By Lisa Estridge, Palisades Appaloosas
Lane Bar was a colorful character of a mare with a dozen stories surrounding her. We were not expecting the adventure to begin on her way home from Alabama, but it did! My husband Mitch offered to meet her previous owners halfway between Dothan, Alabama and Kentucky – in Chattanooga, TN.
He hooked up our old dinosaur of a trailer, which was a dark tunnel of a three-horse slant with a rear tack room. That arrangement makes for a narrow doorway through which to load a horse, and is psychologically a challenge for a nervous loader. Plus, being midnight blue inside and out, it was just not inviting to a horse.
When the cheerful sellers loaded Lane Bar into our trailer at the meeting spot in TN, Mitch made mention of her sort of laying down in the middle of it. Laying down? I can’t quite envision that, but that’s what he said. They did get her in and on her way on the second try without too much delay. Mitch and my 11-year-old son Zack headed for home with our new black and white spotted mare, two months in foal. All was well, mission half accomplished!
Back home in Kentucky, I had taken two of our teens to the Sugar Creek Riding Stable where we worked as guides on trail rides. We had just finished a ride at about 2:30 pm when I got a call from Mitch on my cell phone. “Lisa, you’re not going to like this, but I unloaded your mare to stretch her legs at a gas station at about noon, and in two hours we have not gotten her back in the trailer.” Good thing he said I was not going to like this, because that saved me from having to express how MUCH I didn’t like this! Apparently Mitch had offered her a drink of water and she did not want any, so he thought a bit of a walk around the truck stop would be good for her. (Mitch is a unique thinker at times.) For the next two hours, he and several volunteers at the gas station tried to pull and push Lane Bar into the trailer, during which time she had reared up and hit her head a good lick on the top of the doorway. After that, she wanted nothing more to do with the midnight blue trailer or the strange men trying to shove her in it. It was at that point he decided to give up and call Mom.
With a huge sigh, I rushed back to the house and made ready to drive to Knoxville. I gathered anything I could think of that might help me load this mare that I had never met. I took a bucket of grain, a plastic bag to dangle from my whip, a big red lunge line to scoop with from behind, and I called my veterinarian and made arrangements to pick up a shot of tranquilizer which he would leave in the “after hours” flower box in front of the clinic. I loaded up my 7-year-old twin boys, and 8-year-old daughter in our red Suburban, and began the trek to Knoxville at about 5 pm. It was November, so dark was falling early.
About 8 pm, we were nearing the exit off route 75 where Mitch, Zack and the mare were supposed to be waiting. I spotted the large gas station/restaurant and pulled in near the trailer. There stood Mitch nonchalantly leaning on the trailer with my black spotted mare on a rope. Zack sat on the seat of the Ford truck, dangling his legs, totally bored with his long day at the gas station. Apparently he had made dozens of trips into the restaurant sampling chicken fingers and potato wedges until he could eat no more. They had also bought some apples and cut them up to tempt lane bar - without success. I gathered my supplies and went to meet Lane Bar.
The mare seemed calm since they had quit trying to load her for the last hour or so, and I brushed and petted her and we walked around the parking lot. There were not many cars there at that time, and everyone had grown bored with the drama after the first few hours. After a bit of getting to know me, I led her up to the trailer, where she would put in a foot, maybe two, but go no further. I offered some grain, and she ate it gratefully, but did not offer to add her back legs to the front ones in the trailer. I tried tapping her with my lunge whip and baggie behind and then lunging right into the trailer, without luck. The baggie just heightened her anxiety and resistance. The red nylon “butt rope” was also just another item to resist against. This mare was going to walk on by herself or nothing, that was for sure. At 9 pm, I gave the shot of Ace, with no visible effect. She did not appear sedated at all, but then I wasn’t really expecting any magic from drugs, just grasping at straws. We returned to the original approach with me standing in the trailer and asking her to step in, no pressure.
There we stood, Lane bar and I, halfway in the trailer and not making much progress. A young cowboy happened to stop in the gas station and sized up the situation. He peeked around Lane Bar to talk to me and offered to go get some more grain from his farm near by. We had used up the feed I had brought, so I thanked him and said that was a great idea! She and I stood quietly while he was gone, and I made occasional suggestions that she move forward; she was considering the idea and reviewing her options. After all, we were now old friends of an hour and a half. I seemed to be pretty gentle, and she was just a wee bit relaxed from that shot.
The cowboy came back right quickly and brought with him an l8 percent sweet feed, sticky with molasses and rich as a newly baked brownie. He handed a bucket of this aromatic mixture past Lane Bar to me and the mountain moved! Lane Bar followed that food into the trailer! I backed up with my lead line, and with her coming toward me, I hissed at Mitch to SHUT THAT DOOR! And a quiet applause erupted from everyone at the truck stop. It had taken 9 l/2 hours to get Lane Bar back in the trailer.
I got Lane Bar tucked in, and I had to climb out the window since there was no escape door in this trailer, and I sure as heck was not opening that back door. Back in the Suburban, I drove north on 75, with my sleeping kids, and Mitch was once again on his way home with Lane Bar in the trailer. He must have called me on the cell phone, and I got a voice message. “Lisa, I got into a real mess today, and you came and bailed me out. Thank you, I love you.” A girl doesn't get many messages like that; it was almost worth it! Lane Bar arrived at her new barn in Kentucky at about 1 am, one day after she left Alabama. But who’s counting?
