I can plan on it every spring
- Michael Remole MA, LCPC, NCC, I/ECHMHC

- 4 days ago
- 6 min read

I love the change from winter to spring--especially when it comes to activities in the barn--especially in the midwest. I always leave the barn covered in the smell of horse and carry an insane amount of horse hair with me everywhere I go. I love this time of year, however, the spring can also bring a wet season with lots of mud. We laugh and joke about each of the horses in the pasture trying to disguise themselves in mud. They don't mind the mud--in fact, they seem to really enjoy the mud. However, standing in the wet, soggy, ground creates the perfect environment for horses to develop abscesses.
I know the routine, get the poultice pad, Epsom salt, vet wrap, and duct tape. I know the routine because it happens quite often with my mare, Ginger. Her sensitive hooves seem to be the perfect environment for abscesses to develop. If you are a clinician, stay with me on this part. This will make sense soon!

The hoof is strong and able to hold steady against the sharp items that they step on. When their hoof is wet from the mud and rain, the hoof is soft and more supple and those little sharp items begin to embed themselves into the hoof and make it's way into the sole of the hoof. If it is not caught in time, that abscess will make it's way up through the hoof and will cause a lot of pain and discomfort as it makes it's way up and out of the hoof wall.
I sat down a while ago with Steve Sermersheim, CJF, TE, AWCF. I asked him a few questions about abscesses and as he provided the answers, my mind started to look at things a little differently---for both horse and human.
When I asked Steve about the signs, he didn't hesitate. The horse will tell you something is wrong — you just have to know what to look for. A high-grade lameness, often just a toe touching the ground at the walk. Heat in the hoof. A bounding digital pulse. Soreness creeping up toward the coronary band. The horse can't say 'this hurts' — but the body is communicating loudly.
I went on to ask Steve about the common mistakes made regarding the treatment of an abscess? Steve confirmed what I'd already learned the hard way with Ginger — waiting is never the right call. He shared that a major mistake is not addressing the problem in a timely manner. Intervening early can save your horse a lot of pain and discomfort. Without our help, the horse is left to wait for that pressure to surface itself--through the hoof wall or out of the coronary band. That migration to the coronary band is painful, slow, and far harder to recover from than if we had caught it early.
Steve walked me through the options: warm Epsom salt soaks to draw the infection out, and when the location is identified, draining directly from the bottom of the hoof. As he shared, I remember the numerous times I sat with Ginger, trying to get her to soak her hoof in the Epsom salt. It was then that we discovered the poultice pads which allowed Ginger the treatment in a more comfortable way. The poultice pads, vet wrap, and duct tape have become musts in our barn--especially during the wet seasons. Getting the right treatment, at the right time, in the right way — it makes all the difference.
As we discussed treatment options, I couldn't help but wonder — what is actually causing Ginger to be so prone to these in the first place? Steve pointed to a few familiar culprits: inconsistent hoof care, not addressing distortions in the hoof wall, irregular trimming and shoeing schedules, and of course the wet, muddy environment that comes with a midwest spring. The prevention side, he said, is straightforward in theory — regular hoof care and a clean, dry environment. Even with consistent care, some things are simply out of our control — and that's where genetics enters the picture.
But then Steve said something that stopped me. Some horses, he explained, are simply more prone to abscesses — genetics can play a real role in the strength and integrity of the hoof wall. My mind immediately went to Ginger. She was bred to be a show horse. My vet, Dr. Mumford, used to laugh and call her a "diva" — and she earned it. Ginger wanted her soft sawdust bedding, avoided hard ground in the pasture, and made her feelings about bugs very well known. That wasn't just personality. That was her history. Ginger's bloodline was bred for the show ring, not the pasture. Generations of Quarter horses selected for beauty and performance in controlled environments meant that toughness underfoot wasn't exactly a priority. What her bloodline passed down wasn't just her color or her stride — it was a vulnerability shaped by the environments her ancestors lived in. Science calls this epigenetics — the way our environment influences which genetic traits get expressed and reinforced across generations. Ginger didn't choose her hooves. Neither do our children choose the nervous systems they inherit.
And that's where Steve's answer stopped being just about horses. The conditions she was raised in literally influenced how her body was built and responded. Sound familiar?
If you're a horse person reading this, stay with me. If you're a therapist reading this, you probably already know where I'm going.
The parallels between what happens inside a horse's hoof and what happens inside a human brain after trauma are hard to ignore — at least they were for me. The work of Dr. Bruce D. Perry, MD, PhD, and the Neurosequential Network has shaped the way I understand the impact of trauma on the brain.

If you have read any of my other blogs or heard me present, you have likely seen this slide from Dr. Perry:
Stress that is unpredictable, severe, and prolonged moves the individual towards a place of vulnerability. Stress that is predictable, moderate and controllable is resilience building.
Let's go back to Ginger and her environment. The wet, soggy ground created the prime conditions for an infection to take hold. It made her hooves vulnerable. The same is true for our environments. Chronic exposure to stress will alter the developing brain, making the lower regions responsible for survival more sensitive and reactive. Just as Ginger's hooves developed around the conditions she was raised in, our brains are literally built by our early experiences.
The brain develops at a rapid rate between birth to five and so it is critical to intervene early to address the trauma. As Steve said--intervening early and providing the appropriate treatment changes everything! Just like the abscess with the hoof--early intervention could allow the abscess to be addressed from the bottom of the hoof, instead of the slow, painful process of moving up through the hoof to the coronary band. The damage is deeper. The treatment is often more intense. Recovery is longer.
The brain is the most malleable early on. Dr. Perry uses a nerf ball vs wire hanger illustration in his book, What Happened To You? Many people think of the brain being like a nerf ball that can be squeezed and external pressures can be put on the outside. Once it's done, the nerf ball will go back to its original shape. However, as Dr. Perry shares, the brain is more like a wire hanger. It will bend and change to fit the environment--but it will never be able to return to its original shape. Ginger's hooves will never be exactly what they were before that first abscess. Neither will a brain that has been shaped by early developmental trauma.
If you have a young child and any of this is resonating, we've put together age-specific resources to help you know what to look for and where to turn.
An abscess can be addressed and the horse can begin to return back to a normal way of movement. However, their hoof has forever been changed. There is now a weak spot in their hoof wall that can make it easier for more infection to get in there. For more abscesses to find a home. While we can address it, the residue is still there. The same as how things are with trauma. Our brains and bodies can begin to heal from the trauma, but the pathways, the memories, and the physiological responses are there. In order to heal, the brain needs many repetitions to help build strength and resilience. Ginger still needs her poultice pads. And some of us still need someone willing to sit with us through the process — showing up consistently, patiently, until healing takes hold.
More on that next time.




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