A Horse Shoe that heals

A personal account of lameness, setbacks, and a long road back to balance

When I bought my first horse of my own, I had no idea what I was getting into. At the time, I knew very little about equine health. I still remember the words of a fellow boarder at the stable:

“My horse is dead lame today – he wasn’t shoed by the boss himself, but by one of his assistants.”

I was confused. How could a single shoeing make such a dramatic difference?

She explained what even the smallest change in shoeing can mean for a horse with arthritis. I understood very quickly: a minor mistake can have major consequences.

My mare turned out not to be a Quarter Horse mix, as I had been told, but a former harnessing racehorse. Anyone who has ever watched a harness race knows the unnatural strain these horses are put under. The body pays the price – and she was no exception: bone spavin, navicular changes, and back problems.

Despite all this, she was a wonderful partner on trail rides – until our farrier suddenly became unavailable.

With my second horse, an impressive gelding bred from Landgraf, Grannus, and Mephisto lines, shoeing again played a crucial role. He was shoed at a veterinary clinic with a special therapeutic shoe to support the sacroiliac joint. The effect was remarkable – but in our muddy paddock, the shoes simply wouldn’t stay on.

I began to dive deeper into the subject, spreading sand myself, experimenting with plastic shoes and rolled shoes. Out of sheer desperation, I even began training as an animal naturopath.

At an FN seminar with Dr. Karl Blobel and farrier Dieter Krönert – the farrier for the German eventing team – I learned something fundamental. My horse kept pulling off a front shoe, sometimes several times within one shoeing cycle. Krönert explained:

“It’s not a balance issue – the hoof isn’t leaving the ground fast enough.”

That single sentence was an eye-opener and changed my entire perspective.

We eventually found a farrier who could apply rolled shoes – a rare skill. Unfortunately, he was choleric. My sensitive horse eventually refused to give his feet altogether. Only a calm, patient, empathetic female farrier managed to rebuild trust and routine – and ultimately made it possible to go completely barefoot.

Thanks to proper nutrition, horse-friendly keeping, and homeopathy, my gelding lived many more years sound, comfortable, and content.

Then came Hidalgo. A powerful, exuberant, unbalanced gelding full of life – and full of chronic issues. He, too, pulled off his shoes. The shoes became progressively narrower, his movement increasingly uneven. An experienced farrier diagnosed the problem clearly:

“The hoof shoe is far too narrow – this is damaging the navicular apparatus.”

When Hidalgo developed a tendon swelling, the front shoes were removed entirely. He wasn’t lame, but he was stiff and clearly uncomfortable. So the shoes went back on.

At a new stable, I met a farrier who worked with rolled shoes typically used for laminitis or suspensory ligament injuries. They were perfect for Hidalgo’s needs, supporting both tendons and ligaments. But once again, Hidalgo pulled them off. The farrier eventually gave up.

Another attempt, another farrier – the same pattern: shoes too tight, too little effect, long waiting times.

Finally, a diagnosis: kissing spines . Targeted core training according to Simon Cocozza improved his balance tremendously, and the shoes stayed on more reliably. But the suspensory ligament damage caught up with us. The veterinarian spoke of irreversible, chronic changes.

A severe hoof injury through a long nail brought Hidalgo to the brink. Both the young farrier and the veterinarian advised euthanasia. I chose not to follow that advice.

Instead, I kept searching. I came across reports of hoof healing through barefoot management – but had to abandon that path because Hidalgo dragged his hind hooves so badly that he lost too much hoof substance without shoes. For 3 months I managed to protect his injured hoof with hoof boots. But after days of rain, the ground became so muddy, that he kept losing them. 

An experienced farrier agreed to work with pads, on the condition that the hooves be X-rayed. The veterinarian confirmed the decision. And indeed – Hidalgo became sound again. Riding was no longer an option, but his quality of life returned.

Another move to a new stable. The owners spoke of a “miracle farrier" by the name of Huub, who lives in the Netherlands. I was skeptical – but curious. He believed that pads were not necessarily required. And so another chapter in Hidalgo’s story began…

A horseshoe can heal – or it can destroy.

The art lies in observing closely, listening carefully, and staying the course. In patience, experience, and the willingness to truly understand the horse. Along this journey, I learned not only about hooves – but about life, trust, and healing itself.