We are a part of our new community here in the catskills, and altho’ many of our horses have travelled a distance to arrive, some are from very close by.

Several months ago, I met Ace, by accident. My trainer called to see if I wouldn’t mind being an extra set of hands for a training session with a tennessee walker that he was getting ready to ride. Thrilled, I went along, to a nearby farm, and was introduced to a big young black horse, beautiful, finely chiseled features and nice proportions. What really appealed to me was his energy, that youthful combination of interest and involvement and yes, a little healthy horse testing mixed in. Ace was living at one of those horse properties that we dream about, with huge fields surrounded by dark wood fencing, deep green fields and big run in sheds. He had a mare friend who was more suspicious, and followed us as we moved and worked with the young gelding in the paddock. Ace was about five, and had preliminary training but needed to be gentled to have a long future as a riding horse. The session went very well, with Dan working on dead-manning across the horse while I moved him, quietly around. Super nice horse, and I looked forward to seeing him again.

A few days later I got a phone call. Another local, the man who allowed a weanling to nearly starve to death last winter before dumping her with us, had two babies again, colts. He had decided, wisely, to not winter them. A mutual connection had been working on getting him to release the colts to us, and it seemed this was finally happening. (I want to point out here that I am changing enough info to keep this story from being connected to the person, but sticking enough to the important facts to tell you this tale.) I had heard about the colts for months and was hoping to get my hands on them; “Aggie”, the filly, has suffered lifetime damage from that winter, her first on the planet, arriving sick and angry and a bag of bones;  I didn’t want to see that happen to the colts. They were now five months and had been weaned early because he was intending on selling them both at auction. Either sanity or economic reality intervened. Colts at auction are a lottery ticket worth as little at $5 these days, so it was wiser to let them come to me and pay a healthy ‘trailering fee’.  So we struck a deal; I would pay the trailering costs, and the colts could come to Rosemary Farm. Gleefully I agreed. Sending babies to auction is traumatic and dangerous to their health, and if we could spare these two that journey it could change their life.

The next day they  arrived; I hadn’t met them until the trailer opened, and two shy and scared colts peered out at me. One was a small sorrel pony colt, hiding behind his adopted ‘brother’, who was a beautiful tall chocolate appy, with a tiny snowflake blanket. Each had halters pulled way too tight, but both were receptive to leaving the dark space and coming out into the path. Molly’s band was watching eagerly, leaning over the fence to see them. The colts were naturally scared but they appeared in decent condition overall, aside from the halters imprinting on their heads. As we lead them away, I heard banging and neighing inside the front compartment of the trailer. “The mother of that little pony colt is in front”, I was told, “she’s going to auction right now unless you want her”. He had me at ‘she’s going to auction’, and he knew it. “Well, let me have a look at her”, I tried to sigh nonchalantly, but fooled no one. The fellow opened up the solid metal partition and revealed the tiny beautiful jewel of a mare; a sorrel paso cross in good condition but frantic. She hadn’t seen her son in a month, even on the trailer ride. For a small increase in our ‘trailer fee’, she could stay. Do I even need to write that she became ours?

I had the oversized solid stall ready for the colts, but had nowhere prepared for another horse. I walked her over to where the colts where stalled (there is a video of her greeting them over the stall wall). I also don’t need to type that she was beyond thrilled to see her son again. She didn’t know the appy colt, and he ‘clicked’ at her to say, “I’m only a baby!” even tho’ he was nearly as tall as her. I made a decision, and allowed her in the giant stall with both boys. What a joyful reunion. Even tho’ “Lexis” milk had dried up, she was still his mother, and he is the most beautiful thing she has ever created. I learned that she had been purchased just before foaling, from auction, and was ridden thru. Only five years old herself, she already has the emotional scarring of a horse with no herd and no anchor. Jumpy, suspicious, mistrustful. Poor girl, the least we could do was give her back her colt, and give her colt further parenting. Quickly she established rank with the appy colt and both became ‘her boys’.

