Notes from Maine - 2026/03/22

Here in Maine, winter is sinking its claws in, trying to stick around until April. We’re getting snow this morning. Last night, Albert (dog) and I drove the truck through the pasture to drop off a big load of shavings. I could only get to within fifty feet (15m) of the barn before we sank into the mud. Still, it was nice to not have to carry everything around from the driveway.

This morning, the mud is hidden under a fresh white blanket. The barn is open so the horses can escape the flakes, but right now they’re out in the pasture eating hay. Earl (Shire horse) has a sore foot. He gets them every spring. 

The vet said, “Once they have an abscess once, they’re more than likely going to get them again.”

I said, “You said that last year.”

There was a moment of silence. I heard what he didn’t say—“Well, you should have listened.”

Listen or not, it doesn’t matter. There’s really nothing I would change. An abscess for a horse is a little pocket of infection in their hoof that causes temporary lameness. For Earl, he limps around the pasture until the neighbors bring him carrots. The preventative measures for a foot abscess are either things I’m already doing, or things I can’t help.

“Have the farrier visit every four to six weeks.” 

Of course.

“Provide a balanced diet.”

He gets all the hay and grain that the vet recommends.

“Keep the horse living in clean and dry conditions.”

This is probably the reason that Earl gets his abscesses in March. There’s not a clean or dry paddock in the entire state right now. That’s just not how March works. They don’t call it, “mud season,” like one of those funny, opposite nicknames, like calling a short guy, “Stretch,” or a brunette, “Red.” It’s mud season. It might as well be called, “Abscess Season.”

He’ll get over it soon enough. I soak his foot in warm water and Epsom salts several times a day, and give him a little painkiller in his food. His daughter Lilly (the little filly) had her first birthday this week. She’s still adorable. Lilly likes to run around in the mud, sliding to a stop whenever she can. For her birthday she got apples and carrots. She jumped up—all four feet off the ground—when she saw them. Of course Maybelle and Earl got some too, but it was her day. Her parents share a birthday in April. She’ll get some of their treats as well.

After a couple of decades it’s difficult to imagine living without horses as part of my family. When people mention that they’re going on a trip or that they were laid up in bed for a couple of days with a cold, the first thing that jumps into my mind is, “Who is taking care of your horses?” Other people’s families don’t have horses—they have kids or whatever. It’s difficult to imagine.

It’s still snowing. I know it won’t last. I mean, it’s going to snow all day, but it’s too warm out for snow. By tomorrow—Tuesday at the latest—it will have melted into more mud to contend with. I suppose it’s better than the alternative. A spring drought has ramifications all year. 

Albert and I will go back outside in an hour and take care of the midday chores. Lilly always rushes over to help. By noon she’s weary of hanging out with her parents. All they ever want to do is eat hay. She likes the excitement of helping me do chores. She’ll try to put her whole face in a bucket as it’s filling with water. She’ll try to pull a hay bale out your hands as you carry it. Lilly is getting too big for such things—she’s almost taller than her mother. Eventually, Maybelle will call and Lilly will run back over to find out why she has been summoned. Those calls come less and less frequently now though. Lilly has a lot of independence. At a year old, she should. The family stays together for the most part, but a one-year-old can go off on their own adventures from time to time.