Refuge Farms (www.refugefarms.org)

It was a simple email. And, unfortunately, a very common email. Someone pleading to Refuge Farms to consider accepting a horse that badly needed a home.

It was a polite email. Written well and by someone with obvious medical knowledge. Unlike some that arrive with poor grammar and no spell check before pressing that "SEND" button.

But this email . . . Well, as I read it, I felt my stomach turn and I recognized that feeling. That intuition. That "knowing" that this horse was meant to come here. We were meant to meet this horse and give her sanctuary. This was an email meant for Refuge Farms.

Sara at the Dane County Humane Society in Madison, WI was making a plea to many, many rescues in one last attempt to find Helen a home. Here is the email I received on the morning of February 2, 2012:

"Sandy,

My name is Sara and I am the Animal Medical Services supervisor and resident horse person for Dane County Humane Society (DCHS) in Madison, WI. We have an approximately 15yr old, 100% blind Standardbred mare here that I am looking for rescue options for. Her name is Helen and she has been with us for nearly 3yrs. She is blind due to cataracts and possible glaucoma. Originally Helen was part of a cruelty/neglect case in southern WI. She is in perfectly good health other than her eyes and is completely sound. She is very level headed and incredibly easy to work with.

This past weekend she banged her left eye and is now requiring Ophthalmic ointment and bute daily. This is the second time in a short while that she has banged up that eye. I spoke with our vet that has been treating her since we got her and she agrees with me that it is time to take out (enucleate) both of Helen's eyes. Helen seems to have increasing pressures within her eyes and her eyes just aren't as "quiet" as they used to be. Helen is 100% blind, so it wouldn't make much of a difference to her if we remove the eyes other than improving her quality of life and comfort level.

However, enucleation can be fairly pricey (I've been quoted around $1500-$2000 total for removal of both eyes). After speaking with my shelter director, without any placement or rescue prospects for Helen, we just can't afford that surgery (and even then it might be tough for DCHS to do financially). We are not set up as a large animal sanctuary for long term equine housing. I'm contacting as many equine and large animal rescues to try and find placement for Helen as I can, but fear I won't be able to find her a place to go and will have to euthanize her. It is an unfortunate testament to the current equine market and industry that a perfectly healthy and sound blind horse has no placement options simply because she is blind.

I am wondering if Refuge Farms would be able to make room for Helen and offer her sanctuary. If this is something Refuge Farms might be able to help with, please let me know. If not, I completely understand but figured it was worth a shot. Or if you have room to take in some equines, but not a blind horse, I also have some other horses I am seeking placement for. Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,
Sara"

I let the email sit for a while. Testing my guts and my heart. A trip to the barn to try to visualize where we would put another blind mare. Who would be her partner? How would we help her adjust? And what about the surgery? Where would those funds come from?

A few hours later, I put my intuition to the test and emailed Sara. Would DCHS sponsor the surgery to remove her eyes if Refuge Farms agreed to give Helen a home? I felt she may be a candidate for fostering or she may stay here on our grounds, but if that financial support were a possibility, we would consider accepting her.

The response flew back at me:

"Sandy,

Thank you for replying to my email. I spoke with our shelter director and she informed me that DCHS would be willing to pay for the cost of Helen’s enucleation surgery if we can find placement for her (up to $2000 for either a full surgical suit or standing enucleation – whichever the examining surgeon felt was best option for her). We are willing to give you the 2weeks you requested to attempt to find her foster or placement within your foster network. If no placement leads have been found, DCHS will need to make a decision regarding her continued care or euthanasia arrangements on Monday, 2/20.



Thank you for helping us try to find placement for this great mare and give her the life she deserves. I am also continuing to attempt to find placement here as well through word of mouth in our local horse community (all other rescues have turned me down). Please keep me updated on your progress and I will do the same for you as well. I have also attached a few pictures of Helen to this email as well.



THANK YOU! I am so excited for this. I so badly wanted to avoid euthanasia for this horse and can’t even begin to express how grateful I am that you are able to take her in and give her the care and sanctuary she deserves. Everyone here will be so happy to hear this news. It is exactly the valentine’s day gift of love and devotion to animals that we all needed!

Go Team!"

