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| Cribbing...oh, the horrors of it all! |
| by June V. Evers |
Copyright 2007. If you’re new to this newsletter, this is an e-newsletter that promotes our radio show every Saturday morning. It also promotes area horse farms with a FREE classified and resource section below. (The more successful horse farms and area hay-producing farms, the more land will remain undeveloped because we can all afford to stay here.) Also, we have a section for rescues. Please feel free to add anything to this free newsletter. And, if you’re new, I introduce you to Beasley, my little PMU foal from North Dakota I adopted in 2000. (I joke around that I have taken this horse who was turned out 24/7 in the winters at the border of Canada in North Dakota and I single-handedly have turned him into the hugest wimp. More on that later.) He is, however, the apple of my eye and I have learned so much training him over the years. He is now 7 and just the sweetest thing....But as a previous reader....we all know that I’ve been “had”...additionally, pooped on, pee’ed on, eaten manure (that’s another story too), fallen into that liquid gook at the bottom of a manure pile (same story as the eaten manure one), crushed by hooves, etc. Anyway, each issue of this e-newsletter, I write about Beasley and what has happened to me. Today, we talk about cribbing.THE ISSUE OF CRIBBING:We used to board horses and one of our stipulations was “No cribbers!” No our stipulation was...ABSOLUTELY NO CRIBBERS. Es ist verboten...Nein, Non! No-friggin’ way! THere was no deviation from this policy. I adopted Beasley without knowing he was a cribber. When I went to the rescue that had the PMUs out for adoption, he was in a paddock and I think he was too shell-shocked to crib. I mean he had just traveled half the country (the poor little thing and he was wretched, skinny and wormy) to come to NY to find a home. So when we got him home, he still didn’t crib until one or two days afterwards. I remember standing at the fence and watching him go over to the fenceline and start to crib. I was horrified. NO CRIBBERS was my mantra! The sound made my skin crawl. The wood that was affected by his cribbing made my ire stand up. The slobber all over from him drooling all over the boards - just plain UGH! And fetid food stuck into boards....UGH, UGH! Not to mention that thick neck he would eventually have. UGH again! So I started with all sorts of straps. Adding fuzzies to the cribbing strap so it wouldn’t ruin his mane. Then one day I was talking to a long time horseman who said, “As long as he doesn’t colic, why don’t you just let him crib.” I had been complaining to him about the straps. The Miracle Collar seemed to hurt the area right before his ears and the nut cracker one made me concerned about choking. (We feed hay cubes.) He was terribly head shy when we got him due to ear wrenching at the PMU ranch. And, this pain in front of his ears from the Miracle Collar only made him more head shy. So I pulled the strap off and watched. Initially, I clapped my hands over my ears from the sound. Grunt, grunt, grunt...UGH, ugh, ugh...grunt, grunt, grunt, UGH, ugh, ugh!. After time, I got used to it. And, he isn’t such a detrimental cribber that he pulls fencing down. In fact, he hardly cribs outside at all. I noticed he cribs when he’s nervous about something or during a meal. When he’s dining, he has a wonderful time, eating, cribbing, chewing, and wagging his weenie. Now, his cribbing has become an accent - sort of his own kind of equine punctuation if you will - to certain things he does, hears, etc. And he always seems to crib at the exact moment that something is said that he disagrees with. We all may be standing at the fence commenting on today’s politics or something and then boom, he cribs and usually at the absolute right moment. Here we are...”You know that George Bush...” and grunt, grunt, grunt response from Beasley. “We just put up $8,000 worth of fencing...” grunt, grunt, grunt...right on that expensive fencing....He has such timing!!
I also like to watch seasoned horse people and their response to his cribbing. When they visit our barn and hear the sound, their heads immediately swivel rapidly towards the sound and it just makes them cringe. They scrunch over in response and literally recoil in horrification. And, people who don’t know cribbers, think he’s burping.
I now consider it part of his unique personality. In fact a few years ago, I took him to Sussex and showed him in 2-year-old Non-TB In Hand. He placed 3rd in the class of 4. I was so excited I ran over to the fence with the ribbon and in front of all these hardened horse people, Beasley goes “grunt, grunt!” and as if to add his two cents “grunt, grunt!” (Yeah, I know I’m an infant...at 40 running over to a fence with a 50-cent ribbon “grunt, grunt” and excitedly yammering about it....) So crib on Beasley!!!!! Grunt, grunt, grunt. Ugh, ugh, ugh that’s my crib back atcha babe! (Wouldn’t it be funny if I started cribbing while waiting in line at the post office or the bank?..?..)
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