A word about Attachment;
As I haltered and walked Bo up the path and to the gate, he was curious. Gracie followed close behind. As I took him through the gate, he was more attentive, and Gracie was blocked from following. As we moved farther away, in front of the barn and towards the trailer, he nickered back. Gracie, now concerned, considered how to go through, under, or over the fencing, but could not, so she called instead. And called, as Bo and I went to the trailer. He did not want to leave. I’m not saying we are ‘all that’, but we have been home to him, and trailers have never meant anything good to Bo. We don’t know how many homes he has left, but now there is one more. Bo hesitated, and then obediently loaded, but was shaking. We could both hear Gracie calling. While I feel that this move is a great chance for Bo to get more concentrated care, it saddens me. Horses form such strong bonds. Their hearts feel the same sorrow, fear and loneliness of ours. And the same LOVE. I so wish that other people, horse caretakers, would see this. So that fewer hearts might ache….

Meet Cheetah.

Cheetah was an appy gelding of unimpressive height, build and appearance. He did boast a loud coat that one either loved or hated. His wispy mane was usually trimmed back. Cheetah was a trail horse, considered “bombproof”. Cheetah lived and worked at a riding stables, where he could be hired out by the hour for trail rides through the network of property owned by the stables. Cheetah was probably there a long, long time.

Here’s a photo of Cheetah with a young girl riding him….

The girl’s mother is nearby, and you can see how carefully the ride is beginning. This was the only horse this girl ever rode at the the stables, where she came every other Sunday. She loved Cheetah, and as they grew familiar with each other, they would race through the woods, knowing each turn in the path. There was another girl who always rode a palomino mare, and the four were found together, for years. After a time, money became tight, and the girl went on to other interests, as happens with young girls. She finished high school, then college, traveled to Europe, moved to New York, and had a career.
But the girl never forgot her friend. Many days and nights she remembered the appy with tears in her eyes and love in her heart. Even though there were no longer any actual horses in her life, they remained in her blood. If ever near a stable, she would stop in, and if hiring a horse for an hour was possible, she did. No horse was ever the same as Cheetah, and there was no relationship to enjoy, but at least it was a HORSE. Dreams have a way of stubbornly finding a way to ‘yop’. Eventually this young girl, as an adult, found a way back to her dream. She walked away from the big city and her career, and founded Rosemary Farm.
Yes, this Rosemary Farm.
So how can I feel badly about riding stables?
But Cheetah might have. Cheetah may have been very unhappy there. I don’t know. I don’t know what his turnout was like during the week, or his care or food, and I don’t know what became of him. I know he worked hard on weekends, but as my parents would say, they worked hard all week! I knew enough to book Cheetah for his second hour each morning, because he wasn’t tired out like he was later in the day, and I could extend my time with him into his one hour break, walking and brushing him. I didn’t know anyone who owned horses where I grew up, so this stable was my only access to the creature from my dreams. Cheetah, for one hour each week, was ‘my’ horse. Cheetah allowed me to ride him, walk him, groom him after our lesson..Cheetah allowed my dream to grow. As it is said, one cannot love what one does not understand. As a child, Cheetah provided me with understanding. As an adult, I now wonder if it was worth it for him. As a hack horse, his life might not have been easy, but I have never forgotten him. I still weep with love when I see his face. And gratitude.

“You look out into the blackened night, where the fields are, and cast a single word onto the moving air, “HORSES!”. It’s a summons, a wish, and a prayer all rolled into one, and it floats out, casting for a dream. Silence. Then the ground whispers, and the drumming begins, increasing in tempo and in force, as your heart quickens in time. Rushing waves in the air precede the band and suddenly in full glory, snorting stamping and glowing, they are around you, 10,000 lbs of horseflesh and spirit….your band, not your possessions but your tribe, and the greet you as one of theirs.”

We’ve received a few cards and notes from Jed’s friends, and some photos, for which we are grateful.Today we received a beautiful painting by a young friend, Olivia, who now raises money for horses by selling her paintings online.
Take a peek at the gift we received;

and on the back she copied one of our favorite horse poems…

We love this painting of Jed, and will keep and treasure it, along with ‘Little Jed’, the beautiful puppet created by our friend Beth.
They are echoes of the horse that was.

Many friends still talk about Jed, and share his story, as they hear about his final chapter with us.
My favorite quote so far, “That horse did more in nine months then most people do in a lifetime”.
We couldn’t agree more.
We miss your smiling face Jed. I still look for you over the hill in the morning, I still listen for your loud chomping, a sound carried and caressed by the wind in our little valley.

(originally posted on FB 12/13/11, 8 am)…
I am not an animal rescuer. I am just like you. I am a person going along life, drawn towards the things that make me happy. But I stumbled upon a horse who needed help. And another. And another. I did not say no. I helped. And then continued to help,. And I won’t stop until my life’s blood has run it’s course, which, to be honest, is increasing it’s flow with the effort. I do not identify myself as an animal rescuer, because my dearest wish is that the long line of creatures needing my help would become shorter and shorter, so that my days could end in peace with my herd.
I am a living being, a member of this planet, and my best gift is to give back all of myself.