The doors opened. My hesitations were addressed and resolved. It seemed, to me, an obvious fit. This little mare was a dier. She had come through so much in her short lifetime! To be a part of a massive county seizure meant the conditions she had endured were beyond bad. It must have been pathetic. To have lived through that meant this mare had a purpose. And a strong will.

And then DCHS stood by her for three years. Committed to saving the life. And when the prospects so totally dried up, they made one last push to try to save her life. And that's the email I read. How much more obvious does it need to be?

I emailed Sara a week later after pondering the situation even further. And in that time, last Sunday morning at 7:30am, the barn door flew open as I was scooping feed for The Herd. Into the barn walked a good Friend of THE FARM. A kill buyer. Yes, a man who hauls horses to slaughter. But also the man who has given us Beauty and Liz-Beth and Hannah and Joseph and RedMan and Dudley and Appaloosa Mare and Quarter Horse and even Little Gracie. This man gets a hug from me when he shows his face. And then after the hug, I ask, "What's in the trailer today?"

It was a little mare. And for several reasons, all I can tell you is that she had huge bumps on her head from some sort of injury. And she was now blind. Newly blinded, you could tell, by the way she flung herself and tried every position of her head to try to force her eyes to see. Frightened beyond belief. Not mean or angry. Just so frightened she was about to explode.

I went into the trailer and was able to hook a lead rope onto her battered halter. She came out of the trailer with grace even though she was on trembling legs. She came into the barn with me and I placed her into a stall that we had thrown together in under five minutes - hay, water, and a bit of feed. I soon saw just how much her head hurt her . . .

The mare was very thirsty and indeed very hungry. Upon examination, I saw the tummy that looked like a belly full of food was distended from parasites. Her spine sticks up from her frame. There is no layer of fat under her hide covering her ribs. She so wanted to eat the feed I put in front of her but she opted for the hay, instead. Two full square bales of hay in not quite 48 hours. THAT's a hungry horse!


It didn't take me long to see her attempts to get to the feed. She puzzled me. Why wouldn't she eat the feed? Soon I saw that the bucket sides were too close to her face. And even the slightest brush to her face caused her to throw her head up in fear and in pain. I retrieved one of the big ground tubs and her nose followed the smell of the feed. Issue resolved. Now she could eat her feed.

Drinking was only when I swished the water with my hand and gave her encouragement to stick her lips into the bucket. Once the water was 4" lower that the top of the bucket, the same fear of touching overtook her thirst and she stopped drinking. So, getting her to drink water became a routine for us - she drank, I topped off the bucket, she drank, I topped off the bucket. It worked! And the mare soon came to approach the bucket whenever I entered the barn.

Her fears, however, only seemed to escalate with each day she lived here. I took her outside after being here 3 days and it took me 2 hours to get her the thirty feet into the barn and back into her stall. The next day, I took her outside and after 90 minutes of trying, I soon realized that her fears were larger to her than her common sense. This mare would break her neck before she would go back into that barn.

So, I placed her in the corral and put her feed and water under the eave. This way it was protected from the rain and snow but still outside enough that she could eat. What to do with this mare . . . She appeared to be a smaller version of Beauty. Fear was larger to her than anything else that could possibly happen to her. No human could do anything worse to her than demand her to go into that barn.

My next email to Sara was to arrange the pickup of Helen. I hoped, but without any expectations, that Helen may be the ticket to calming and helping this little killer mare. I didn't know but I felt I had to try! To save both of their lives!

The retrieval of Helen was uneventful, except for the blizzard! However, Saturday morning, the volunteers and Sara were all present to tell me the stories of Helen, to introduce us, and to watch as she and I walked into the trailer. Truly a calm and knowing mare. She smelled me once and then stood quietly. I whispered to her, "Let's take you home, Helen." She started to walk beside me.

Once home, I insured The Herd was blanketed and set for the night and, thanks to Bridget, everything was set and ready to go. Opening up the back of the trailer, I found Helen standing patiently. She inhaled the smell of the place deeply and stood quietly while I tied her to the trailer so that I could blanket her. Not a flinch. One smell of the blanket as I told her, "This is your blanket now, Helen."

