There’s an old truism in the horse world that the initial cost involved in actually acquiring a horse is the least money you’ll ever spend on him/her.  And when you consider how much maintenance a horse requires, you’ll see why the statement is really pretty accurate.  You have to maintain your horse’s living quarters (fencing, pasture or paddock, barn, stall and bedding), health and well-being (feed, supplements, grooming tools, farrier and vet care), and clothing (tack, wraps, boots and blankets).  But did you also know you need to maintain saddle fit?

While most people know the importance of finding a saddle that fits, and know that flock can be adjusted to refine and correct saddle fit, not as many realize that it’s something that requires regular maintenance.  Flocked panels will compress and conform to your horse’s back, much like your favorite boots or chaps will conform to your body, and that’s a good thing … but that also means that they’ll need to be checked on a regular basis to make sure the saddle’s still fitting.

Think of it along the same lines as checking and changing the oil in your car.  On occasion, the oil will run low and you’ll need to add more, and it will need to be changed regularly when it loses viscosity and becomes less effective as a lubricant.  Flocked panels need the same sort of attention.  As the flock conforms to your horse’s individual shape, it will compress and lose loft and resilience; from time to time, it will need to be “bumped up” or adjusted, and at some point, it will need to be completely replaced.

As a rule of thumb, we recommend having the fit of your saddle checked every 6-12 months.  In some cases, it will need to be checked more frequently; young horses who are progressing quickly in training may need the fit checked every few months, and many professionals and competitors will have their saddle fit checked at the beginning and end of the season … and sometimes around mid-point as well … and definitely if they notice a change in balance, feel or in their horse’s way of going.  Recreational riders whose horses tend to maintain one level of condition can often get by with having saddle fit checked once a year.  And this is a NOT a case of “more is better”:  too much fussing and adjusting the flocking will affect the integrity – lumps and divots are almost inevitable if you meddle with it incessantly – and will lead to a strip-flock in pretty short order.  A saddle that hasn’t had excessive adjustments will often go 5 or 6 years without needing a strip flock, but a saddle that’s had a lot of work can need a strip-flock in far less time.

Now, going back to the changing-the-oil simile – I know there are a lot of do-it-yourselfers who change their own oil.  I’m one of them.  However, I do NOT recommend trying to adjust your saddle’s flocking on your own.  Here’s a little tale about that …

A woman called the shop to inquire about having a flocking adjustment done on her saddle.  I set up a time for her to bring her saddle in, and when she arrived, I put the saddle on my bench and flipped it panels-up.  The panels were grossly overflocked – they looked like they had the mumps, they were like pipes, like leather-covered sausages.  The panel leather was even stretched in some spots, and they were very uneven.  I ran my hands over them and felt an unholy amount of bumps, sort of like wee little marbles had been stuck in just under the panels.  I looked at the woman and said, as tactfully as I could, “Uh …”

“Well, yes,” she replied, a bit red in the face, “you see, I thought I’d try doing the adjustment myself; I’ve seen it done, and it didn’t look too difficult.”

And then I noticed an … aroma.  Well, honestly, it was a smell.  A fairly funky smell.  Just short of a pretty bad smell, in fact.  “Uh …”

“So I have sheep,” the woman continued, “and I grabbed the clippers and cut some wool off one of them.  I didn’t have anyone to help, so I got her head pinched between my legs and started clipping her butt.  And I got what I thought was enough wool.”

By this time, I’d started to suspect where this was going. I slowly let go of the saddle and took what I hoped looked like a casual step back from my bench. “Uh …”

“Then I took a screwdriver and a piece of wire coat hanger, and stuffed the wool into my saddle,” she finished.

“Uh …”  I cleared my throat.  “Uh … You mean, uh, right … right off the sheep?”

“Right off the sheep,” she confirmed.  “Well, right off the ground, actually.  I just clipped it right onto the ground, and then put it in my saddle.”

I peered at the flocking hole, and indeed, she had not exaggerated.  Spilling out of the hole was raw, uncarded wool.  Raw, uncarded, dirty wool.  Raw, uncarded, dirty wool complete with sheep manure. And straw.  And shavings.  And gravel.  And even a dead pill bug.

That saddle – which probably had required no more than a minor bump-up – wound up needing a total strip flock.  And even after that, it never fit the same again, because the panel leather had gotten stretched.  And even all new wool and two very, very thorough cleaning-and-conditionings, it still had a distinct eau de sheep pong … which lingered on my bench for a couple months.

I think of that saddle from time to time, and of that unknown sheep, her head between that woman’s knees, having her bottom shorn for the sake of a DIY saddle fit adjustment.

So please:  don’t try this at home.

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