Hoofology

25/07/2025

BIOTIN: THE SUPPLEMENT THAT WON’T DIE QUIETLY
(This one may ruffle a few manes...)

If there were a popularity contest in the feed room, biotin would win hands down. You’ll find it in every tack shop, every glossy supplement catalogue, and every “brittle hooves” conversation online. It’s the darling of hoof care marketing – but is it truly the cornerstone of hoof health it's made out to be?

WHAT IS BIOTIN, ACTUALLY?
Biotin (vitamin B7) is a water-soluble B-vitamin involved in many metabolic processes, including fatty acid synthesis, protein metabolism, and – yes – keratin formation. Keratin is the key structural protein in hooves, so the logic seems sound: more biotin = better hooves.

And in some cases, that’s not entirely wrong.

SHOULD EVERY HORSE BE ON BIOTIN?
Here’s the part that tends to ruffle feathers: most horses don’t need biotin supplementation.
Why? Because biotin is produced in the horse’s hindgut by microbial fermentation, and in a healthy horse on a forage-based diet with good hindgut function, there’s usually plenty to go around. In fact, true biotin deficiency is extremely rare.

We’re not talking about a bit of flaring or slow growth here. We’re talking about systemic deficiency signs: severely degraded hoof horn, coat and skin changes, often in combination with gut dysfunction or long-term antibiotic use. Even then, biotin deficiency is rarely the primary issue – it’s a downstream consequence of poor gut health or dietary imbalance.

The clinical trials that showed benefit used 20mg per day of pure biotin, for 6–9 months, in horses with clinically poor hooves – not in the average horse with minor cosmetic chipping. And even in those cases, the results were variable.

For the vast majority of horses, adding extra biotin on top of an already functional system doesn’t “boost” anything. It just creates very expensive p*e.

WHAT HAPPENS IF A HORSE DOESN’T GET EXTRA BIOTIN?
In a horse with a functioning hindgut and a forage-based diet: probably nothing.
In a horse with compromised gut flora? Possibly crumbly horn, slow growth, or poor skin/coat quality. But again, that’s a gut health issue – not a hoof problem that a hoof supplement will fix in isolation.

HOW LONG BEFORE YOU SEE RESULTS?
If biotin is going to help, it’ll take time – usually 6 to 9 months, which is how long it takes for new horn to grow down from the coronet. You won’t “fix” a cracked hoof with a tub of biotin in 8 weeks. The old horn won’t change – and the new growth will only reflect improvements if the underlying cause was biotin-related to begin with.

SO WHY DO SO MANY PEOPLE SWEAR BY IT?
Because hoof horn is constantly growing and responding to management.
When owners add biotin, they often also change the trim cycle, clean up the diet, or just give the horse more time. By the time they see improvement, it's hard to tease apart cause and effect. That’s not a knock on observation – just a reminder of how tricky biological systems can be to interpret.

WHEN DO I RECOMMEND BIOTIN?
Rarely. Only when there's reasonable evidence of a need: post-antibiotics, chronic poor horn quality despite good management, or in rehab horses with clear systemic issues that could affect hindgut production. Even then, I prioritise gut health, mineral balance, and correct trim mechanics first.

SO WHAT SHOULD BE ADDED INSTEAD?
If your horse has poor hoof quality, start by asking what’s missing from the base diet – not what shiny tub to add on top. In most cases, the gaps are in copper, zinc, and sometimes selenium – not biotin. These trace minerals are central to keratin production, hoof structure, immune function and tissue repair. And they’re consistently low or unbalanced in UK forage.

So instead of defaulting to biotin, start here:

🔹 A forage analysis to identify imbalances

🔹 A well-balanced mineral supplement tailored to that forage

🔹 Iron and sugar management (both interfere with absorption and hoof health)

🔹 Consistent, functionally sound trimming that allows the hoof to grow well, not just grow faster

24/07/2025

Owner Translation Guide

“Advanced Fluency in Equish–English Miscommunication”

You thought you spoke English.
You thought they spoke English.
But you, hoof care pro, have entered a linguistic realm where words do not mean what you think they mean.

