About the service
I am a farrier, and I come to the horse rather than asking the horse to come to me. Every visit starts the same way: the animal stands square on level, solid ground, and then someone walks it away from me and back on a hard track. The way a hoof lands, where the weight rolls over, whether the old shoe wears evenly from side to side — none of that can be read with the foot held in my lap. Only afterwards do I pick up a leg and look at the sole, the frog, the bars and the nail holes.
The routine cycle is once every six to eight weeks. Horn grows whether we are ready for it or not, and a wall left long begins to flare and split, the toe runs forward, and the whole limb follows the foot out of balance. I take off the excess wall, dress the bearing edge, and keep the balance honest on both axes — toe to heel and inside to outside. I do not chase the heels down; the frog has to stay in work and carry its share. If the horse goes barefoot on soft ground and the horn is strong, that is the entire job, and I will say so plainly.
When steel is needed, I fit it hot or cold. Hot fitting is the more honest of the two: the scorch mark shows exactly where the shoe sits, and I shape the iron to the foot instead of rasping the foot to the iron. Cold fitting is quieter for a nervous horse and for a yard where an open fire has no place. Nails go into the white line and nowhere else, the height of the exit is chosen by the thickness and soundness of the wall, and the clenches are turned and smoothed so nothing catches.
Winter changes the work: on ice and packed snow I add studs or a gripping pattern, plus pads if the snow balls up underfoot. Orthopedic work — bar and heart-bar shoes, wedges, rolled toes, glue-on and plastic options — is done from the veterinarian's findings. The diagnosis belongs to the vet; my part is to build the foot the prescription asks for, over several cycles if needed, and to report back on what changed. I work slowly and without shouting: ten extra minutes will persuade a young horse where an argument never will.
The routine cycle is once every six to eight weeks. Horn grows whether we are ready for it or not, and a wall left long begins to flare and split, the toe runs forward, and the whole limb follows the foot out of balance. I take off the excess wall, dress the bearing edge, and keep the balance honest on both axes — toe to heel and inside to outside. I do not chase the heels down; the frog has to stay in work and carry its share. If the horse goes barefoot on soft ground and the horn is strong, that is the entire job, and I will say so plainly.
When steel is needed, I fit it hot or cold. Hot fitting is the more honest of the two: the scorch mark shows exactly where the shoe sits, and I shape the iron to the foot instead of rasping the foot to the iron. Cold fitting is quieter for a nervous horse and for a yard where an open fire has no place. Nails go into the white line and nowhere else, the height of the exit is chosen by the thickness and soundness of the wall, and the clenches are turned and smoothed so nothing catches.
Winter changes the work: on ice and packed snow I add studs or a gripping pattern, plus pads if the snow balls up underfoot. Orthopedic work — bar and heart-bar shoes, wedges, rolled toes, glue-on and plastic options — is done from the veterinarian's findings. The diagnosis belongs to the vet; my part is to build the foot the prescription asks for, over several cycles if needed, and to report back on what changed. I work slowly and without shouting: ten extra minutes will persuade a young horse where an argument never will.