A little time passed, and with halters removed and a routine established, the new trio began to feel a home. We auctioned off naming rights on the colts to cover their initial care, and the appy became Sawyer and the sorrel pony colt became Hamlet. Colts are easy to love and they have been joyful to get to know. Now back to Ace, the horse that this was supposed to be about. Soon after the colts arrived, I received a call from a neighbor, who wanted to confirm that the babies were indeed with us. “I’ve got the dad of that appy colt”, he told me, “It’s my tennessee walker Ace”. This was an interesting bit of news. I knew that Ace was a gelding and was young, but anything is certainly possible. Apparently before this fellow bought Ace, he had  passed through the hands of the man who had all the babies. And before he had been gelded, he was turned out with the mares. Eleven months later, one of the trail mares, Honey, foaled out,  to everyone’s surprise but Mother Nature. Even more surprising was that it was an appaloosa! This colt was Sawyer. Honey is a morgan cross and a great trail horse, who used to be the favorite of another local horse owner. Seems like horse get sold and passed around a lot amongst these guys;  sadly, Honey was sold again after the colt was pulled off her, to the unknown. The fellow was getting out of horses. The trail mares went to auction, but Ace sold to this other neighbor; who was now telling me that Ace is a Tennessee Walker, a gaited horse. “Ace is a Tennessee Walker?”, I ask, “then how did a walker and a morgan have an appaloosa colt?”…”Well, we’re not exactly sure”, says he, “We don’t know all of Ace’s background”. OK, here’s where we get to the ‘tall tale’ part of this story.

This fellow tells me that Ace was captured wild, in Daniel Boone National Forest in Kentucky, as a yearling colt. He says that there are wild Tennessee Walkers running around there, and that certain times of the year, folks are allowed to catch and keep them. Another friend of theirs goes regularly and catches young horses, that can still be tamed, and brings them back and sells them. That’s where Ace came from, says he, with conviction. “So you telling me that he was a wild Tennessee  Walker captured in Kentucky?!”, I think my voice rose an octave. “Yup”, he concludes firmly. I actually think he believes this, and whether there is an ounce of truth to it, he really liked the horse. “You should keep that colt yourself”, he advised me, “his daddy is a great horse, he will grow up like that”. I knew that he felt strongly about Ace because he was hiring a trainer, which is a commitment of time and money. I was glad that he had him, safe. Wherever he was from!

I have to include here that I never saw Ace move quickly so I never witnessed whether he was gaited. I wasn’t looking for it at the time. This story amused me, but in my research I cannot find anything to support it. I would say that I would take some video of the handsome Ace with the mysterious background, and share it for input, but now I have to say that this is where the tale gets sad. I got a message yesterday, that Ace had a field accident recently which broke his leg, and had to be put down. That magnificent young horse is gone. His only mark on the world, the little babe in my back field. His owner is quite distraught, and I know that if there was anything reasonable to be done, he would have. I don’t know the details of the accident, but seeing where he lived, the beautiful safe fencing and fields…. well, it means it could happen to any one of us. Accidents with horses are frequently swift and devastating.

When I heard the news I felt sorrow for our colt, even thoughI understand that is a human reaction; they never knew each other. The colt that is here now is a beautiful boy, tall and gregarious like his dad. I never knew his mother, and maybe that doesn’t matter either. A great piece of advice that I have received from more then one horse person is ‘to focus on the horse in front of you’. And so I am with Sawyer, who grows in trust every day here, who now must build his own history at Rosemary Farm.

But here’s to you Ace, you mysterious and handsome horse, happy trails over the rainbow bridge. We’ll take care of your boy.

My perchie mare Molly and I had our first ‘official’ ride today, down in the pole barn, with Dan helping keep us steady, the rest of the herd nearby, on the snowy  path. Molly and I have belonged to each other since that night 14 months ago when I saw her in the auction house, with twine tied around her throatlatch, one line dangling down and getting caught under her hoof.  I cut her loose and the rest, as they say, is history. Readers here can find the full stories of how she came to Rosemary Farm, and how close she came to death, first on the slaughter truck (which she didn’t know) and later in the swamp pit on the farm (which she did know); how she and I grew, how she was pregnant, how we all lost her colt, and how we have been healing. Molly’s journey has been one of love and victory over many of the things that can destroy a horse’s life, much less it’s relationship to humans. Through it all Molly and I grew closer, forming a strong bond that she seems to enjoy as much as I do.