Let us translate:

Owner: “He’s a bit sore but it’s just because he’s overdue.”
Translation: “He’s been lame for three weeks and I’m hoping you can fix it in one session using optimism and hoof magic.”

Owner: “He’s only footy on hard ground.”
Translation: “So, 85% of the UK.”

Owner: “He’s not lame, he’s just lazy.”
Translation: “He’s clearly compensating, but I’d rather assign him a bad attitude than pay for diagnostics.”

Owner: “He’s fine unless he’s turning, or trotting, or walking downhill.”
Translation: “He’s not fine.”

Owner: “His frogs just always look like that.”
Translation: “They’re melting, smell like Satan’s compost heap, and I’ve normalised it.”

Owner: “He’s not sore, he just has a sensitive soul.”
Translation: “He’s sore.”

Owner: “I’ve cut the sugar out of his diet completely.”
Translation: “Except the molasses chaff, lick, polos, biscuits, and summer field full of ryegrass.”

Owner: “He’s a barefoot horse but not a ‘barefoot horse’ if you know what I mean.”
Translation: “He’s barefoot but also never quite sound and I don’t want to talk about it.”

Owner: “I didn’t change anything… except the rug, the boots, the paddock, the feed, the supplement, and the schedule.”
Translation: “Please identify the issue using Sherlock Holmes powers and zero context.”

Owner: “He doesn’t need sedation. He’s absolutely fine with the vet.”
Translation: “Today, you may die.”

Owner: “He stands perfectly for the farrier.”
Translation: “The farrier stopped coming two years ago and I’ve repressed why.”

Owner: “He won’t pick his foot up if he doesn’t trust you.”
Translation: “You have five seconds before he tests your reflexes with a back hoof.”

Owner: “He’s just got thin soles.”
Translation: “There’s pathology I’ve chosen to explain away as a birth trait.”

Owner: “He does that with everyone.”
Translation: “He does that with you. For me he’s a lamb.”

Owner: “What do you think of this new barefoot group I joined?”
Translation: “Prepare to see a screenshot of something insane and defend your entire career.”

To every trimmer, farrier, physio, vet, and professional out there navigating this verbal minefield:
You are doing sacred work.
You are also in a sitcom.
One with hoof knives, soggy frogs, and emotionally manipulative geldings.

Stay strong.
And never trust a sentence that starts with “He’s usually fine…”

23/07/2025

22/07/2025

Conflicting Advice = Paralysed Owners
(When the horse is caught in the middle)

You’ve got the vet saying one thing.
The trimmer says another.
A bodyworker adds a third layer.
And online? A dozen different strangers, each convinced their way is the only right way.

You just want to do what’s best for your horse.
But instead of clarity, you’re stuck in decision paralysis—afraid that any choice you make will be the wrong one. So nothing changes. Or worse, things get worse while everyone argues.

This is one of the quiet, under-acknowledged causes of prolonged pain and stalled progress in equine care—well-meaning professionals giving advice in isolation, without context, and without communicating with each other.

And it's the owner who’s left trying to translate it all. Alone.

Why does it happen?

Because professionals don’t always agree on philosophy, priorities, or timelines

Because collaboration is still the exception, not the norm

Because owners are often left to be the go-between, without the training to know who’s right

Because every professional sees the horse through their own lens

And sometimes—because no one is actually listening to the horse

The cost of confusion

When advice conflicts, it doesn’t just create stress for the owner. It creates inconsistency for the horse.

One person says increase movement; another says stable rest

One says trim every 3 weeks; another says let it grow

One says pull the shoes now; another says never pull them

One says this is metabolic; another says it’s mechanical

What gets lost in all this is momentum—and confidence. Owners second-guess every decision. Horses are left with no clear, sustained direction. And professionals may not realise how overwhelming and paralysing it has become.

What if the second or third opinion also conflicts?

We’ve talked about the value of second and third opinions—and they are valuable. But what happens when each voice says something different?

That’s not failure. It’s just a sign that you’re dealing with a complex case. And complexity doesn’t always have one clear answer.

