m learning to build my schedule based on how physically demanding each horse is, not just how many horses I can squeeze into a day. Some horses can be grouped together, but others need their own day, with rest before and after.

When my body tells me its to much, I listen.

If I’ve had to reschedule recently, due to weather or my own physical limitations, please know it weighs heavily on me, I never want to let anyone down. It’s not because I don’t care, it’s because I absolutely do. About your horse, about the quality of my work, and about being healthy enough to keep doing the work I love for years to come. 💪🐴❤️

Thanks again from the bottom of my heart for understanding and sticking with me as I figure out how to better care for this worn but worthy body. My hope is that by taking better care of myself now, I’ll have many more years helping horsesand maybe even enough left over to enjoy some riding when I retire. 🌄💖

09/04/2025

I just read an article by Warwick Schiller that really moved me. The biggest thing I took away was this: consent.

When you touch your horse, have you really gotten their consent? Not just to be touched, but to be touched how you're touching them?

This might be one of the biggest disconnects I see between people and their horses. And so often, folks are completely unaware of it. They don’t notice that their horse is uncomfortable, or shutting down, or tolerating rather than connecting.

For a long time, I couldn’t understand how people missed it. The signs felt so excruciatingly loud to me. A horse would turn their head away, shift their weight, brace slightly, and the person just... kept going. It used to baffle me.

It wasn’t until later that I realized my neurodivergence plays a big role in how I see and feel things. My sensitivity to subtle shifts, micro-expressions, energy changes—those things are part of how I’m wired. And they’ve shaped how I connect with horses. It’s also made me realize just how much gets overlooked when we aren't tuned in.

I use the same awareness when halter training my milk cows. It probably makes me better with horses, honestly—because you can’t get milk out of a cow who hasn’t given you consent. You have to build trust first. You have to listen. It’s not optional—it’s foundational.

I know we need to be able to touch our horses (and cows) all over. But the fastest and kindest way to get there is by starting from a place of mutual respect. By giving the animal a say in how fast you go, where you start, where you stop.

There’s a little black mustang mare I trim who’s known for being “crabby” and “not liking to be touched.” But in our sessions, she seeks contact. When I meet her where she’s at—when I respond to what she’s offering—she softens. She cuddles. She offers me her foot. She’s incredible.

And it’s not magic. It’s just consent. Listening. Slowing down. Respecting her “yes” and her “no.”

I’m really thankful to Warwick for bringing this to light in such a beautiful, heartfelt way. I hope more people begin to pay attention. To get quiet. To feel. To truly see their horses.

INAPPROPRIATE TOUCHING

I'm reading an amazing book called Amphibious Soul by Craig Foster, the Academy award winning documentary film maker of "My Octopus Teacher".

If you haven't read it, I highly recommend it, it is simply profound.

In the book he says "As a rule, I never touch an animal unless they touch me first".

In my work building relationship with horses, I do this too. Most times a horse will touch you with their nose/muzzle first, and matching that greeting (versus labelling the horse as a biter) is a game changer.

But there's a phenomenon I have noticed going on with people trying to build relationship with their horses that I have labelled "inappropriate touching", and it looks a bit like the photo below.

This picture was taken at a horse expo in Pennsylvania recently, where I worked with a demo horse who has a "biting issue". He would reaching out in a way that his owner was termed as nipping, whereas I interpreted as him saying hello, similar to reaching out to shake hands with someone.

When he reached out I would greet him with a flat hand that he is able to to nuzzle, lick or even scrape his teeth on. After doing this a while his snappy acting motions got less so, and he was no longer needing to say "hey, pay attention" , but was more "hey, how's it going". I was explaining to the audience that I was meeting him in the way that he was meeting me (with his muzzle) and that it's not an invitation to touch other parts (yet).

I then said that it's many people's default to reach up and rub a horse between the eyes, whether that's what they are offering or not, and that if you do, it's inappropriate touching and it gets in the way of connection. It doesn't meet their needs, and is all about yours.

With the horse in the picture, he'd been engaging me with his muzzle, and I said to the audience "watch what happens when I try to rub him between the eyes". As you can see in the photo, he has raised his head up and is clearly indicating "No, not there, on my muzzle".

We had a Connection And Attunement retreat here at the Journey On Ranch a week ago, and I used my wife Robyn to illustrate this point to the participants. I said "imagine I'm at a gathering and meeting Robyn for the first time". We walked up to each other in that way people do when they see someone new and they can tell an introduction is shaping up, Robyn reached out with her hand to say hello and instead of me reaching out to shake her hand, I gently reached up and lightly brushed a wisp of hair from her cheekbone and tucked it behind her ear.

The participants all gasped and the ick factor was high.

Even though it was caring, and gentle, it was inappropriate at that moment.

Now Im not saying you can't rub your horse on the forehead. I'm saying if your horse has a disregulated nervous system around humans because they don't feel seen (and safe), try to meet their needs first, before trying get get yours met.