Started writing a long blog about history and karma but would rather cut to the chase. I don’t feel like a writer today, just a sad horse owner. Apollo is very sick. He likely has an IBD, which is generally considered fatal. We are learning what we can and exploring possible drugs, but to be honest, he looks like shit. His body looked pretty good for awhile in the summer, not ideal but improving. But since then, he peaked and has declined. His gut is huge, and increasing. He has not developed muscle in his chest and butt. He developed bad rain rot in the fall, the only one in the herd to get it like that. I initially blamed myself for his condition; that I hadn’t done a good enough job on care, or worming or exercise. That I was failing him. Now I wish that were the case.
To try and address his condition, Apollo was wormed again thoroughly and re-checked and is clean of parasites. His skin was treated. He gets extra nutrients. He lives with an active band that all look muscled, except for him. His mane and tail have never started to come in well. By comparison to his half-sister, he is in trouble. His belly continues to grow. I guess I was hoping that he was just more slow to come around, that he would be ok. But if there aren’t worms, or a baby in that big belly, what is there? His exam yesterday answered a few questions.
Our vet performed both a pelvic exam and an ultrasound, to isolate where Apollo’s problems are. Apparently water retention would have been a preferred problem, but Apollo, it appears, has an IBD>, or Inflamed Bowel Disease. Additional blood work is being done to confirm this. There are different versions of these, but basically (my simplistic understanding) is that his body cannot move food along well. It’s all sort of sitting there. And he can’t absorb nutrients well. These issues are quite serious. His lack of absorption explains the lack of muscle and condition. There is one very expensive drug that we can try and see if it helps him, I think it will run about $7 a day. It is worth a try to see if it makes a difference. The immediate concern for him is that he will rupture. More likely, he will begin to feel worse, stand off, begin to not eat. Colic is a concern for horses with this condition. So far he seems relatively comfortable and he is happy with his herd. Since Apollo has never known health, he probably doesn’t even know how sick he is. He is only 4. He has become such a sweet sweet colt in his time here. Starved his entire short life, a life that will not be much longer. That is heartbreaking.
I didn’t feel as connected to Apollo until he left briefly this summer. The experience of being taught to trailer, and going to a new place, showed me how much he trusted me and liked me. Like many here, he is quiet and not always ‘demonstrative’; after all, he is a horse, not a dog. But I was proud that he trusted me, looked to me for guidance and my love for him grew in return.
Honestly I don’t know if this is good karma or bad karma. He is here now, he is home. The futures I had imagined for him must be re-written. He is my horse and he will be my horse now until he dies. At least I can do that for him.

Welcome our new Christmas Colts, Comet and Blitzen!
December 22, and the car is packed and ready to travel 6 hours to my sisters for the holidays. But before I hit the highway, I have a stop to make, at the hospital where ‘Mini B’ is recovering from surgery. He is doing really well, but we are new to each other, so I spent about an hour with him in his stall, making friends. Now it’s getting late, about 4pm when I am on the road, and now I am passing by the exit where the regular horse auction is held. On the very night it’s being held. Two hours before a sale begins. I give myself all of the reasons I should not stop; we are full at home, I am not even headed home, money is tight, medical expenses are up, winter is beginning, etc, etc, etc. But I stop. Just to use the bathroom. And take a peek.
I head inside and straight to the horses. The first pen I look into holds a pair of weanling colts, baby brothers. Shaking and staying away from the gate, they are thin, neglected and unloved, and only about 6 months old. They are covered in rain rot, and their long little hoofs show the lack of either trimming or a place to exercise. Halter marks are smashed in their faces but were removed. They are covered in dried poo. They are adorable.
I get some hay from a nearby trough, and bring it to them. The smaller of the two comes forward, and his taller shy brother tentatively steps up behind. They are hungry. I hold the hay for them, and after they start chewing, I gently pet the head of the one nearest me. He curls a little, leaning into the touch. Of course I am besotted. I decide I will wait, and watch the auction, and make sure they don’t sell to the kill buyers.
There aren’t a lot of horses at auction, but not a lot of buyers either. I am proud to share that there were three other rescues present, so I am not alone, and the horses here tonight are not alone. There is a third colt, also about six months, in another pen, and when the auction begins, another rescue steps up for him. I wait and watch; Our pair doesn’t come onto the floor until the end of the sale. They are announced as brothers, and we all watch and listen as the opening bid drops and drops. I wait. If a private home wants them, I won’t bid. The auctioneer has lowered the opening to $10, and the floor is quiet, everyone watches for any bid. Even the kill buyers aren’t interested in the tiny thin pair, so what will happen to them? I raise my card, before he declares them ‘no value’ and they leave the floor. “Bid!” and we are in…The auctioneer searches the crowd for anyone else, even pointing at a few folks, but no one else wants the skinny colts. They are ours, for $10 each. I am thrilled.
Our regular hauler agrees to hold them for me for a few days, since I really, really need to be in Maryland! I get a halter from my car, and find the boys again backstage, now my boys. I enter their pen quietly, they are so scared. Gently I sidle up, and slip the halter on the smaller colt, and begin to lead them out. Or I try to; they don’t know how to lead, and the auction guys want to go home. But they are patient with me, and one gets behind and just clucks to move them along, which is very gentle for them. I walk the babies thru and out, into the waiting trailer. My hauler reassures me that he will put them in a stall and feed them well until I return, and I believe him. He was so good and gentle with Jed.
Finally I get back on the road, hours and hours late. But my heart is full and happy. By 11 pm on the black highway, I give in and stop at a hotel. Eight hours later I am driving again, and soon with my human family. Part of my brain is back with the new colts! The holiday passes quickly, and I rush home, awaiting the christmas colts arrival at the farm. And then they arrive, just as thin and full of promise as I remember. They are beginning a new life, as we work to get them to health and happiness. We have named them Comet and Blitzen. Comet is taller, with a beautiful white patterning and a partial blue eye. Blitzen (which means ‘lightning’) is smaller, more friendly and feisty, and is also being called Zip for his spirited frolicking within his first hour here.
This is what we do. I am so happy that I stopped. It was the best christmas present one could ask for.

