Riding for Ladies: With Hints on the Stable

by Mrs. Power O'Donoghue

A stable door ought not to be less than eight feet high; this will enable a horseman to ride out when mounted. It should be quite five feet wide, and divided into two parts, upper and lower, in order that the former may be conveniently opened in warm weather. It should likewise be free of any fastening that projects in even an apparently trifling degree.

Good ventilation is an absolute necessity in a stable; but in saying this I do not mean that it should be overdone. Up to the year 1788 the subject was but little thought of, and ever since that period there has been a constant outcry against “hot” stables. Such, no doubt, are highly dangerous, but so are cold ones; and many persons insist upon confounding hot with foul, whereas the terms need have no connection whatever with one another. In cases of sickness it may be necessary to keep a horse in a warm stable, but no ailment that ever was heard of can possibly be benefited by being nursed in a foul or vitiated atmosphere. There is a great deal of talk about temperature with regard to stables, but very little indeed concerning purity: a matter which ought really to engage far more attention.

To ventilate a stable properly there ought to be apertures for taking away the foul air, and further apertures for admitting a fresh supply—and these must be placed high up, near the roof; otherwise they will tend to make the stable unduly cold.

When air is exhaled from a horse’s lungs it is both lighter and warmer than that which surrounds it, consequently it ascends to the highest part of the building, and if permitted to escape there it can do no harm. If, however, there is no aperture so high up, it remains at the top until it grows cold, and then descends, to be breathed and rebreathed by the animal over and over again. I cannot get persons to believe this, or even to understand it. The rooms that they themselves occupy are at times positive hotbeds of unwholesomeness—every window shut tight, doors likewise shut and often heavily curtained, while sandbags are employed in various directions to exclude every breath of fresh air. Such persons sleep all night long in a vitiated atmosphere, and think that they are doing wonders if, in the event of the morning being excessively bright and fine, they open a little bit of the window from the bottom. To tell them that this is injurious would have no effect whatever; it is comfortable, feels warm, at least—and what matter about the rest? “New-fangled notions: nothing else”—and so on, and so forth.

Impure air in stables is one of the evils to be most guarded against. There may be openings large enough to admit a certain quantity of fresh air, but they are of little use unless there are others also for the purpose of letting out that which has been already breathed, before it has had time to grow cool.

The best windows by far, both for lighting and ventilating, are ordinary sash-windows, well constructed, and reaching quite to the ceiling. These should be made to open readily at top and bottom, and should be fitted with cords and pulleys of the very best description. I know, of course, all the modern appliances off by heart, and am quite ready to admit the excellence of some of them—indeed, many—but for general all-round usefulness I prefer the kind that I have advocated. Sash-windows are capable of affording a splendid current of air: when the horses are out, for instance, or when the weather is tremendously hot—and they can be made available for the same purpose even when the occupants of the stalls and boxes are in their places without creating a dangerous draught, for the air can be directed ceilingwards by means of screens or wire blinds.

Another advantage that sash-windows possess over other kinds is that there is nothing about them to get out of order, except the cords—and these can, of course, be quite readily renewed; in fact, most handy stablemen are capable of effecting such simple repairs without having to enlist the services of outsiders at all.

I like to see windows glazed with rough plate; it is extremely strong and durable, and is in every way to be commended before the 18-inch glass, which is both frail and shabby. Blinds ought to be fitted to the windows, or outside shutters employed, in order to keep out the heat and glare in summer time.

Stables should be well lighted. I do not at all approve of the half-and-half system of lighting which generally prevails, and I strongly condemn the darkness which is too often to be found in them. I cannot be made to believe that horses, children, flowers, or anything else, can possibly thrive and be healthy in the dark. Abundance of light and air is my maxim, and I smile to myself when I see persons blinking disconsolately in the sunlight, and wondering where the “draughts” are coming from. Those accustomed to live in hot-houses call every breath of air a draught, and because it is the fashion (a most pernicious and objectionable one) to darken up dwelling-houses until every ray of God’s beautiful sunshine and sweet glad light is entirely excluded, they think that to enter a room where all the blinds are up, and where sunshafts are darting in through pleasantly opened windows, is something too awful to be endured. In like manner, grooms will, when allowed, shut out every ray of light from the houses in which their charges spend the long hours of their captivity, and will tell you—if you have the patience to listen to such nonsense—that “horses thrive better in the dark.” Do not believe a word of it. Just watch a horse brought suddenly out of a dark stable, in daylight, into the yard; look closely at his eyes, how the pupils instantly contract, and the lids rise and fall, with a rapid pained movement, not to be mistaken. The animal cannot see a single yard before him, and when he stumbles, or halts, or steps gingerly, the groom has harsh names and cruel punishments ready for him at command, provided always that the master or mistress does not happen to be by. You should insist upon having a plentiful supply of light and air for your horses, for by so doing, although “death cannot ultimately be defeated, life may be prolonged.”

I do not disapprove, as some do, of having the hay loft directly over the stable, but I greatly object to the common method of dispensing the contents of it through a trap-door in the roof. It is a most pernicious practice, allowing draughts to penetrate right down upon the horses’ heads, and filling their eyes and nostrils with hay-seeds and dust. Naturally when an animal knows that it is feeding-time, and sees the opening of the trap, its head is uplifted to catch the first morsel, and, as a consequence, its sensitive organs suffer at once. Moreover, there have been times when the fork, carried in the hand of a careless stableman, has slipped from him through the opening, and inflicted serious injury upon the occupant of the stall below.