Here’s how to move forward when the experts disagree:

Find the common ground first. Even conflicting plans usually share some overlap. That’s your foundation.

Come back to the horse. What approach makes the most sense for this horse, right now—not just in theory, but in lived reality?

Think practically. Which plan is sustainable for you and your setup? The right answer on paper won’t help if it can’t be consistently applied.

Ask if the professionals will talk to each other. Sometimes the disagreement is more about wording or sequencing than actual opposition.

Trust your judgement. You live with the horse. You know what feels right. Use that to guide the next step—even if it’s just a trial period with one plan.

What needs to change?

1. Open communication between professionals
Where possible, professionals should speak to each other. Even a brief message can align care. No one expects everyone to agree on everything—but the horse benefits when there’s shared understanding and respect across disciplines.

2. Professionals owning their limits
It’s okay not to know everything. If a hoof care provider isn’t sure whether the pain is metabolic or structural—or if a vet isn’t confident in dietary management—that’s not a failure. It’s a chance to bring someone else in. Collaborative care is not a weakness.

3. Owners being empowered, not pressured
Advice should come with explanation and options—not ultimatums. When owners are told “you must do this or you’re harming your horse,” it creates fear—not progress. A good professional helps owners understand the why, not just the what.

4. Remembering the horse is the one living it
At the heart of the confusion is a real, living animal trying to cope with conflicting inputs. When advice isn’t working, or when different approaches keep cancelling each other out, it’s not “just one of those things.” It’s the horse asking for clarity.

Final thought

Inconsistent rehab isn’t always due to poor management.
Sometimes it’s caused by too much input—not too little.

And when professionals stop speaking to each other, the horse ends up stuck between systems.

If you’re that owner—staring at advice that contradicts itself—pause. Go back to what you know about your horse. Ask the questions no one has asked yet. And if the professionals around you aren’t willing to collaborate, find the ones who are.

20/07/2025

Fear of Diagnostics
(Why avoiding information doesn’t protect the horse)

In some circles, the word “diagnostics” has become almost taboo.
X-rays are seen as invasive. Blood tests are “not always necessary.” Scopes, scans, nerve blocks—dismissed as something “conventional” people do when they haven’t embraced the “whole horse.”

And at the other end of the spectrum, you have owners who’ve already spent thousands without clear answers—and now avoid diagnostics not because they don’t believe in them, but because they’re afraid of what they’ll find. Or afraid of opening yet another expensive door that leads nowhere.

Either way, the result is the same: horses go without the information needed to make better decisions.

Why diagnostics get avoided

Fear of cost

Fear of what it might reveal

Past experience of unclear or conflicting results

Influence from professionals or p*ers who discourage “intervention”

Belief that the horse’s body will heal “given time”

Loyalty to methods that reject or distrust conventional tools

And beneath all that—something deeper: the hope that if we just keep going, things will resolve on their own.

But here’s the hard truth:

You can’t rehab what you don’t understand.

You can’t trim around pathology you can’t see.

You can’t feed your way out of mechanical failure.

And you can’t fully help a horse if you’re only looking from the outside in.

Not every horse needs imaging. Not every sore foot requires a full medical work-up. But when progress stalls, when pain persists, when something doesn’t add up—diagnostics can change everything.

What do diagnostics offer?

Clarity. Instead of guessing whether you’re dealing with rotation, infection, fracture, or soft tissue strain—you know.

Direction. You can stop trying treatments at random and focus on what’s appropriate for the case.

Protection. You can avoid doing more harm through trial-and-error.

Relief. Sometimes the not knowing is worse than the answer. A clear diagnosis is the beginning of an honest plan.

If you’re an owner feeling torn:

You’re not weak or disloyal if you ask for x-rays.

You’re not abandoning a “natural” approach by seeking a diagnosis.

You are simply asking for more information. And that’s one of the most responsible things you can do.

Diagnostics don’t have to change your values—but they might change your understanding. And from that understanding, you can choose the best path forward, whatever that may be.

If you’re a professional hesitant to suggest it:

Recommending diagnostics isn’t giving up on your skillset.

It’s recognising that even the best trim, best rehab plan, best bodywork can’t outsmart unknown pathology.