On the eve of the eve, en route to celebrate the holiday with family, I found myself compelled to stop at the horse auction. It was the same feeling I had the night I went and found Jed there, after having publicly announced my intent to NOT go. I felt that there was a reason that night, and a reason this night. The reason was a pair of frightened colts, and I brought them home for the same amount as Jed, $10. Was his spirit possibly there? I don’t know, but I could see Life, repeating.

The next day, with family at the christmas eve service, I watched my little niece and nephews participate in a nativity pageant, complete with handmade animal costumes. Tiny dancing sheep and goats and other creatures, in the nativity. We sang songs of course…”come and behold him, born the king of angels..” and something about this lyric, brought to mind a flash of Jed, my first vision of him. “Oh come let us adore him”… Gorgeous and tragic, head tied tight at auction, he is seared in my brain. I understand that any comparison of horse to human may offend some, but that lyric and the remembrance of Jed in such pain at the hands of man, literally caused me to choke up. The song continued, I spent most of the service trying to hold back tears, my mind elsewhere. Carrying Jed out of that auction house that night, and bringing him back to life, in our manger, was noble in it’s own small way. I guess I knew that he was on borrowed time but as you know, dear reader, we fully embraced Jed in our lives and our hearts.

Now the colts are home. Maybe six month old. They are still jittery and frightened, but learning quickly. I know they miss their moms but they are very curious. It was very soon that they peeked over the stall wall at the teenage horses. An older appy colt leaned towards them, and the baby boys clacked. As the appy colt clacked a year before. Have you ever had a moment, my friend, when the astonishing clarity of the circle of life is illuminated before you, and you realize that you truly will not always be alive, and neither will any creature, and that makes it all the more beautiful in it’s fragility? Such was the moment watching the thin little colts in Jed’s old stall, repeating ancient life patterns. Eventually death awaits them, but a wonderful life awaits them first.

Sometimes it’s difficult for me to express emotion face to face. Thank you for indulging me here, and allowing my heart to speak to yours.

Jed, back on Dec.2.

Warm for December, scattered horses finding bits of hay across the field, lazy.
One filly is standing much farther off then the others; Jojo. Her back is turned, all fuzzy and chunky now, facing the brook. I wander quietly over to see what has captured her attention so fully. Stopping about 10 feet beside her, I crouch down to share. Aggie Jo is watching ice. Ice and snow chunks actually, as they float by, downstream. She is mesmerized. The snowy chunks are freeing themselves from the banks, breaking off, tumbling slowly in the current, shedding bits of themselves in beautiful patterns. Density changing, white becoming translucent, all patterns and bobbles and fluidity in a downstream dance. She finds one just coming into view, and follows it, as it passes us and continues by the rocks and tiny whitewaters, until it disappears in the dark waters. Then she looks at me, to share, and I smile. We look for another, and play this little game for awhile, watching ice float by, ‘watching the wheels go round and round’… I point out the tiny frozen waterfall cutting down the steep bank across from us, and she follows my gaze. I partly stand, to step forward to the snowy edge of the bubbling water. Jo comes with me, as I pick up a chunk of the ice that we sniff and examine. Then she steps to the waters edge and lowers her head, taking a long cool drink, while I stand by. I use my hand to slurp a bit, sharing. We’re friends, she and I. I understand the beauty she sees.

Not ready to look forward so still looking back.
Jed on 12/2/11, in the morning.
There are a lot of other photos of that morning that I am choosing not to share. Jed was in pain. But I do believe that to the end he knew he was loved.

I’m not going to keep posting these links on the FB page; that has to continue forward for the other 30 plus horses alive and thriving at RF. This is just me, grieving my horse. I know he was ‘my horse’ to a lot of people,
and THAT is awesome.