Not bad for a horse that nearly died...

So a funny thing happens when you get a couple of horse people together... the horse stores begin to flow. It doesn't matter if is an English rider and a Western rider, we have one thing in common, our love of horses.

With this in mind I have been thinking over the past horses I've had the privilege to know. As I seek out rescue stories, many seem to have that quality. While I could share horse stories all day long, and sometimes I feel a little confined. People in my life aren't horse people. It confounded my mother that I married a computer tech instead of another horse person.

But I digress... also known as squirreling in some circles.

When I was somewhere between eight and ten I was taken to see barrel racing. I suppose my parents figured I should get involved with something to keep me out of trouble. (I have no idea why it wasn't 4-H). I decided it looked like fun and it would be fun to try.

My horse at the time was a little black horse that had a terrible habit of biting named Beaux (Bo the French way). He bit me on several occasions, and I don't remember but I was hanging around with some kids in the local arena and Beaux was my hero. One of the kids wasn't very nice to me and Beaux bit him in the knee!

While Beaux was a nice trail horse and a nice horse for a kid, he probably wasn't barrel racing material. Since we had at least fifteen head of horses at any time there was probably one suited to just about anything I might have ever wanted to do.

See that's the thing with a dude string, we bought the dregs of horse society, many of whom had a previous life as a competition horse. These horses had just become to old, lame or just plain didn't win enough.

There were three candidates for my future venture into gymkhana (games on horseback). Ute, Comanche and Pal.

Ute was a beautiful line back dun. His coloring was perfect, nice soft brown with a dark line down his back, and then a little darker mane and tail. He had a nice temperament, we could put anyone on him, they could have a freaking crying meltdown and he would just plod along with out batting an eye.

I believe that Ute was a kill pen special. He had a little problem... First he had a broken nose, not sure how that happened, but he had two large welts where his nose had healed. I don't remember reining being a big deal in the early 80's, but Ute had to be at least middle aged so was reining big in the late 70's? Well whatever he had been trained for, they had trained him to do sliding stops. He had done so many sliding stops that his hocks were fused. So for us it would be like our knees didn't bend anymore. So as you can imagine he had a rather strange gate. He wasn't lame, per se but he was only ever good for trail riding after his injury. So cross him off the list.

Next up was Comanche, HE was a buckskin, not a large horse but he was a pretty little thing. I think he was on the list because he was youngish and fast, but I don't think he was trained. See, Comanche had a little problem being a run away. On a certain bend in the trail or when ever he felt like it he would just take off for home at a dead run. Now he wasn't hard to stop, you just had to actually TRY to stop him. When he took off most people were to scared to actually pull back on the reins. My folks thought that he might be to much horse for me at that age, so he was a tentative.

Lastly there was Pal, I don't remember if he was a kill pen special. We were told that his original name as Apollo, he was a creamy colored palomino, but it wasn't always this way. See when you are going to buy a horse people want to cheat you an they sure did with Pal.

Now I don't remember how this went down but Pal was so sick when he was sold to us he was nearly dead gentle. I believe that he was colicing (or he was so sick that colic was a bonus) when we bought him but he was drugged up so we didn't know. Until he went down, and it was bad. I don't know why he lived, he rolled so much he rubbed all the hair off his back.

My first memory of him was him defecating blood... No literally. I remember as a child dry heaving when I saw this. Some how my parents nursed him back to health. Once he was over his sickness they still couldn't use him because he had no hair on his back! He was a golden palomino but after recovering from is illness he was a cream color.

Unfortunately we also learned, he was NOT the most gentle horse. He was kind of a dick and picked fights in the line. He would bite the horse in front of him an kick the one behind.

The one thing he had going for him was my parents thought he would be quieter than Comanche because he was 20 years old.

One day my parents got me on Pal an we were living at Pantano Stables which conveniently had an arena. At the time of this event I didn't know that Pal was HIGHLY trained, he was a parade horse and a sport horse, just about any showy thing you can do with a horse he could do. He was no stranger to competition in an arena either.

This fateful day I took Pal into the arena for the first time, I walked him around, he was fine. My dad said well, why don't you try loping him, just nice slow lope.

OK, so I did whatever to attempt a lope and he leaped forward into a dead run. While I had been riding for a few years up to this point this caught me off guard. I flopped forward and then face planted into the arena dirt.

I'm a little fuzzy on the chain of events after that but I remember mom holding Pal while my dad was putting me on him. I started screaming that my dad was trying to kill me! They got me on him and the led him over to the hitchrail.

Rule #1 of riding horses, if you fall off and don't require immediate medical attention, get back on!
I spent the evening with a mild concussion. The very next morning I thought my parents would be mad at me... Not that, that makes any sense, but I fell of in a big way. So in a meek little voice I asked my mom if I could go ride Beaux. She said she was so relieved, she thought I would never get back on a horse after my fun in the arena the previous day.

