Some horses remind you to begin at the beginning.
You know nothing about them and they cannot tell you in words. Nor do they want to open their hearts to you. You don’t know what field they were in yesterday, if it even was a field, or whether they were cattle prodded onto the truck, or cold cocked by a handler, tripped, thrown, slammed…you don’t know. You don’t know what is behind that watchful eye, that did not choose to be ‘owned’. So you have to take a big step back and go slow.
One of our newest mares, Clover, has reminded me of this. Clover walked onto the auction floor a few weeks ago, with her handsome colt at her side, and literally took my breath away. Clover is a dark bay mare of great beauty, like a morgan, as is her son, trotting warily beside her. They were tagged separately, and he would be ‘weaned’ there on the auction floor, with no halter training and no friend to help. I was unprepared to buy her, and as I panicked, she sold to a kill buyer for less then $200. Bidding began on her son, and another kill buyer was the high for just $10, until I bid. As they were dragging them apart, we won the colts life, for $20.
We then made a quick trip to the back and asked the kill buyer to please sell us the mare, and for a small profit he was happy to oblige. They don’t always, so I was grateful. There is no feeling in the world like I felt that night, finding the mare already sorted back with the ‘slaughter horses’, and calling out to her child, tied off with the ‘private sales’, and untying her and walking her out and reuniting the two. No feeling at all. How basic is it for a mother to want to protect her child? While I know that many horse people would have said that the colt was ‘old enough’ and yes, he would have lived, assuming we could have safely trailered him; but, why? Most horse people that I know would also prefer to wean a baby in a way that is safe and humane, introducing the colt to handling and to friends, both human and equine. I believe that a basic line is crossed when people forget that animals have feelings too.
But that is the pre-story really, because now the mare Clover and her son, Cooper, are safely here, in their own field. Cooper is responding beautifully to handling, with the natural curiousity of youth and the support of mom. We hope that he will be gelded this week, to further enable him to move beyond Mom in a way that is safe and healthy.
Clover is the real challenge. She is between 7-14 years old, but since I cannot look at her teeth I cannot tell. She has been calling for lost family, horse family, and is sad and wary. She feels alone. She has explained that she has been ‘handled’ by people, and it has not all been pleasant. She moves in a protective way, shouldering in to claim space and authority, and to protect her neck from pulling. She knows how to spin and kick out, not to connect, but to warn. She knows how to rear up to get release; again not striking out to hurt, but up, to escape. Shall I detail how I know each of these things, or can you imagine it? I think you can! And it is scary when a horse strikes out, and clearly there were smaller signals before those actions, that I missed. I need to pay closer attention. She is saying ‘no’. OK, got it.
But ‘no’ won’t really work for even basic, safe handling at Rosemary Farm. The goal is to find ‘yes’, to establish clear leadership, based on trust. This mare is going to be tricky for me. We believe that she is in foal again, but have not been able to safely check (see above, rearing and kicking). We believe that she foundered, from the appearance of her hooves, and likely around the time of the birth of Cooper. This could have been caused by any number of things but cannot be addressed if she doesn’t trust enough to be touched. But trust, by it’s very definition, cannot be forced.
So we begin at the beginning. I am spending time with Clover. I can now brush her at liberty, and pet her gently while she eats grain or hay. If she spins to move me I chase her off. If she faces me she is allowed in. It’s a balance of trying to not put pressure on her, but not let her put pressure on me, either. As we get to know each other, I hope that she will begin to trust my behaviour, and that I can begin to trust hers. She has such intelligence behind those eyes, and her expectations of me as a human are pretty low. I don’t know if she thinks that I have intelligence!
So we are going to get to know each other. From the beginning.

I love that Oberon now has enough strength, and trust, to wag his head proudly at me, impatient for grain, knowing that he will not be hit and knowing that grain will come. I love when he struts like a proud stallion, flashing a shadow of the gaits he once possessed before he was broken.
I love that Razzle is walking better each day, and that she runs out to greet Oberon each morning as he roars and squeals and welcomes her back for another day alive.
I love that Molly knows when I call her name, whether she is to run to me with the herd, or whether (being out of bounds somewhere) she is supposed to take off and slip quickly back in the way she came, unseen by the rest of the band. I love that we lead that band together. I love that then I can approach her, this huge proud black mare, and pet her gently, and she turns and mouths my fingers. I love that she is so gentle and so fierce.
I love watching Finn and Rhett playing at sunrise, circling and rearing and gently nipping, showing big trots and high tails like flags. I love watching the mares watching the boys show off.
I love watching Aggie Jo grow up, becoming strong of limb and mind, a confident little leader. I love that she enjoys watching chunks of ice float downstream, and I love that I have taken the time to learn that about her.
I love that nearly any horse here can be lead gently with just a loose lead about their neck, or just by verbal commands. I love that they trust that we will lead them somewhere safe.