You’re not saying “I don’t know how to help.” You’re saying “I want to make sure we’re helping in the right way.”

Final thought

Avoiding diagnostics doesn’t preserve the horse—it delays the truth.
And the longer truth is delayed, the harder it can be to act when it matters most.

When in doubt, ask the question.
Ask for the image.
Ask for the test.

Because what you don’t know can hurt them.

17/07/2025

Part Two – the Deep Cuts Edition of the Definitive A–Z of Equestrian Life

A – Agistment (if you're posh/Australian)
Where you pay someone else to let your horse stand in a field and plot your downfall.

B – Boots
Protect your horse’s legs from injuries it only sustains when not wearing them. Also collect mud and shame.

C – Chaff
Tasty filler, mostly used to bulk out feed, your overdraft, and the bottom of your bra.

D – Dually Halter
The Swiss Army knife of headcollars. Somehow both a training aid and a fashion statement. Still doesn’t stop them from dragging you sideways.

E – Ex-Racer
Built like a Ferrari. Handles like a shopping trolley. Comes with a complimentary ulcer and a deep fear of poles.

F – Feed Room
A place of witchcraft, rituals, and nutritional lies. Also contains a mouse the size of a Jack Russell.

G – Gaited
Fancy term for “my horse has more gears than sense and I have no idea what he’s doing but it looks fab.”

H – Hacking
The peaceful countryside ride, rudely interrupted by bin lorries, pheasants, angry cyclists, and your horse's violent inner child.

I – ‘It Must Be the Weather’
Catch-all excuse for your horse being a psycho. Works year-round.

J – Jabs
A brief moment of vet visit that costs the same as a mid-range dishwasher.

K – ‘Kept in Light Work’
Actually hasn’t left the field since April but we’re not emotionally ready to say “retired.”

L – Licks
Lumps of salt and molasses, shaped like boredom and regret. Horse licks it once then uses it as a toilet.

M – Matchy Matchy
Where your horse is dressed better than you’ve ever been in your life. Bonus points if you coordinate your bra.

N – Night Rug
One of 14 layers applied at dusk when the forecast says “mild.” You’ll be back at 2am in a panic sweat anyway.

O – Oiling Hooves
A time-honoured ritual involving a tiny brush, a suspicious substance in a jam jar, and absolutely no effect whatsoever.

P – Passport
Vital document, never found when needed. Last seen in 2019 under a bag of wormers and unopened tack catalogues.

Q – Quarter Marks
Fancy arse-stencilling. Horse immediately rolls them off in the muckiest corner possible.

R – Rest Day
When your horse chills, you do 11 hours of mucking out, rug washing, hay hauling and quietly sobbing.

S – Soaked Hay
Because nothing says love like offering your horse a cold, slimy salad that smells like pond death.

T – Trot Up
A mini fashion show where your horse pretends to be 100% sound until you really need it not to.

U – Ulcers
The new black. Every horse has them. Possibly you do too. Caused by… everything.

V – Velcro Boots
Stick to everything except the horse’s legs once any amount of mud is involved.

W – White Legs
Nature’s cruel joke. Like owning a living canvas dedicated to grass stains and cellulitis.

X – XC Colours
Bright, brave, bold… until you fall off at fence 3 and have to do the walk of shame looking like a cartoon character.

Y – Yard Politics
Like Mean Girls. But with wheelbarrows, stolen brooms, and passive-aggressive notes on the feed room door.

Z – Zzzzz
What your horse is doing while you scrape mud out of rugs at 10pm and wonder why you didn’t just take up crochet.

15/07/2025

When I said "soak the feet," they might’ve slightly overachieved…😆

Owner compliance: 110% ❤️.
Horse compliance: Surprisingly 100% 😆.
Buckets and other soaking implements: 4.
Dignity: 0.

13/07/2025

When Rehab Doesn’t Go to Plan
(What to do when the horse isn’t improving, despite your best efforts)

You’ve committed. You’ve researched. You’ve made the changes—maybe all of them. The diet is balanced, the sugars are low, the turnout is carefully managed. You’ve stood beside your horse through good days and hard ones, watching for every sign of progress. The hoof care’s been regular, intentional, and evidence-based. You’ve done everything right.