It seems to me that it was a couple of years before Pal and I tried that again. We were in Payson at that point. For an old man he kicked ass! I won third my first year competing in the gymkhana series and I ended up winning all-around the next year. Pal LOVED competition, I think he liked it more than me!

Thiefed from http://www.cowanbrothers.com/ it's not me



While there are more stories I could tell, not bad for a horse that nearly died when we first got him.

Warriors for the Horse Goddess

This article isn't here, as it's rather long for a blog post and I wanted a permanent home for it. It was originally written to submit to an anthology, but the anthology is not being published so I decided to go ahead.  I think that the message of how important defending horses from slaughter and abuse is needs to get out there as much as possible. It is also a sort of experimental piece for me, intersecting my own journey back to horses through Macha with information both on historical/literary Horse Goddesses and the political reality.

Warriors for the Horse Goddess 

 

Horse racing at Lughnasadh

 Seriously, stop spamming this with race wagering sites! This is an anti-racing post, so that's just insane! Stop!

As we approach the Gaelic holiday of Lughnasadh or Lùnasdal, one of the things that comes up is the association of the holiday with horse races.  The key event at this time was the assembly known as "óenach" which is glossed as "a contention of horses" and included swimming and racing the horses (Patterson pg 144, O'Donovan, pg. 127-128). These events probably were centered around people proving their horse stock, for sale or prestige, and in Ireland fairs held at this time, such as The Puck Fair, still involve horses. One famous horse race in Ireland was during Conchobar's assembly where Macha was forced to prove her husband's boast that his wife could outrun the king's horses.(The Metrical Dindshenchas (English) Irish). Horses were an important part of the culture, so horses as an important part of such events is not surprising.

Through the past couple of decades I have seen several Celtic Polytheists of various types suggest that this connection means that attending modern, professional horse races is a way to relive those old assemblies. I have even seen it suggested that this in some way honors the Horse Goddess. This concept troubles me deeply, for while it may not be on the same level as those who suggest eating horse meat the reality is there that, if nothing else, going to races supports an industry that routinely slaughters horses and use nurse mares whose own foals are killed at birth for "pony skins."

Explain to me how that is honoring a Horse Goddess? I suppose it replicates the horror that Macha and her twins suffered but do you want to be on that side of it? There are other ways.

Never mind that the atmosphere at these events is far from that of an ancient gathering.  

Saorsa has been practicing for

Obviously, not many Pagans have their own horses to race for fun or to "unrace" (we have long joked that we have unraces, we just make sure to take time to just hang out and watch our horses be horses...however, we may be doing some run racing soon, including water races although Saorsa may be the only one willing to go in). To replicate these horse races what can one who doesn't have their own horses do?

Personally, I favor taking time to volunteer at a horse rescue. Lughnasadh is often a time when hay is coming in, but help is needed in all situations by most rescues. If you can't volunteer, consider taking up a collection for a local rescue. Many Pagan groups today collect food or other items for charity when they gather, why not do so for horses. Perhaps even towards an ex-racer and/or nurse mare foal focused group?  Perhaps also take time to write to your congress people and try to end horse slaughter.

Consider attending county fairs. While I'm not crazy about either showing or racing at all, the level at fairs is far different from professional race tracks especially at the smaller fairs. Please consider still making that donation and writing those letters, as some of the horses in the show ring will end up in rescue or on the road to slaughter too.

Of course, for your own games I know many groups who do hobby horse races.  Often there are kid races where most of the kids old enough to walk think it's totally uncool and adult races where the adults have a blast proving to their kids how uncool they are. It brings "the horses" home. And make those donations and write those letters just because it needs doing.

If you want to honor the Horse Goddesses, save the horses. If you want to have a feel of ancient times by being around horses be around horses that need you. Do not think for a moment that there is anything but corruption at the race track or that it's somehow holy. The horses deserve better, the Horse Goddesses certainly do.

Nerys Patterson. Cattle Lords & Clansmen: The Social Structure of Early Ireland, Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame, 1994

 John O'Donovan, ed. and trans. (with notes and translations from Whitley Stokes) Sanas Cormaic Calcutta: O. T. Cutter for the Irish Archeological and Celtic Society, 1868,

The value of the backyard rescue

When people look at the idea of getting a horse in need, they usually think of going through a rescue organization. This is a great thing, of course, these horses need homes, the groups need to make room. Room enough is a big issue, there often just isn't. Therefore many groups offer their other resources to those who must rehome their horses, without taking the horse, giving people who want to have some assurance their horses will be somewhat safer (there are no guarantees while the option still exists) from going to slaughter or otherwise end up in an abusive situation. There are many who see going through a rescue as the only option to save horses, but this isn't the case. Again, because there isn't enough room. Or money. Or volunteers. Or other resources. And because not everyone is conscientious enough to utilize a rescue. Some, in fact, probably would be just as happy if their horse went to slaughter, as long as they got rid of it.