Early on in her time here, I tracked down her last owner, a camp,  and learned that there had been ‘attempts’ at training her, and it hadn’t gone well; so she was put out to pasture with a stallion, for years, and made babies. When there were several of them, the entire family was sent to auction, and with no training, almost certain slaughter. I can’t tell you why we hit it off but we did.
And this is the mare that I hoped to make into a riding partner, and after becoming partners on the ground, it began to seem possible. The trainer that I’ve been working with for nearly two years, Dan McCarthy, has a very gentle and methodical way of working, a way that I call ‘non-training’. It drives some crazy. Sometimes it’s hard to see anything being done, it seems so subtle; and when he is working a horse, it can look effortless…until another takes the line! With this training, every gentle effort is ‘rewarded’ by release, and one small step leads to another in a seamless and enjoyable process that builds.  It can seem an interminable process, but I have now seen horses come along this way, seen the seamless transition to riding without a single buck, without stress. In hindsight, considering the remarkable results it produces, it looks like a short span of time indeed.
So every time I interact with Molly, we learn about each other, and I had to learn to be a clear leader, and she had to learn to trust that. Then we learned about walking together on a float, turning into open spaces, giving to pressure…All of this helped the morning I saw Molly at the far edge of the field and she whinnied to me; it may as well have been english it was so clear; Help! she said, looking at me, waiting for me.  I ran to her, and found her rear foot caught in an old piece of unearthed barbed wire. I had nothing, not a single rope, but brought her head around to me, said ‘back’ and she released a step back. I had to let go of her head to grab her foot, and she held still while I pulled the wire loose and let her go, trotting gladly back to the band.
So Molly and I have been working; sitting on the fence dangling a foot over her, grabbing her mane at the withers and jumping up and down (she Hated that at first), climbing underneath her belly, then beginning to lay across her back and moving her in circles with a halter and lead. We got past girth issues bit by bit, and we played; fluffing her head, exploring the far fields together, greeting new herd members, coming to each others call. Our ‘riding’ progress was all tied up in our ‘life’ progress.
It was pretty clear that Molly had decided I was her person and was comfortable with me being close to her, leaning on her, all the parts of riding her except the actual riding. Most of this Molly and I had done with just the two of us, but I wanted some help with this step.Today was the day.
I had Dan over to help us with this big step. We got two different versions of bitless bridles to try, and a bareback pad to use. I had asked about a saddle, thinking I would have a better chance of staying on if she bucked, but Dan said that if she wanted to buck me off she would, so it was better to have less stuff to interfere. He told me this awhile ago and delayed our progress another month while I had to process and embrace that I might get bucked off! So Dan was letting me do most of the work today, really showing him what we had done so far; I fitted the hackamore on her, did a bit of ground work, and when I stopped to get more stuff she followed me to see what I was up to. I roped off the pole barn so we wouldn’t have interference, and got the bareback pad. We were getting close. I tossed it on her and settled her down before bringing up the girth. “Suck it up Molly!” I smiled as I fastened it on her, and she turned her head into me. What a great mare she is. We stacked two bags of shavings to use as a step, and brought Molly over. Easy enough to grab some mane and jump onto her back, deadman style. I know her and I’ve done this. She was quiet and held for me. Dan took her head and moved her out, stepping her around in a quiet easy circle. So far so good! I hop down, and we decide to switch headgear for better contact, using this time the Parelli hackamore. We don’t train with bits. Molly is so calm and easy about it all, makes it seem like she’s done this her whole life.

