07/28/2025
When Barefoot Just Doesn’t Cut It
(From a barefoot trimmer who believes the horse gets the final word)
I work barefoot.
It’s what I’m trained in. It’s what I specialise in. And I’ve seen it change lives—horses restored to soundness, movement returned, pathology reversed, quality of life improved.
But I’ve also seen horses suffer in silence under the banner of “natural is best.”
Let me be clear:
Barefoot is a powerful, often underused option. But it’s not a one-size-fits-all solution.
And when we start treating it like a belief system instead of a tool, we lose sight of the most important voice in the conversation: the horse’s.
Here’s the part we have to get comfortable saying—even in barefoot circles:
Sometimes, barefoot just isn’t enough.
Not forever.
Not as a condemnation of the method.
But as a recognition that some feet, in some horses, in some environments, at some points in time, need more protection than a hoof wall and a well-timed trim can provide.
I’m talking about:
The long-term laminitic with a compromised capsule and inadequate sole depth
The metabolic horse whose pain threshold is so altered that even minimal concussion creates a setback
The structurally collapsed hoof trying to bear weight on bone that no longer has a supportive foundation
The transitioning horse whose environment doesn’t allow for protection, movement, or control of stimulus
The chronically sore horse expected to just “work through it” because it’s “part of the healing process”
This isn’t failed barefoot.
This is a horse clearly communicating that it’s not coping—and continuing anyway isn’t noble. It’s painful.
“But what about hoof boots?”
A fair and important question.
Hoof boots have changed the game. They allow many horses to transition successfully, protect their feet on abrasive terrain, and move freely in comfort during healing phases. I recommend and use them often.
But they are not a silver bullet.
And when we promote them as a universal answer, we overlook reality.
Because some horses:
Can’t tolerate boots due to hoof shape, rubs, or behavioural stress
Lose boots repeatedly in mud, herd turnout, or deep going
Require 24/7 protection that a boot simply can’t provide (nor is it safe to expect it to)
Improve only when they receive consistent, structural support that boots don’t offer
And some owners:
Can’t afford multiple boot sets, pads, gaiters, and regular replacements
Don’t have the time, mobility, or support to remove, clean, reapply, and monitor boots daily
Are doing their best already, and being told “just boot it” oversimplifies what’s really needed
Hoof boots are a phenomenal tool. But they’re not a moral obligation.
And they’re not always enough.
So what happens when barefoot—with boots, with pads, with good trim, with good diet—still isn’t working?
Sometimes, the answer is a composite.
Sometimes, it’s a shoe.
Sometimes, it’s collaboration with a vet or farrier to protect the horse while we sort out the underlying causes.
This isn’t a betrayal of barefoot.
It’s hoof care that responds to what’s actually happening, not what we wish was happening.
As a barefoot trimmer, my job isn’t to make every horse conform to a method.
My job is to protect function, restore integrity, relieve pain, and serve the individual horse.
That sometimes means waiting.
Sometimes adapting.
And yes—sometimes stepping back and saying,
“This horse needs something I don’t provide.”
That’s not failure.
That’s professional ethics.
So if your barefoot horse is:
Still sore between trims
Moving tentatively or toe-first for months
Needing boots full-time without improvement
Unable to cope barefoot in turnout
Gradually losing quality of life instead of gaining it…
…it might be time to reassess.
Not because barefoot failed.
But because your horse’s reality matters more than your philosophy.
I’ve seen barefoot transform horses—and I will keep advocating for it where it fits.
But I’ve also seen barefoot misused as a badge of purity, where pain was reframed as “transition,” and suffering excused in the name of “natural.”
The real benchmark of good hoof care?
Not the method. Not the theory. Not the label.
Comfort. Function. Soundness. Stability.
Because your horse doesn’t care whether it’s barefoot, booted, or shod.
They care whether it hurts.
And that should always be the deciding factor.