And still… your horse is sore. Or inconsistent. Or has gone backwards.

This moment is lonely, but it’s not rare.
Most people just don’t talk about it. Not because it’s uncommon—but because it’s complicated, uncomfortable, and hard to explain. But those of us who’ve been in this world long enough—owners and professionals alike—know this moment well. And we carry these cases with us.

So where do you go from here?

1. Start with honesty—not blame.

This isn’t about fault. It’s about recognising what is, rather than what we hoped would be.
Ask yourself:

Has my horse’s comfort level genuinely improved over time?

Is the trajectory going the right way—or have we stalled or declined?

Am I seeing patterns: seasonal regressions, environmental triggers, post-trim setbacks?

Stalled progress doesn’t mean you failed. It means your horse’s system may still be missing something. And that realisation is the beginning of a new phase—not the end.

2. Reassess the entire system—not just the hooves.

Hoof rehab isn’t just about hooves. It’s a whole-horse, whole-environment picture.
It’s easy to focus on the foot and miss the systemic roadblocks. Ask:

Is there persistent low-grade inflammation—metabolic, hormonal, infectious?

Has the environment subtly shifted—new grass, hay change, weather pattern—that might be tipping the balance?

Could pain in other areas (back, joints, gut) be limiting movement, posture, or weight-bearing capacity?

Are you seeing signs of stress or overload—behavioural changes, tight muscles, grinding, coat changes, foot-stamping?

Sometimes, the trim is sound, the diet is right, but the system is still not in balance. That’s where broader thinking matters.

3. Re-evaluate the trim—not to assign blame, but to reassess fit.

Even well-intentioned, skilled hoof care doesn’t always hit the mark on the first go.

Is the trim relieving pressure from sensitive areas—or unintentionally increasing leverage or loading?

Has the hoof been given the opportunity to respond—or is it reacting to a pace that’s too fast or too slow?

Is there a build-up of false sole or impacted material that’s masking pain or delaying healing?

Have we missed an underlying pathology (e.g. infection, abscess, deep bruising, coffin bone rotation) that needs imaging or further investigation?

This is where collaboration is key. Ask questions. Seek discussion—not defensiveness. A good professional will welcome an opportunity to re-evaluate with you.

4. Bring in fresh eyes, if needed.

Second opinions are not a betrayal of trust—they’re a sign that you’re invested in getting to the truth.
Whether it’s a new trimmer, your vet, a physiotherapist, or a nutritionist, new perspectives can offer insight that’s hard to see from inside the current plan.

The best teams in complex cases often include multiple viewpoints. One person alone rarely sees the whole picture. And in difficult cases, it’s rarely one thing—it’s layers.

5. Reassess the goal—not your worth as a caregiver.

Sometimes the goalposts need to move.
If the original aim was “barefoot, sound, and back in work,” but your horse is only sometimes comfortable walking out, then the priority may need to shift to “stable, content, pain-managed, functional.”

That’s not failure. That’s reality.
And reality-based care is often far kinder and more sustainable than chasing an outcome that isn’t compatible with the horse’s current physiology.

Yes, we all want soundness. But comfort and quality of life come first. The rest, if it comes, is a bonus.

6. Talk about it.

This may be the hardest step—but perhaps the most important.
Because silence breeds shame.
And yet every single owner and professional who has been in rehab long enough has had these cases—the ones that didn’t improve, or didn’t stay improved, or taught us something we couldn’t have learned any other way.

If you’re feeling alone, or like you’ve somehow failed—know this:
You’re not the only one. You’re just the only one talking about it.

And we need more people willing to talk.

Final thought:
If your rehab hasn’t gone to plan, that doesn’t make you a bad owner. It makes you a horse owner doing the best they can in the face of complexity.

What matters most now is not whether the original plan worked.
What matters is whether you’re willing to keep asking questions, keep listening to your horse, and keep adapting—even when it’s hard.

Progress isn’t always visible. And rehab isn’t always a comeback story.
Sometimes it’s simply making the next best decision for the horse in front of you.

