Whose Health is This, Anyway?

My students will tell you I am an incurable skeptic when it comes to nutritional supplements and miracle health products. I scoff at costly ingestions promising to improve your horse's vitality or give him younger joints. My rationale goes like this: supplement manufacturers are just in the business of making money, not helping horses. There is no hard science or drug regulations behind these products and most don't accomplish half of what they claim.



Generally, my students turn a deaf ear to my sound advice, though, and buy all kinds of powders and potions for their steeds. They pretend not to see my eye- rolling and head waggling. At the end of the day, my students are happy with their efforts and that's what counts, not my stern attempt to educate them about nutrition.



Nowadays, any time I begin to tell someone not to buy an unnecessary supplement, I recall an equine nutrition lecture I attended a few years ago. In it, I listened to a veterinarian dispel the benefits of hot bran mashes, which sounded like blasphemy to the audience. Mashes have been touted by equestrians through history as the means to and maintenance of horse health. If one's horse suffered anything from lameness to colic to itchy skin, one gave him a bran mash. By the time he took his first bite, it was believed he was well on his way to wellness.



So, what were we to do with this vet's news?



He went on to explain that it was impossible to heat up a bran mash-- or anything, for that matter-- to a point that would increase a horse's core temperature. It was scientifically untrue that a mash warmed him from head to hoof. Thus, he advised us, we could go on feeding mashes if we liked, but just understand that no benefits would be reaped. A disgruntled audience member raised her hand.



"I would like to disagree," said the local barn owner. "Maybe you should consider that feeding my horse a bran mash makes ME feel good. And isn't that a benefit?"



She spoke wisely. Maybe measurable health improvements are of secondary importance. Perhaps what really counts is that WE feel better when we apply a certain salve or supplement. Or bran mash.



For years, I prided myself for not falling into this trap. One can spend a lot of money on equine supplements and gadgets. All those companies making powders for this and that didn't prey on my checkbook. The rubber balls promising to bring one's horse hours of enjoyable activity in his paddock? Forget it. The $10 peppermint flavored bit wipes? Nope. The granules of vitamins to make his hooves stronger? No thanks.

Then, something strange happened last week. A weakness cracked my normally curmudgeonly ways. It happened on a trip to the local feed and tack store for necessary supplies like fly spray, lead ropes, and leather cleaner. I execute this routine monthly, visiting the same shelves for the same products every time. I bypass the large displays of hokey gadgets and gizmos for horses-- neon stall toys, gourmet heart-shaped treats, garish fly masks with sparkly crystals. As I zoom past on my way to the fly spray shelf, I wonder what fools actually buy this stuff?

On my way to the fly spray shelf this time, I stopped for reasons unknown in the section of the store filled with kitschy things and examined a table display for a new product promising health and vigor for one's horse. Here, where I normally would have rolled my eyes and kept walking past, I grabbed a glossy brochure about Red Rock Mineral Supplement. The display looked to me exactly like a bin filled with chunks of stone blasted from a roadway construction project. For $15, a person could buy one of these rocks and take it home to his or her horse. I stood there reading about the "special" mineral qualities of these very normal looking rocks, the "healing properties," and their "highly balanced electrolyte" composition. It all sounded good.

I grabbed one of the rocks and turned the dusty chunk over in my hands. At first, my inner skeptic wondered what clever cow farmer had harrowed these up while clearing a field and then decided to monetize them on us loose-wallet horse folks. But my newly weak mind countered, no, surely these rocks--while appearing nothing but ordinary pasture rocks-- must have come from a special place and have special properties and be really...well, special. I pictured my horse becoming glossier from head to tail and then turning into a super athlete after such an infusion of minerals and vitamins. Suddenly, I couldn't picture her life without this rock in it. How had she made it this far in good health without it?

I hurried to the checkout counter with my pile of barn essentials and the rock. At first, the cashier looked at the rock like something I carried in from the parking lot. He glanced at it quizzically a few times while tallying my other purchases. Then an expression of recognition pulled at the corners of his eyes and mouth. He stifled a smirk as he asked "So, you're going to try one of our new mineral blocks, eh?" The way he said it made me feel like the first statistic in a store wide betting pool. I imagined he and his colleagues laughing at the display box of rocks when it arrived, slapping each other on the back, chortling about the kind of fool who would buy one.

There I was, the first fool. I clung to the promises in the glossy brochure, though, as I drove straight to the barn. Part of me assumed my horse Harmony would greet me like a kid at Halloween, prancing eagerly on her side of the stall door wondering what I had in my hands for her. She would likely chomp down on the block or lick it insatiably, I told myself. And then, pausing, she might glance up at me as if to say how did you know this is what I needed?

Of course none of this happened. Harmony took no notice of the rock as I put it in her stall. She didn't even sniff it. After five minutes, I went back into her stall and led her over to it. I rubbed the rock with my fingers and then held them to her lips so she could lick off the mineral goodness. She ignored me. Oh well, I told myself, maybe it's just the wrong time of day. Later on, she might experience a mineral deficiency and be grateful for her new rock. I couldn't deny that a few big lick marks on that rock the following day would satisfy me immensely.

Instead, I arrived at her stall and saw one corner of the rock buried in shavings. The other end was under a pile of poop. Rather than admit that the rock was a silly purchase, I maintained hope that magical properties lurked in it. Sure, those properties might be buried under manure right now. But they were there, right? Outside, I hosed it off and scrubbed it clean, then patted it dry and put it directly in Harmony's grain bucket to entice her.

The following day she found a way to tip her bucket and dump the rock. She then pushed it to the corner of her stall and urinated on it. Crestfallen, I began to realize this not-so-magical mineral supplement was nothing but a waste of $15, just like my normal curmudgeonly self would have known. I gave Harmony one full week with her rock and she never licked it once. Eventually I removed it from her stall and tossed it out, feeling low in spirits. Granted, most of what I felt was sorry for myself. I had to concede that all along, I hoped for the enjoyment of the rock not from Harmony's perspective but from my own. It would have given me a little spring in my step to see her lapping something that I--her wonderful, caring, selfless owner-- got for her.

In writing this, I hope to convince those companies that make oodles of money from equestrians buying their useless products to change the labeling on them. They can continue to promise fictitious health benefits if they wish. But they shall also add in bold print: Warning. Using this product may not lead to measurable gains in your own satisfaction and happiness. It is for horses only. For your own mental well-being and pride, you may seek therapy or other means.