Any horse that is sold cheap and, even more so, any going "free to good home" is a rescue opportunity. Horses dumped somewhere are too, of course. These horses often end up either in a bad home (a cheap or free horse is far less likely to get proper care), slaughtered or, if lucky, end up at a rescue. The last, of course, keeps another horse from having a spot. A few end up back yard rescued, taken by someone who will treat a free or cheap horse well. Even if that horse isn't perfect, and few are.

But for some of us any horse is a gem.

Saoradh had been a backyard rescue of the worst sort. He was starving and was owned by someone both ignorant and uncaring who had just hoped to make a buck on some horses. He'd come from a history of abuse, was scared and scarred. If we'd not have found him he'd have died within a very short time, if he'd been found by or reported to the vet first he'd likely have been destroyed as too far gone and never had a chance. He was indeed a gem.

Many years before that, I did my first backyard rescue, just a few miles from where I found Saoradh on the same road. The place we found him at is now the home of the dairy farm we buy from, actually, but the, obviously, owned by someone else. I'm glad the farm has been rescued too, as it were, now a place where humane treatment is the key. Phoenix was a Shetland with Cushings, also starved (because he had a big belly was the excuse, never mind the bones poking out everywhere else). I had no plans to have a tiny pony at that time, but it was an age when up here backyard rescues were really the only option, there were no organizations that existed as far as I or anyone I knew (including the farrier who trimmed his rocker feet) knew. He lived out his life here, just as a pet and as a companion to my Mum's Morgan stallion. He was an unruly brat, of course, nearly as stereotypical of Shetland as one can be, but a gem all the same.

Saorsa is the first horse I got through a rescue, she may or may not be the last. Because with no rescue real close, sometimes the backyard ones come first. And we're doing it again. This time the horse is in far better shape and is safe, because she was dumped on our Saorsa's trainer. She had belonged to our trainer before, actually, but had been sold and after three years unceremoniously dumped back with her. The trainer can't keep her, she has enough equine mouths to feed, like a rescue sometimes there just isn't enough room or money. So there's some feeling that she's not a rescue, she's safe. But where might she go? What might happen? There's always the chance that she'd end up in a bad situation or taking up room at a rescue which then won't have room for another. So we're taking her. Because our trainer knows we don't think a cheap horse is worthless, their monetary cost means nothing, it's what's in their hearts that counts and all horses are gems. Misty certainly is.

We need another horse, a "husband horse" literally; my husband had never been on a horse until he rode Misty a short time ago. And Misty is perfect, as perfect as horses might be. She's in her late teens, been trained, has a good temperament. She was apparently in a sort of "petting zoo" situation, however, and it has affected her. She's not the same, loving, people focused horse that had been sold, which is one reason that the trainer was leery about what might happen to her. She's obedient, but unwilling, unfriendly and just sort of puts up with you. This is characteristic of a people-focused horse who hasn't had anyone to bond with for three years. She was brushed and petted by who knows how many kids on days that she was working, probably had food thrown at her; she doesn't want to connect because no one has connected with her for three years.

She'll come here, we'll work with her, as long as it takes for her to figure out it's okay to connect with us. We'll have the rest of her life *knocksonwood* to do this. She'll be coming home forever. She'll have Saorsa to teach some horse social skills to, which is the other reason we need another riding horse (she's small, but not that small, while our Mini horses are far to small to be safe with Saorsa). She won't end up at a rescue, she won't end up in slaughter, she won't end up abused by someone who thinks she's worthless. Because she's a gem.

Addendum: I don't know why I didn't think about it, as it is a discussion I had not long ago, but really the Minis my parent's bought were backyard rescues too. Many pet Minis are, because so many of them go oversized, these are unwanted by breeders and show folk, and so are sold to those wanting pets or non-competitive driving horses. Minis do not end up at commercial slaughter, because they are too small for the facilities, but can end up in horribly abusive situations and many end up at rescues every year. These "larger" Minis are a great option for rescue, either backyard or through a group, for those who are willing to take care of them but aren't equipped to take on large horses. Again, it saves the ones who might be abused, it keeps room open for rescues.

10 years ago....

....just about now, my father and I went to talk to a man about a horse. We had found him the day before, driving to places where my Dad knew horses were for sale and there had been several at this pasture, now there were three. Two were neglected looking but in good condition, the third was a walking skeleton. I left knowing I had to try to save that horse and, as the pasture was not located where the man lived, we went home and called him.

