Fireworks

    The dreaded Fourth of July relentlessly approaches.  Of all the USA holidays it is the one I intensely dislike.  I feel it has become sanctioned animal abuse.  I'm talking about the fireworks that proliferate in many communities, and certainly in mine.

    Perhaps I should point out, to those who do not know me personally, I am a green-card carrying Canadian.  Because I am a grey-haired pacifist grandmother of mostly Celtic decent, I'm not yet on ICE's target list, and if I become one, I will happily return to Canada dragging my family with me.  I don't look forward to moving given my age, and I am very, very content on our little horse farm, but I will go if I have to.  Anyway, I grew up in an area in British Columbia where most private fireworks were banned.  I didn't miss them.

    Let's return to the Fourth, the present, and the fireworks in our immediate vicinity.  I admit to enjoying the new shows that use drones and other modern, quiet technologies accompanied by music.  It is the noise of the fireworks that are so common in our town that start long before the Fourth that bother me and my animals.  The explosions may not be legal, but I hear them in the latter part of June.

    So does my dog.  He is one of the 50% of canines who are terrified by the noise.  I use a Thundershirt and chemicals, but he is still a wreck.  Lately, at age 14, he has become a little deaf, so I am hopeful that this year will be a bit more endurable for him. 

    But about the horses:  Sure, I have seen pictures of war horses, but I am perfectly aware they are an exception; the booms are nothing horses willingly tolerate. 

    Most of my horses and ponies are in pastures with access to shelter.  People who don't know horses would think they are okay.  I know better.

    Horses are flight animals.  For horses, running away is a go-to method of avoiding disturbances.  That is why I don't teach lessons around the Fourth.  Even the most placid pony can suddenly spook at an unexpected boom.

    Rarely do my horses start running when the fireworks are detonating about their heads, but it has happened.   There have been years when they frantically gallop around their enclosures until they realize they can't avoid the noise or the lights above their heads. 

    In some cases fireworks are the cause of death in horses.  I can't find the statistics for horses in the United States, but a British study recorded 98 injuries and 20 fatalities over a nine year period.  I would guess the numbers are higher in the United States.  Although there is no hard data, various veterinarian on internet sites mention the problems that arise because of fireworks.

    Stress caused by excessive noise causes horses to get colic.  Colic can be a killer.

    We are fortunate we did not lose one of our best lesson horses to explosions.  Skeeter would never win any beauty contest.  She was a sturdy brown pony large enough to carry most adults, and small enough that children were not intimidated by her size.  Her features were coarse with large ears, and she was blind in her left eye.  Beauty, as often quoted,  is only skin deep.  Inside, Skeeter was beautiful.  Anyone could ride her.  She was much loved and appreciated.

     She was also terrified of loud noises.  I have wondered if she lost her eye in a hunting accident, and that added to her fear of explosions.

    Regardless, the first year we had her, our city had no limitations on fireworks.  It was so bad, one of our cars suffered burned paint caused by burning firecrackers and other incendiaries set off in late June.  People in the neighborhood had a habit of aiming their noisemakers towards our property since we were/are one of the few open spaces in town.  (After we sent a letter to the city, the explosions directed at us have somewhat stopped.)

    That year was Skeeter's first Fourth of July with us, but by the end of June, after days of booms, she was severely ill with colic.  She was so sick we had to trailer her to a veterinarian's property outside of the city limits where he could monitor her, and keep her marginally more comfortable.  Fireworks were well on their way to killing her.  She was saved, but it was a near thing.  I've estimated that her hospital stay cost us the same as a week in a luxury hotel. 

    So it goes.

    Skeeter lived to be in her late 30s, perhaps in her 40s since we never learned her exact birth date. Cancer finally forced her across the Rainbow Bridge.  In the years before her death, we learned to take care of her, and we catered to her fear of loud noises. Weeks before any fireworks were exploded, we hooked up a sound system into her stall.  We would gradually increase the volume as the Fourth approached.  I am a fan of symphonies so we played the local classical radio station for her.  Although I am not an aficionado of most opera, it turns out Skeeter enjoyed the singing.  She seemed to be especially rapt when a tenor voice performed.  By the time the Fourth rolled around we were pumping up the volume as high as it would go.  I didn't care if our neighbors didn't appreciate her choice of music blasting across the pasture.  They had their unmelodic booms, and Skeeter had her opera.  (Actually, no one complained about the music; maybe they shared Skeeter's taste.)

    Since Skeeter passed years ago, we have developed methods of discouraging the fireworks to stay away from our farm.  We leave the barn and arena lights blazing all night.  Our vehicles get tucked out of the range of most of the pyrotechnics.

    Still, I worry about my dog and the equines.  This year we have a new horse and pony.  I am hoping they will be able to stand the stress.

    As usual, I am not looking forward to the Fourth of July.

    Incidentally, happy Canada Day on the first of July.

    May your day be safe and quiet.