I love that Apollo is calm and happy and that he jumped! That he is thriving despite abuse and illness. And I love how beautiful his sister Sparrow has grown, without a trace of darkness in her soul.
I love that the christmas colts have learned to drink from the stream, and canter around the herd, and come when called. I love that the already trust enough to have their hooves trimmed and coats brushed out at liberty. I love that they are growing.
I love that Clover nickers at me now, a low three beat call, as I approach. I love that her son is learning early that there are humans that are trustworthy. I love that they are still together, peaceful in a field.
I love that I had the chance to know Jed, and that because of that love, I miss him every day. I don’t regret a moment of that. I love that others beyond our little farm got a sense of his magnificent soul, and could see the value in a broken down amish horse.
And I love that others out there may read these words, and knowing the love of a horse, share my happiness.

Know what a horse wants more then anything else?
You guessed it, other horses.
THEN they will eat and flirt and roll and do other horsie things, but they need their herd first. It’s lifeblood. It’s life. It’s protection and companionship. And the more I observe this, the more amazed I am that it’s not generally considered important by many horse owners. Even selfishly. A happy horse is healthier, and a better athlete and a more balanced personality. A happy horse makes a better riding companion and a more trustworthy creature to entrust one’s life with. A young horse taken too early from it’s mother and it’s herd misses out on all sorts of healthy horse education. An adult horse that is sold and re-sold, it’s relations constantly disrupted, broken, becomes itself broken, unable to easily interact and form relationships; nervous, or too aggressive, or overly shy….and in the end, not as successful with it’s human relationships, either. It’s universally beneficial to recognize the deep herd connections in our horses.
And now you know how herd groups have arisen at Rosemary Farm.
As horses have arrived here, their personalities and abilities are evaluated. We also look at the current make up of each band at the farm, and see where the new one might fit. Introductions are made over a fence, and then one by one, the herd is brought and introduced to the new horse. This can take time, depending on how it goes. Some horses have not had other horse friends, or run with a band and it takes them longer to figure it out. Some overdo it with bravado, or fear, and others quietly slip into the fabric of the group. Pecking orders are re-established as the new horse finds friends and finds a place. Even the lowest horse in a band has a purpose and wants to belong.
When it comes to adoptions from the farm, all of this is taken into account. I read once that a gorilla is more aware of being part of a family then he is an individual, like a finger on a hand. And I can see that each band here has it’s own life, and losing a member affects them all. So if a horse has become a crucial member of a band, they are removed from the adoption list. This includes herd leaders, or semi-wild members who have found a measure of peace. We are more likely to adopt younger horses, because that mimics what would happen in any species, as the young move off into the world to have adventures of their own. Older horses are the most heart-breaking; a band will not usually allow them to join, especially if there is weakness, and there isn’t a lifetime of respect to build upon. But we work on it, and sometimes they find a way in. An older horse, already having suffered the trauma of homelessness, will not be asked to go through that again, and is home here.
When adopters come to us, one of the first things we explain is that none of our horses will be allowed to live alone. Some owners are shocked or annoyed by this. “I will be around”, they say, but I ask, Do they sleep in the barn? Are you there at 4am, when there is a scary sound, or 6am for a scratch, or 2pm to watch over a nap? Can you show a colt how to drink from the stream? Can you show the ex-racehorse how to rear in play? Can you teach the hierarchy signals sent by the flick of a lead mares’ ear? These things we have seen here. We are particularly grateful for our BLM mustang, for showing the young boys how to be a horse from a first generation wild one. Fact is, having a human as part of a herd is great, but it is no substitute for another horse.
We like to say that any adoptive home has to be at least as good as living here. We don’t mean that to sound so egotistical! because we cannot provide as much one-on-one as some horses desire. But we do provide space and time to be a horse. With other horses. And that’s a pretty good place to begin. We provide a team of people smarter then us, equine experts in their own fields, to help care for our horses. And with care and space, many upset or angry or frightened horses find peace. Watching a happy herd of 18 horses, sleeping or grazing or thundering down the mountain, is awfully addicting. Come by sometime and see for yourself.
Goats don’t cut it. Sheep or cows won’t do. Horses need horses. Trust us, it’s magic, like air in your lungs magic. Like earth under your feet magic. Like stars in the sky, our herd is more aware of being part of a constellation then being an isolated planet. And that is how it was meant to be.

Our first feral colt was Finn. It was my first auction and I was unprepared for it. Finn and I met in the back, where he was alone in a small pen, head down, depressed and scared. He wasn’t wearing a halter, but had rough marks on his face from recent failed attempts. I brought the skinny colt a bit of hay, which perked him up, and I took note of his number, figuring that a young horse had value and would find a home. He was run through the auction nearly last, and before he came onto the floor, they set up 8′ high fence panels. I didn’t understand why, until they opened the door and he ran in, angry and scared and unmanageable. I understand now, that untrained young horses, much less stud colts, aren’t wanted by anyone, even kill. They are too much trouble.