Time for take two; I hop up again dead man, and we circle around, and then Dan told me to rotate so my legs were over her butt. This is one of the things that can set off a horse, and we spent some time with me in this position, legs out, head down, rubbing her withers and relaxing. It was lovely actually, taking deep breathes on top of her, exhaling into her mane. Sitting up at some point was natural. I moved gently, careful not to thump her sides or be to jerky. I held a chunk of mane and there I was sitting upright and easy on the back of my mare Molly. To appreciate the beauty of this moment, one does not need to have the images of Molly nearly dying, or the powerful lead mare that she has become; I have fought with Molly and am aware of how strong and quick she is. But anyone who has seen anything where ‘breaking’a horse is taught as ‘how it’s done’, anyone who has witnessed a scared or angry horse trying to escape the experience of riding. I think that Molly had been introduced to that method, the belief in force, and so our journey was not from ‘zero’, but from somewhere in the ‘negative’ numbers. The quietness of this by contract spoke volumes; her journey from a wild and mishandled mare to a trusting friend. It’s possible someone had been on Molly sometime in her past, but it hadn’t gone well and it was so long ago that now, that horse doesn’t exist anymore. She has been replaced by my friend, who was doing something new, but with people she trusted, and so far, she was getting petted and rubbed so it was just fine, thank you very much.

I sat up there for awhile, just soaking it in. She could choose to toss me now, but that was nowhere in her mind. I had the reins, loosely, and Dan had the lead line, and moved us out. She was easy and comfortable, neck relaxed, ears tuned to my voice. We did a few simple circles, to the left and to the right. No tension in her back, I could see her eye on me. We walked over towards the entrance and stopped, and Dan and I both saw her look down the path to the field where her herd had gone, and we both felt it; she politely asked to go. She didn’t have to ask twice, we are friends. So we turned her once more and settled her feet, and I held the inside rein softly so her head was just turned in, and I hopped off. Perfect. We undid the girth, then the headgear, and when I turned to carry it away, Molly followed me.

I scratched her for a bit, and then she wandered down to the others. The victory of our first ride was what a non-issue it was for my mare, a continued extension of our growth together. While it’s the kind of thing that one reads in fantasy versions of horse stories, it’s humbling to really experience. Worth all of the effort to get here.

I didn’t have much time; the snowstorm had really slowed me down. Remember I mentioned there was a family of 10 horses? Half were about 18 months old, the rest were clearly relatives. After being charmed by the young ones (who went to a private home) I tried to introduce myself to some of the older horses. This is always logistically tricky, because their butts are facing you. I spied an opening between a leopard app and a sorrel gelding, and stepped quietly between them, touching each lightly on their sides. The appy gave me that ear, the “here comes the buzz kill” ear, and I knew she wasn’t crazy about humans. The sorrel however, turned right into me and said hello. I petted him, and then pulled out a few small pieces of carrot. Unsurprisingly the appy was interested, as well as the sorrel, and a very skinny one on his other side. I fed them all. Noticed at that point that the sorrel wasn’t even tied, there was just a remnant of a halter, and down the line, his rope was hanging slack. He had broken free and come down to his buddies. I fetched the twine and fastened a bit of halter from it, since I had already given away two halters that night. Nice horse, really nice boy. When he came to the floor, I thought that the private bidder was the high at $100, but when he was called sold, it was to the kill buyer. His halter spontaneously fell apart at that moment. My heart sunk with the halter.
This is the horse that I am thinking about this morning, of all the ones that sold to slaughter; this nice horse who has done no wrong.

We  began a tradition here at Rosemary Farm,  accumulating a few babies in the fall, and wintering them as a group. The ‘Baby Band’ is a joyful part of our winter, as they gain confidence and learn this is home, and begin romping like baby horses should romp. We feel this is something that many domestic horses miss out on, as they are trained early, separated, stalled alone…they miss out on crucial horse lessons. We try and offer our babies this chance.

