As any serious hay shopper will tell you, the fibre market in the Fraser Valley is a tricky place to do business.
There are guys who will sell you mouldy hay off the back of a pickup for a few bucks a bale. Then there are hay brokers who sell by the ton — decent quality, decent price. The trouble is the variety of hay they bring seems to shrink in transit. My hay shed holds three tons. You can imagine my surprise when one dreamer tried to charge me for the five tons he swore he had when he left his farm.
Beware also of the tricky hay floggers who capitalize on the growing demand for the low-sugar, low-protein hay ideal for easy keepers. Some of the hay tests they use to get premium dollars for crummy hay have been used to sell six different cuttings on several different fields. One hay test I got was dated the year before. When I pointed out the stale date to the hay guy, he feigned shock: “Must have been a mixup at the lab.”
Most newbie horse owners start by buying hay like milk or bread: a few bales here and there, when they’ve almost run out. They pay full retail, and their horses are constantly trying to adapt to a different kind of hay every month, a metabolic roller coaster.
Most horse keepers eventually develop a long-term relationship with a reputable hay broker or farmer who consistently delivers good stuff at a good price. For years, I had a happy relationship with a hay grower in the Valley who took great pride in his product, and always dropped off hay tests and test bales for our geldings to sample before I booked my winter order.
Our horses thrived on his forage. He even tucked away a few hundred extra bales for delivery in case we ran out before spring. He rated his customers by the cleanliness of their hay shed. The worst thing he ever said about anybody was: “His hay maw was godawful!”
This year, however, things went terribly wrong. After munching through a couple of tons of grass hay, our geldings suddenly refused to eat. Even the Haflinger, who has broken through sturdy fencing to get a bite of a dandelion, turned his well-padded behind on his morning flake. Eventually they would relent, but consumed a lot less than normal.
When the temperatures began to drop, so did their weight. For the first time in history, ribs were sighted on our farm. At first I was pleased to have trim horses, at an ideal weight, then worried when the weight loss continued. Soon I was rubbing tail gates with the newbie horse owners at the feed store buying bales of high-test hay to fatten up the geldings. These bales were hoovered to the last leaf. The old hay I mixed with it ended up in the manure pile.
Then came an outbreak of male menopause in the herd: one by one, the boys began to sweat. The first morning our Haflinger greeted us, belly and legs dripping with sweat on a cold morning, we called the vet. Sweating is a symptom of colic. The vet treated him for colic, but expressed doubt that it was colic. His temperature was normal, and a blood test showed no sign of infection. The sweating, according to the vet, could be a reaction to pain. But what pain? Then the other two exhibited the same symptoms.
Worry was turning to panic. Could it be the hay? I called a reputable hay broker who sold tested hay, good hay, and begged for some first cut Timothy. I also asked if he could take away the ton of hay I described as possibly ‘bad.’ He paused, and asked where I got the hay from. Then the broker told me about a frantic call he just got from a woman who bought several tons of hay from so and so. I froze. Same guy. Same story. Same hay.
I didn’t say, not wanting to damage the reputation of my friend the hay farmer.
So I ordered several tons of tested Timothy, and called the hay farmer and asked him if he would come and get his hay. I didn’t ask for a refund. He is not a wealthy guy, and supports a family on the sales of his hay.
He came immediately, and was clearly upset. He looked at my thin, sweating, miserable horses and expressed his sincere regret. I felt sorry for him, and he felt sorry for me. Our long-term relationship ended on a sad but pleasant note.
What happened? It could have been a poisonous plant in the hay, and toxicity built up in our horses over a period of time. It could have been mould, but minus the tell-tale coughing.
Slowly but surely, things are returning to normal. The sweating is subsiding, the ribs are disappearing under a thin layer of insulating fat. The boys are squabbling over treats again, and play fighting in the pasture.
I learned another lesson about buying hay from all this, a very expensive lesson. Hay tests are a valuable tool. Equine nutritionists are also key to figuring out fodder. But horses are the real forage experts. My horses were trying to tell me something. I just didn’t listen.
accidentalrider@yahoo.com
