Hi Everyone.
If you’ve been keeping up with 13 Hands on social media or if you’re receiving email updates, you already know that a few weeks ago, the farm welcomed a herd of horses from out west. It was the first time I got to witness a delivery, and the only word I can think of to describe the experience is emotional. Thankfully, despite their exhaustion from a long trip across the country, most came off the truck well enough to express their excitement by running into their spacious field, kicking up some mud, and almost immediately, finding the sweetest blades of grass, the most abundant hay pile, and their trough filled to the brim with fresh water. My relief for them, my hopes for them, my deep gratitude for the 13 Hands team who made this happen settled in my throat. I could barely speak.
However, my ability to remain composed was seriously tested in another way when someone pointed out two horses who could not be turned out with the others: Classic and Emily. Simply put, they are victims of heinous neglect.
That evening, I described Classic to my husband as “a skeleton with hair.” Weak, depleted, and withdrawn, this twenty-two year old mare appeared to have little fight in her. When you see an animal who has literally been starved, it’s near-impossible to not give up on humanity. My emotions turned into a sea of disappointment. People did this, I thought. How could anyone with a conscience let this happen?
Immediately, though, I thought of Sarge and American Woman, two rescues I know who arrived at 13 Hands weak and emaciated, like Classic. With consistent, loving care, Sarge got back to being a robust horse who lived as an active member of his herd until he passed away a few months ago. And American Woman is still thriving, matriarch of her field, enjoying life with other rescues by her side. Well, not all people will disappoint you, I conceded. And if anyone can give Classic a chance, it’s the team at 13 Hands.
Just as I allowed myself to feel some hope for Classic, someone else pointed to Emily. From where I stood, she looked like she’d once been loved; her weight was okay, and her coat had its natural sheen. Another sure sign: her comfort around humans was clear as she grazed serenely on a lead rope held by one of the staff members who stroked her back and spoke to her softly. When I heard that she is completely blind and pregnant, my heart almost broke in half. Who gave up this beautiful soul? Who discarded her? If not an act of cruelty, what sad human circumstances would lead someone to neglect her obvious needs and abandon her?
Although Classic and Emily came from the same place, I’m not sure they knew each other before they arrived at 13 Hands. But because they both need daily attention, they were given stalls in the barn at night and room to stretch their legs together during the day. And although it might not be what she had in mind for herself, Classic has embraced the role of Emily’s guide. The two are now bonded. Their friendship–along with the care they’re getting–is quite possibly the perfect antidote to the toxicity of their past trauma.
Classic is docile, for sure, and although her inner spark hasn’t yet emerged, she’s on her way. She’s eating, she’s drinking, and she’s allowing her humans to get close. The more she feels valued and loved, the more she is assured that she will never again be neglected, the better her chance for a full recovery. When you come to visit, tell her how happy you are to meet her. Tell her you care and want to see her well. Tell her this life is worth fighting for. I’m a big believer that your messages will be received.
Understandably, Emily is spooked easily–loud noises can be jarring–especially when Classic is more than a few feet away. I’m discovering new ways to communicate my whereabouts when I enter their pen: talking to her at all times, even playing music on my phone from my back pocket. (I think she likes Brandi Carlile as much as I do.) That said, this mama-to-be is incredibly good-natured, affectionate, and eager to meet you. When you come to visit, just let her know with your voice and a gentle, outstretched hand that she’s getting close to the fence. She’ll appreciate the heads-up.
I’m truly so proud to be part of a group of people, including you, who are doing everything possible to combat neglect. If I’m there when you come to visit, please say hello. I love meeting people who don’t disappoint.
Karen