And that’s enough.

13/07/2025

Ok, I'll say it: heat, cleggs and trimming should not be in the same sentence 🥵😆

A huge thank you to Regina Fränken | Hoofology who, even in this heat, has made sure our horses are balanced and comfortable 🐎

11/07/2025

The Stuff No One Talks About in Hoof Care

Let’s talk about the stuff that doesn’t make it into the glossy social media reels. The things that don’t show up on the before-and-after collages. The bits that happen in the mud, in the rain, under stress, and under pressure — and almost never in perfect lighting.

We talk a lot about hoof shape, angles, diet, thrush protocols, and what makes a “good” trim — and all of that matters. But what about the things that sit just outside the frame?

Like the horse who’s been “barefoot for years” but is still mincing on gravel because no one’s addressed the long toe and underlying mechanics. Or the ones trimmed to textbook perfection, but still footy because their gut’s a mess or they’re in constant low-grade pain that no one’s chasing down.

We don’t talk enough about the cases that don’t go to plan. The rehabs where everything should be working but isn’t. The abscesses that keep recurring. The laminitic that relapses after a single wet week. The navicular horse that never read the rulebook.

We rarely mention the toll it takes on the people doing the work — owners, trimmers, farriers, vets — all quietly shouldering the burden of these slow, uncertain journeys. The missed milestones. The heartbreak of thinking you were turning a corner… only to realise it was just a brief plateau before the next problem hit.

There’s the horse who won’t pick up a foot anymore because he’s sore everywhere, and you’re left trimming a back hoof on your knees, soaked through, hoping your back doesn’t spasm before you finish. There’s the moment you clock that familiar blackened edge of white line disease, knowing this just became a much longer road than anyone signed up for.

And there’s the silence around owner burnout. The emotional and financial weight of hoof rehab, which can grind down even the most dedicated people. The ones who feel ashamed because they’re tired. The ones who feel judged because they need help.

The elephant in the room? So much of hoof care isn't just hoof care. It's nutrition. It’s turnout. It's the wrong rug. It's saddle fit. It’s stress and ulcers. It’s how much (or little) movement a horse gets. It's pain management. It’s the systemic stuff no one wants to deal with because it’s messy, or expensive, or inconvenient.

And it’s political too. No one talks about how divisive hoof care has become — how sharing an opinion on heels or wedges or diet can lose you a client or start a feud. How saying “it depends” is often seen as weakness, when it’s usually the only honest answer.

Most of all, we don’t talk about the emotional side. The weight of responsibility. The wondering: Did I miss something? Could I have done more? Am I doing the right thing?

Because real hoof care is rarely black and white. It’s a messy mix of progress and setbacks, of adapting to each horse and each environment. It’s hard-won experience, not viral reels. It’s about building trust, not just correcting angles.

So here’s to the owners who show up every day — muddy, tired, determined — doing their best even when the results don’t come quick. The ones who learn, adjust, and try again.

Here’s to the professionals — the trimmers, farriers, vets, bodyworkers — who quietly carry the weight of responsibility, who troubleshoot in the field and agonise over cases long after they’ve gone home. The ones who aren’t afraid to say, “I don’t know yet,” and who keep learning anyway.

Here’s to the rehab teams, the collaborators, the hoof nerds, the realists, the ones who listen to the horse above all else.

You won’t always get the credit. You won’t always get the outcome you hoped for. But this corner of the equine world is better because of you.

Let’s keep talking. Let’s keep questioning. Let’s keep going.

Because this is hoof care too — the full, muddy, unfiltered truth of it. And it matters.

11/07/2025

I've been experimenting and would love to hear other people's opinions and experiences:

Our horses are currently being driven insane by cleggs (the much meaner, Scottish version of the common horsefly).

They're slathered in potions, covered where appropriate and come into the shelter during the worst...

But, despite all efforts, they're pretty much out of their mind.

I've been playing some brown noise at low volume and everyone is much calmer. Coincidence maybe but I'd love to hear if anyone has any experience or knowledge of working with brown/white noise in horses 🙏😁