I recently saw an instagram post from a University in the UK, and the professor was explaining that they were doing studies on horses to determine levels of stress. In the background a horse was standing with his head out over a Dutch door. While he was explaining their investigations on stress, a female student (or maybe another professor, I don't know which) walked up to the horse. The horse reached out with his muzzle to greet her.

She ignored this and reached up to rub the horse between the eyes.

He turned his head 90 degrees to the left to communicate that wasn't what he was offering.

Her hand followed him and kept rubbing.

he then turned his head 180 degrees to the right, saying "No, not like that".

Smiled, gave him another pet between the eyes, and walked of camera.

While the professor was saying that they are doing experiments determining the amounts of stress horses are under, someone in the background was actually creating stress, without either of them even knowing it.

Once you understand how sentient horses are, and how subtle their communication, you can't unsee it.

09/04/2025

I just read this article by Warwick Schiller that really moved me.

https://www.facebook.com/share/p/19HebXRiEe/

The biggest thing I took away was this: consent.

When you touch your horse, have you really gotten their consent? Not just to be touched, but to be touched how you're touching them?

This might be one of the biggest disconnects I see between people and their horses. And so often, folks are completely unaware of it. They don’t notice that their horse is uncomfortable, or shutting down, or tolerating rather than connecting.

For a long time, I couldn’t understand how people missed it. The signs felt so excruciatingly loud to me. A horse would turn their head away, shift their weight, brace slightly, and the person just... kept going. It used to baffle me.

It wasn’t until later that I realized my neurodivergence plays a big role in how I see and feel things. My sensitivity to subtle shifts, micro-expressions, energy changes—those things are part of how I’m wired. And they’ve shaped how I connect with horses. It’s also made me realize just how much gets overlooked when we aren't tuned in.

I use the same awareness when halter training my milk cows. It probably makes me better with horses, honestly—because you can’t get milk out of a cow who hasn’t given you consent. You have to build trust first. You have to listen. It’s not optional—it’s foundational.

I know we need to be able to touch our horses (and cows) all over. But the fastest and kindest way to get there is by starting from a place of mutual respect. By giving the animal a say in how fast you go, where you start, where you stop.

There’s a little black mustang mare I trim who’s known for being “crabby” and “not liking to be touched.” But in our sessions, she seeks contact. When I meet her where she’s at—when I respond to what she’s offering—she softens. She cuddles. She offers me her foot. She’s incredible.

And it’s not magic. It’s just consent. Listening. Slowing down. Respecting her “yes” and her “no.”

I’m really thankful to Warwick for bringing this to light in such a beautiful, heartfelt way. I hope more people begin to pay attention. To get quiet. To feel. To truly see their horses.

10/03/2025

🚨 Spring Grass Warning 🚨

It’s starting. That faint green haze in the fields—the tiny sprouts that seem so harmless—are anything but for sensitive horses.

With cold nights and mild days, these sparse little blades of grass are packed with sugar, and your horse is vacuuming them up as fast as they appear. We often think of lush spring pastures as the danger, but laminitis can start now, long before the grass is tall.

I don’t want to see horses in pain this spring when it’s 100% preventable. If your horse is overweight, has a history of laminitis, or is elderly with PPID, do not turn them out on pasture. Dry lot only until grazing conditions are safe. A few bites of these early sprouts can be enough to cause a devastating flare-up.

I’ve seen too many horses go sore from something that could have been avoided. Please don’t wait until it’s too late. If you need guidance on managing your horse’s hooves and turnout this season, I’m here to help.

Let’s keep them sound, happy, and moving comfortably all year long. 💙🐴

21/02/2025

This is the biggest thing missing in almost all of the horses I see today!

04/02/2025

Are We Really Seeing Our Horses?

Yesterday was my first day back trimming hooves after a few weeks of brutal, arctic-like weather. The kind of cold that stiffens everything—hands, joints, even thoughts. But today? Today was perfect.

65 degrees. Sunny. Calm. The kind of day that makes you pause and just breathe.

I was at a client’s place, trimming her horses and meeting a couple of mustangs for the first time. Rescues. Horses from bad situations—some neglected, some abused, all shaped by experiences that taught them humans weren’t safe.

As I trimmed hooves of the other horses, I watched them in their corrals. The way they carried themselves. The way their eyes darted, just for a second, before settling. The way their muscles tightened before relaxing if they relaxed at all.

There’s a moment when you reach toward a horse and they shift away just a hair, so small most people wouldn’t notice. But I do.

There’s a moment when you slip the halter over their nose, and they squint an eye just slightly as if bracing for something they’ve learned to expect.

There’s a moment when they take a treat, but their breath catches, their body stays rigid, and they aren’t really there with you.

What I rarely see is a horse that is truly soft. A horse that is content. A horse that is breathing deeply, responding without tension or resistance not out of compliance, but because they feel seen by their human.

Horses don’t lie the way people do. They don’t say one thing while meaning another. They don’t tell you they’re fine when they aren’t.