The Class of 2010 included Heidi, Casper, Dash and Finn throughout the winter, the original Baby Band. Heidi and Casper were owner surrenders from a loving family that could not care for them; Finn was an auction purchase for $5, and Dasher was a part of a sheriff’s seizure and cruelty case.  How intoxicating to watch them grow and play! To watch the natural course of herds at work, as the babes get disciplined by the elders, discover snow, taste new things, and learn to use their muscles. Watching babies slid on ice during a sprint race; roll around making ‘horse angels’, and begin to run to you at the sound of your voice.

Winter turned to spring and the babies grew; In the spring and summer, the Baby Band grew with the addition of Jude, AnnaBelle and Aggie Jo. By fall they all began to be adopted. First Heidi and Casper together, then AnnaBelle, next Jude, and finally Dasher, all left for new homes. Always so hard to coax them into the trailer knowing they are leaving for good, but with each and every placement, feeling so happy about their new home and future. We choose homes based on compatibility with the person and also homes with other horses; just a few is ideal. The babies, when they leave, know how to be a part of a herd, they know that there is a leader and they know how to listen and they know how to test! All healthy attributes for a young horse to carry into the world. They know that humans can be worthy of their trust, and that humans can play with them and lead them and protect them. They enjoy being scratched and know how to walk on a float, together with their person. I am so proud of them!
Two members of the class of 2010 stayed behind; Finn is becoming the herd leader of the home band and will remain as such, as an anchor for  new horses. Trained by Whisper, our mustang, how to be a Horse, Finn is emerging as a natural leader, fair and just. He and Molly are permanent members of the sanctuary, rescued from slaughter and now in their forever home here. Aggie Jo will also remain; she arrived in May 2010, a severely starved little filly who would not allow herself to be touched. Despite illness and neglect and on the point of death, she retained her pride and her independence from the humans who neglected her. It took several months to win her trust and bring her back enough so that we hoped she might live. After seven months with us, she is as trusting and gentle as a filly can be. Her health issues are still quite serious, with her growth plates not closing and stifle and other bone issues, as a result of her malnourishment. Likely, if she lives to adulthood, she will be a very very small pony and will have lifelong care needs. So she will remain at home here, and has become a link to the new babies, the Class of 2011!
The fall brought us three colts. The first one arrived from the kill pens, a sweet and handsome colt we named Noah. Noah was under a year old and underweight, but gentle, with training begun, and has been easy to love as he has grown here. Noah arrived sick, with pneumonia, which dragged on for awhile. He bonded with Aggie as soon as we let him, and the two grazed side by side throughout the end of fall and into winter.
Another phone call brought to us quite suddenly two more colts. The person who had starved Aggie had another colt, but was (finally) getting out of horses. They were all going to auction, all his horses, including two five month old babies, weaned early for the sale. For the price of trailering we could have them both (colts don’t bring much at auction and he knew it). We were thrilled to be able to get them and spare them both Aggies’ winter of starvation and also the broker’s clutches.

They arrived scared, on a trailer, a tall appy baby and a smaller sorrel pony colt. He was whinnying to another horse locked in the front compartment; his mother. She was headed to auction we were told, unless we wanted to take her for a few more bucks. They had me at ‘she’s going to auction otherwise’ and we took her off the trailer. Lexi is a beautiful, finely built, pony mare, a paso cross, spirited and (surprise!) ill handled. And all she wanted was to be with the dearest thing in the world to her, her colt. Of course I reunited them. The colt was only five months old. I know that some wean at that age, and in fact, Lexi’s milk had dried up, but she is still his Moma, and still has plenty to teach her son. Within hours she had adopted the appy colt as her own as well. So the Baby Band of 2011 was formed.
A few months have passed, enough time for Noah and Aggie befriend the new additions. Sawyer, the appy colt, and Noah have become playmates, running and kicking like Finn and Casper did last winter. Aggie and Hamlet, the pony colt, are about the same size, and Lexi is the nervous mother to it all. But not quite as nervous. A key to our training here is working at Liberty, so the horse is free to go. Until a horse will willingly spend time with me at liberty, I don’t force a halter and commands on them. Lexi is trained to ride I hear, but that can wait awhile. Right now, both she and the baby band are learning this is home.