My father was encouraging about buying the starving gelding, I was quite sick at the time and I think he felt that saving this horse would be healing for me. When he got a closer look at the horse the next day, I know he started to have second thoughts. We had, of course, called the vet and a farrier (all three horses had horribly neglected feet...we were going to make sure all three were dealt with for that). No one said anything to me, but it was clear all three of these men realized this was a walking dead horse, there was no way to bring his weight up before he'd die without that itself killing him. Especially since he also had a heart murmer. The owner, however, was in complete denial, "he'll come right up once the grass comes in better..." The vet explained things to him, looked at me and asked again if I was going to buy this horse, I confirmed that I would, and he told the man I was keeping him out of jail. I had mixed feelings about that, really, this man should have been jailed for this, stupid is no excuse, but I also knew that if the horse was seized he'd be put down as too far gone. I needed to try.

And I did. Until his Coggins test came through and he could cross the border from VT to NH, I went several times a day to the pasture to feed him softened senior feed. His starvation was caused by horribly neglected teeth, which nothing could yet be done as he had enough strength to fight the attempt to float them and he needed more than that. And he would not survive being sedated. I'd walk him after he ate, to help him digest. He came home to us, amazingly he survived for nearly 6 years.... I won't tell more the details of his story as I already have here. In short, it was clear he was abused long before he suffered the neglect we found him in. It took some time to gain his trust, for him to feel safe. But he got there. Perhaps for the first time, he trusted a human and he found some peace.

What I will note here that I named him Saoradh, which means "freedom" of a redemptive sort. When I named him I didn't even realize how long things had been bad, how much redemption he needed. I didn't know that on the day I bought him and started feeding him, it was his 27th birthday. I didn't know he was the Arabian gelding a classmate had talked about having, which her parents boarded at a "trainer" we knew was incompetent at best, and possibly far, far worse. I didn't know how many hands he went through, or the kind of people they were. But I did find that out, as he was freeze marked and his registry developed an online program to look such stuff up.

I just knew he hurt, that he was suffering. And so was I. I was ill, had spent some time housebound. I hurt emotionally from the loss of Midnight and Trouble not a decade before. A loss that kept me away from horses until shortly before we moved back here about 6 months before finding Saoradh. I knew if I was going to be around horses, I had to save them, because I couldn't save those two. I had volunteered for awhile, before my health got as bad as it did, at a horse rescue. When we came here, I was looking for a horse to save. I found one.

And was saved.

We healed together, going out on slow walks around the pond, letting him stop to eat while I rested my weak body. We both built strength. Our timing was neatly synchronized it seems as I look back. We both started too weak to really walk far or fast and we progressed. We later learned to "dance" together, as we did Natural Horsemanship ground work to build trust. And eventually we were able to explore together, when he was secure enough as well as strong enough to accept me as a rider, I was also able to trust my body's ability to handle riding.

And I know so many stories like this, of people who saved horses only to find themselves healed too. Whether emotionally, physically or both. There is something about a horse that can touch people so deeply, to pull us out of ourselves, to give us strength. Dogs have this too, for some other animals as well, but these two creatures, I believe, horses and dogs, we have a primal, instinctual connection with.

Which is, again, why I'm against horse slaughter. Because we have this connection, they've been with us for millennium, we as a species owe so much to horses. They were both partner and tool to different people; sadly, it's often the tool that people see. They no longer are needed for work, for the most part, and so they mostly are seen as sporting equipment. And like tools and sporting equipment, horses are discarded when "useless," when they get too old to preform, when a new style comes along. Wild horses are seen as pests to be rid of, foals as nothing but money makers with profits coming from quantity over quality and those not bringing the big bucks as sporting equipment making at least something for their greedy breeders as meat.

There are those who look at horses that end up like Saoradh did before I found him and proclaim that this is a reason we should have horse slaughter. But old, sick horses are not what the slaughter industry wants. No, it wants young stock, fat and healthy, like the PMU filly (on the let here) I adopted and stopped from being sent to the feedlots. They'll sometimes take fat and healthy middle age horses like Midnight and Trouble, but it's not the most desired and easy to sell. And the truth is, I have very good reason to believe that the person who sold Saoradh at the auction where the guy whose pasture I found him in owned his registration, and therefore it wasn't the freeze brand that kept the kill buyers from buying him but instead that he was too old. Because that probably, and I have good reason to believe this, that was probably the intent.

And what if he had been slaughtered? After a lifetime of abuse, of fear, of distrust, I suppose the terror and torture of the slaughterhouse would have been along the lines of how he expected it to end. Instead, he got another chance. He got a chance to learn that not all humans wanted to hurt him, he got a chance to trust, he got a chance to feel safe and comfortable. To be rewarded for all he and his ancestors have done for us. And it's the least he deserved. It's the least any of them deserve.

I thank Saoradh for his time with me, for healing me, for sending Saorsa to me (for I feel he did in some way). I miss my old boy.