Horse Hair: It Tastes Just Like Chicken

Yesterday Lexi and Wally got body shaved. I elected not to do the deed this year as my arm has been bothering me a lot lately (the after effects of an old jumping accident) and hefting an industrial-sized pair of horse clippers for 2 hours didn't seem like a good idea. Plus, what's money for if not to fritter away on our horses? So I hired Casey Warren, a local professional groomer, to do the clipping chores. Besides, she's much more experienced at it than me, which translates into her also being much faster. I tend to body shave as if I'm mowing a lawn. I lead the clippers back and forth in monotonous pathways while Casey zips along furiously. The whole horse is stripped of its winter woolies before it has a chance to decide if it enjoys going to the hairdresser. Or not.

Wally thought the whole procedure was a mildly sensuous massage. He craned his neck forward, stretched his lips and went, "Ah!"

Lexi, on the other hand, most certainly figured we were torturing her. She never did anything bad, she was just wiggly and squiggly. Her exclamations were more like, "Ooh, ick, noooo!"

Meanwhile, I got a real taste for Casey's job. Literally. Even though I was merely holding the lead rope of both horses, I ended up with horse hair in my eyes, in my ears, wedged into the seams of my parka and stuck to the chapstick on my lips. It's no wonder Casey wears a disposable paper mask while clipping. She doesn't want to inhale the stuff.

The end result was worth the discomfort, however, as now both of my horses dry quickly after a workout and that makes grooming in the winter time so much easier. The down side? This means I have to blanket Wally and Lexi every night. If it's windy, dark or feeding time, that chore is akin to putting clothes on an eel.

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