But if you don’t see the tiny signs the breath they hold, the way they slightly brace, the fraction of a second delay before they move then it looks like they are masking. It looks like compliance when, in reality, they are just surviving in the only way they know how.

When people say a horse is "shut down," what they really mean is that no one noticed the thousands of tiny moments before that happened the early signs that they were uncomfortable, overwhelmed, unsure. If no one listens long enough, eventually the horse stops speaking.

But the truth is, they never stop. We just stop seeing.

I see this disconnect in both positive reinforcement and pressure-and-release training.

Positive reinforcement teaches horses to offer behaviors for rewards. But just because they engage with us doesn’t mean they feel safe with us. A horse can be reaching for a treat while their body is braced, their mind still guarded. If we aren’t paying attention, we might reinforce compliance rather than true connection.

And then there’s the frantic offering of behaviors the way some horses cycle through everything they know, desperate for reinforcement, not out of joy, but because they don’t know what else to do. They’re trying to get it right.

Pressure and release asks the horse to move off pressure. But if we’re not careful, we can focus so much on getting the right reaction that we miss whether the horse is responding from confidence or fear. Are they learning, or are they simply avoiding the wrong answer?

Neither method is wrong. But both can fail if we aren’t truly seeing the horse.

Maybe I’m thinking about this more lately because I’ve been learning what it means to be neurodivergent in a world that doesn’t always make sense to me.

For a neurodivergent person, the world is overwhelming. Too loud. Too fast. Too full of expectations that feel impossible to meet. The unspoken rules of conversation, the weight of social niceties.

Someone asks, "How are you?" and I know the proper answer is "Fine, everything is good."

Even when it’s not. Even when I want to say, "I’m tired. The world is too loud today. I don’t know how to exist in it without feeling like I’m walking through a storm." But that’s not what people want to hear.

So I say fine.

Horses see through that in people. And so do I.

That’s why I notice the way their breath catches when they take a treat. The way they hesitate, just for a second, before following a cue. The way their eyes dart—not in defiance, not in disrespect, but in a silent question: Am I safe?

And I know that feeling.

I know what it’s like to be "easy to be around" because I’ve learned how to move through the world without making waves. I know what it’s like to have people assume I’m fine because I’ve learned to act fine. I know what it’s like to be seen as calm when inside, my mind is anything but.

And I know what it feels like to finally be seen for who I am, instead of who I’m pretending to be.

That’s what I want for these horses.

I don’t want them to just tolerate humans. I don’t want them to go through the motions of training without ever feeling truly safe. I don’t want them to comply because it’s easier than resisting.

I want them to trust. To feel safe. To feel like they don’t have to be anything other than who they are.

Because isn’t that what we all want?

So next time you’re with a horse, slow down.

Watch the way they breathe.
Feel the energy between you.
Notice the tiniest shifts in their body.
And ask yourself—are they truly with you? Or are they just surviving you?

Because seeing a horse means more than looking at them.
It means understanding them.

And that kind of understanding—it changes everything.

03/12/2024

Saying Goodbye Is the Hardest Part 💔🐴

Every day, I work with horses in pain—it’s the reality of rehabilitative farrier work. I see their struggles up close, and it breaks my heart. I feel the loss of every horse I work on as if they were my own. I grieve alongside their owners because I know how much these animals mean to us.

Horses do so much for us. They carry us—physically and emotionally—through life’s ups and downs. They are our friends, partners, and confidants. They meet us with soft eyes and steady hearts, asking for nothing but care in return. That’s why saying goodbye is so unimaginably hard.

But as much as we want to hold on, we owe it to them to honor their dignity and comfort. Often, I can see it’s time to let go before a vet might because I feel the little changes—the growing stiffness, the deeper exhaustion, the moments when a horse can no longer pick up a foot, even with medication. By the time they reach that point, their bodies have been in pain for a while, and they are simply tired.

I know it’s tempting to hold onto hope, to say,
“They’re eating fine,” or “They’re still in good

weight.” But these things don’t always tell the full story. Pain is quiet and relentless, and it wears them down long before they outwardly give up.

How to Know When It’s Time
If you’re struggling with this decision, consider creating a Horse Health Observation Calendar:

Each day, honestly evaluate your horse.

How are they moving?
Are there signs of pain in their eyes?
Did they eat well?
Can they rest and get up without struggle?

On bad days, mark a red check. On good days, mark a green check.

When the red checks begin to outnumber the green, it’s time to have that heartbreaking conversation with your vet.

Choosing humane euthanasia is never easy, but it’s far kinder to say goodbye one day too early than one day too late. It’s the final gift of love we can give our horses—a peaceful passing after a lifetime of giving us their best.

You’re Not Alone
I know how hard this is because I’ve walked this road with so many horses and their owners. I grieve every horse I’ve had the honor to care for, and I know the weight of this decision. If you’re facing it now, please know I’m here to support you in any way I can.

Our horses give us their hearts; let’s honor them by putting their comfort and dignity first. ❤️

Have you faced this decision before? Your story might help someone else walking this same path.

Photo Credit Brenda Vankeuren