Lane Bar was a colorful character of a mare with a dozen stories surrounding her. We were not expecting the adventure to begin on her way home from Alabama, but it did! My husband Mitch offered to meet her previous owners halfway between Dothan, Alabama and Kentucky – in Chattanooga, TN.
He hooked up our old dinosaur of a trailer, which was a dark tunnel of a three-horse slant with a rear tack room. That arrangement makes for a narrow doorway through which to load a horse, and is psychologically a challenge for a nervous loader. Plus, being midnight blue inside and out, it was just not inviting to a horse.
When the cheerful sellers loaded Lane Bar into our trailer at the meeting spot in TN, Mitch made mention of her sort of laying down in the middle of it. Laying down? I can’t quite envision that, but that’s what he said. They did get her in and on her way on the second try without too much delay. Mitch and my 11-year-old son Zack headed for home with our new black and white spotted mare, two months in foal. All was well, mission half accomplished!
Back home in Kentucky, I had taken two of our teens to the Sugar Creek Riding Stable where we worked as guides on trail rides. We had just finished a ride at about 2:30 pm when I got a call from Mitch on my cell phone. “Lisa, you’re not going to like this, but I unloaded your mare to stretch her legs at a gas station at about noon, and in two hours we have not gotten her back in the trailer.” Good thing he said I was not going to like this, because that saved me from having to express how MUCH I didn’t like this! Apparently Mitch had offered her a drink of water and she did not want any, so he thought a bit of a walk around the truck stop would be good for her. (Mitch is a unique thinker at times.) For the next two hours, he and several volunteers at the gas station tried to pull and push Lane Bar into the trailer, during which time she had reared up and hit her head a good lick on the top of the doorway. After that, she wanted nothing more to do with the midnight blue trailer or the strange men trying to shove her in it. It was at that point he decided to give up and call Mom.
With a huge sigh, I rushed back to the house and made ready to drive to Knoxville. I gathered anything I could think of that might help me load this mare that I had never met. I took a bucket of grain, a plastic bag to dangle from my whip, a big red lunge line to scoop with from behind, and I called my veterinarian and made arrangements to pick up a shot of tranquilizer which he would leave in the “after hours” flower box in front of the clinic. I loaded up my 7-year-old twin boys, and 8-year-old daughter in our red Suburban, and began the trek to Knoxville at about 5 pm. It was November, so dark was falling early.
About 8 pm, we were nearing the exit off route 75 where Mitch, Zack and the mare were supposed to be waiting. I spotted the large gas station/restaurant and pulled in near the trailer. There stood Mitch nonchalantly leaning on the trailer with my black spotted mare on a rope. Zack sat on the seat of the Ford truck, dangling his legs, totally bored with his long day at the gas station. Apparently he had made dozens of trips into the restaurant sampling chicken fingers and potato wedges until he could eat no more. They had also bought some apples and cut them up to tempt lane bar - without success. I gathered my supplies and went to meet Lane Bar.
The mare seemed calm since they had quit trying to load her for the last hour or so, and I brushed and petted her and we walked around the parking lot. There were not many cars there at that time, and everyone had grown bored with the drama after the first few hours. After a bit of getting to know me, I led her up to the trailer, where she would put in a foot, maybe two, but go no further. I offered some grain, and she ate it gratefully, but did not offer to add her back legs to the front ones in the trailer. I tried tapping her with my lunge whip and baggie behind and then lunging right into the trailer, without luck. The baggie just heightened her anxiety and resistance. The red nylon “butt rope” was also just another item to resist against. This mare was going to walk on by herself or nothing, that was for sure. At 9 pm, I gave the shot of Ace, with no visible effect. She did not appear sedated at all, but then I wasn’t really expecting any magic from drugs, just grasping at straws. We returned to the original approach with me standing in the trailer and asking her to step in, no pressure.
There we stood, Lane bar and I, halfway in the trailer and not making much progress. A young cowboy happened to stop in the gas station and sized up the situation. He peeked around Lane Bar to talk to me and offered to go get some more grain from his farm near by. We had used up the feed I had brought, so I thanked him and said that was a great idea! She and I stood quietly while he was gone, and I made occasional suggestions that she move forward; she was considering the idea and reviewing her options. After all, we were now old friends of an hour and a half. I seemed to be pretty gentle, and she was just a wee bit relaxed from that shot.
The cowboy came back right quickly and brought with him an l8 percent sweet feed, sticky with molasses and rich as a newly baked brownie. He handed a bucket of this aromatic mixture past Lane Bar to me and the mountain moved! Lane Bar followed that food into the trailer! I backed up with my lead line, and with her coming toward me, I hissed at Mitch to SHUT THAT DOOR! And a quiet applause erupted from everyone at the truck stop. It had taken 9 l/2 hours to get Lane Bar back in the trailer.
I got Lane Bar tucked in, and I had to climb out the window since there was no escape door in this trailer, and I sure as heck was not opening that back door. Back in the Suburban, I drove north on 75, with my sleeping kids, and Mitch was once again on his way home with Lane Bar in the trailer. He must have called me on the cell phone, and I got a voice message. “Lisa, I got into a real mess today, and you came and bailed me out. Thank you, I love you.” A girl doesn't get many messages like that; it was almost worth it! Lane Bar arrived at her new barn in Kentucky at about 1 am, one day after she left Alabama. But who’s counting?