I watched sort of in shock, as his opening bid amount, dropped and dropped, to $5, and as many readers here know, we took him home.
That was nearly three years ago, and Finn has blossomed into a gentle young horse and herd leader here. What I wanted to share was one of the techniques that we devised to help all of us become friends.
Finn, like many that we have now known, had some previous handling, and it was ugly and frightening. This makes our task even harder. Finn was being kept in isolation, partly for health reasons and partly because he was a stud. And being a stud was adding a level of testosterone to our interactions that made it even more difficult! I called our vet to geld him immediately and they arrived, and laughed. “We can’t geld him” they said, “we can’t even touch him!”…”Ohh…” my voice trailed off, “I thought you could dart him or something….”. The vet team kindly explained that they would need to be able to calmly halter him, stand beside him, and stick a needle in his neck. They showed me how to use a tooth pick to get him used to the sensation of a needle. Then they packed up, “call us when he’s ready”.
I was left alone with a wild young stallion.
I have tried ‘join ups’ with some success, but felt I needed something else, I needed to have the young horse get used to me, and get used to being handled, and consider it a pleasant experience. And I had to do something that would keep us mutually safe. This is just what worked for me. I decided to use food.
Food isn’t the most unique way into a horse, and some would say that it’s not a good one. BUT, Finn does not need food now to feel safe and comfortable with us, and we do not use treats or anything else at all when at liberty with our herd. So maybe as a way ‘in’ to a scared and starved horse, it’s not so bad.
I began by using a grain in a rubber pan. At first, even this was too scary, and needed to be left in his enclosure. He would circle suspiciously, and sniff cautiously, and creep in for a bite. Then leave. Finn probably hadn’t had grain before, he certainly hadn’t had a lot of food! Finn liked food! And Finn liked carrots. I started putting out tiny amounts at various moments in the day, in various parts of his enclosure, so he began to look for it, and then look for me. Finn learned quickly. After a few days, I started setting the bowl down and standing near it. This was a big step, and the ‘trick’, from the human’s point of view, is to never chase the horse, even by putting a hand out, and following a retreating horse with a hand. Let the horse come to you. Finn finally saw that he could step near me and eat, and I would not try and touch him.
Food on the ground evolved to bowl in my hand. Even closer, Finn got used to coming into my space to eat. This borders on hand feeding and that can have bad consequences, but in this case, Finn was already so frightened, and so ready to bolt, that he needed to feel safe being near a human. And this needed to grow into touch. One touch and Finn was gone. He really didn’t like people. (in another blog we re-count getting him home!). So now that he enjoyed his grain, he was going to have to work harder to get it. As I held the bowl with one hand, I held my other hand up over it. In order to eat, Finn had to willingly put his head under my hand. Many times he bolted. I had to ease into this, holding my hand without any tension, by my face, and slowly lower it when he was NOT under it. If he retreated, my hand did not follow. As he became used to brushing his mane against my hand without awful consequence, he willingly stepped up. The space got smaller that he would duck into, until his nose would touch. I began to switch my hand location, so that sometimes his cheek or underjaw would get brushed. If the contact was too much, he could pull away and I would not follow. It became HIS CHOICE to initiate contact, and it was rewarded with yummy food and soft scratches.
These times extended, as Finn became used to being touched. As Finn jumped less, my hand would become gently more insistent, petting longer and staying with contact for a second longer, then releasing. I began to stand at his side, and began reaching under, teaching the beginnings of ‘release on pressure’, bringing his face in, and into food. I do believe it’s easier to help a young horse learn and adapt, and it wasn’t long until Finn looked forward to visits. We began adding Finn’s ‘good night carrot’ to the daily routine, and finding him flat out snoring in the morning.
Introducing the halter happened in the same small stages; first by having a rope halter present, then by touching him with it, then by insisting that if he wanted to eat, he needed to get scratched with the halter. Rubbing his face with the halter morphed into putting the noseband up onto his nose, and then removing it before he did. Step by step, Finn lost his fear and began to enjoy being touched and scratched, and soon enough Finn was gelded, and able to join the herd. And by then, we were trusted friends; without any food.
I know that there are many systems for gentling horses, this is just something that we developed that worked for us. We have used this ‘bribery’ technique for a pile of colts, who have come to us and just need a chance to learn that people can be safe and caring. I am using this technique right now with Cooper, a yearling colt who arrived unhandled and in need of motivation to bother to deal with us. Cooper can now be scratched and touched all over his head and I am starting to bring his head around, to re-introduce the halter to him. If it gets too much, he can back off and we try again later. So far so good.