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By
Bruce Dries
In 1998, Abramo
left her position as senior editor for the National Board of Medical
Examiners to start her own editing and writing business. Working
from her home in Philadelphia, she spent several years writing and
editing pharmaceutical training manuals and medical journal articles
and continued to create exams.
However,
frustration with her career was growing. Abramo found herself
intrigued watching a farrier work with her horses. She had been
around horses since childhood, and was fascinated with the skill
displayed in shoeing them.

Christine
Draksler Abramo ’87
She brought up
the idea of becoming a farrier with her husband, Peter Abramo ’87.
“I was working as an independent consultant at the time and so was
very flexible,” he said. “After all, she supported me through years
of college while I completed my Ph.D., so the least I could do was
support her dream to work with horses.”
After some
on-line research, they chose a school in Oklahoma. Only a few weeks
later, she was on her way west to learn a new trade while he stayed
home with their four children.
Abramo likened
farrier school to being at boot camp. It was intensive training—six
days a week for twelve weeks. In addition to learning how to shoe a
horse, she was trained in blacksmithing. A farrier needs a sound
knowledge of shoeing all types of feet, whether normal or defective,
and of making shoes to suit all types of work and working
conditions.
“It’s really
horse podiatry,” she said. “You’re cutting and nailing into live
tissue. The hoof is like the very tip of the middle finger, and all
of the animal’s weight is on it. A farrier’s work has a definite
impact on the quality of a horse’s movement.”
Within a month
after completing her training, the Abramo family was on its way to
Oklahoma, this time driving a truck loaded with their possessions
and hauling a trailer with three horses. In May, 2003, she unveiled
Christine’s Custom Horseshoeing, and ever since has been driving a
truck loaded down with horseshoes, a forge, anvil, and a variety of
tools, shoeing horses across the southwest corner of the state.
“It was hard on
my kids when I was in school,” she said of her three daughters and
one son. “But they are extremely resilient. They love Oklahoma and
have an adventurous spirit.”

Photo: Michael D. Pope—The Lawton Constitution
She doesn’t feel
her education is wasted. As a certified farrier, Abramo applies her
biology experience to working with horses. She noted that many
high-quality farriers work closely with veterinarians. The work can
be almost like surgery, as the hoof contains living tissue.
However, it’s
legal for anyone to shoe a horse, whether trained or not. Known as
“cowboy shoers,” such untrained people can end up ruining a good
horse. It can be a slow process, resulting in the horse gradually
becoming lame over the years or developing other problems.
“I try to teach
my clients what to look for and be aware of,” said Abramo,
acknowledging that learning about the job will be a lifelong task.
“It’s hard,
filthy, and hot, even on cold days,” she said. “It can be dangerous,
even with nice horses. They can misstep and hurt a person. But it’s
so much better than sitting in an office or commuting. I’m real
happy doing this.”
In addition to
caring for horses, Abramo has written a book (unpublished yet) about
her childhood horse. After being separated for ten years, she found
the horse for sale along with its four-year-old filly. The
twenty-seven-year-old mare recognized her instantly, and she bought
both of them.
Even after such a
complete switch of careers, Abramo still creates one board
certification exam each year for the American Board of Colorectal
Surgery. But it comes nowhere near her new career satisfaction.
Now in her second
year of shoeing, she puts in seveal hours each day traveling to her
clients, from distant ranches to rural backyards. Word of mouth is
as important as any other advertisement. It takes persistence—few
women are in the farrier field, and she only knows of five others in
the state.
“Every foot is an
advertisement,” she said. “You never know who’ll see the horse.”

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