Both last evening and then again this morning, I've stood and watched these two mares. And I saw the visible answer to my prayers. Helen met the kill pen mare over the gates of the corral. One squeal out of both of them and then I brought Helen into the corral. The kill pen mare came up to Helen and nudged her. Then that sore, frightened little mare took Helen over to the tub with some feed that I had placed out for them. Sharing their first meal together. Instant pals. Long lost friends reunited. From that moment on, the two have not been more than 6" apart.

And the kill pen mare? She isn't running. She isn't calling. She isn't frantic. She is calm. Just like Helen. I shake my head as I see part of the reason for Helen's presence on this land. Already she is a healer. A healer to this little mare and to who knows what other creatures in her future with us. This morning, as I fed these two friends, I asked Helen to teach me how to be so calm. Would she do that? Her response was to nudge me and drop a bit of feed on my boot. My first test. I didn't move my foot nor did I pick up the feed. Lesson learned, Oh Great Teacher.

One more thing you should know about Helen . . .



Yesterday when she was blanketed I spent a bit of time with her in the trailer. I told her how sorry I was that she had to go through the hell she went through in order to be part of a seizure. I told her how lucky she was to have landed with the DCHS. And I told her how honored I was to have her here with us. At Refuge Farms. And then I told her something else. Something that I've said almost fifty times now but still am amazed at how powerful these words are. To me and to them. I spoke to Helen and I said,

"Helen, I have some things to tell you. They are promises. And there are four of them. Our original Three Promises and now Laddee's Promise. I give you Laddee's Promise out of love and respect for that mare that taught me so much. And I give you all of these promises, Helen, with all of the strength and meaning I have in my body. Welcome home, Helen. And now listen to these promises that I have to give you . . . ."

Enjoy the journey of each and every day,
Sandy and The Herd and Helen

"The Three Promises

1. You are safe here. No one will hurt you here. There will be no more beatings, whippings, electrical shock, use of performance enhancing drugs, or abuse of any kind. There will be respect here. You are safe here.

2. You will be fed here. There will always be at least clean hay and fresh water available to you. No more fighting for the hay. No more eating tree bark to live. No more thirst. No more eating of other's manure just to survive. You will be fed here.

3. You are home. You are here forever. No more fighting for a place in a herd. No more new water to get used to. No more trying to find the way in a new barn with a new caretaker. Even in death we will keep you at THE FARM. You can relax now. You are home.

Laddee’s Promise

You will be healthier here. Always considering the quality of your life,
we will work diligently to restore your health. We will care for you.
We will support you. We will love you. And we will medically treat you.
It may not be possible to bring you all the way back to healthy,
but we will work very hard to help your body and your spirit rebuild
as much and for as long as you are able. You will be healthier here."

Yesterday started out as usual, but just a little earlier. I was in the barns by 5am to hook and feed and adjust horse blankets for the day. You see, I needed to be on the road by 8am this particular Saturday morning or I was going to miss a series of appointments that I had arranged for the day. Appointments and meetings all the way until 6pm Saturday evening. So there was no time for dallying with the horses. I topped off the stock tanks while they ate, changed litter boxes, fed the house cats, and then turned The Herd loose and collected their buckets and ties.

By 8:13am I was heading north on Highway 128 to retrieve an elderly little mare who needed some cares. Her teeth were bad, you could tell by her breath that she had at least one infected pocket in that mouth of her. Her feet? Well, have you ever seen pictures of one of Santa's elves? And looked at their feet to see their curled up elf slippers? This little mare's feet were as deformed as those elf slippers yet she managed to walk and get herself around. She was thin, yes, but I attributed that to the fact that her mouth was painful and she was given hay to eat. She needed soaked hay cubes and a pelleted feed to help her sustain her strength until her mouth healed.

The plan was that the owner would have the mare on a lead rope at the end of their driveway when I arrived. So, as planned, I called when I was fifteen minutes out. "Yes, we're here," they said. Assuming they meant they were at the end of the driveway, I pushed on. Upon arriving it was another story.

The mare was in her pasture. And to the far west of that pasture. The family was in the house and the mother came to the door to hand me the halter and lead rope. "She's out there," she said, pointing to the mare. "She won't come to us so you'll have to go out and get her." The door closed. And once again, I found myself thinking that I've never had a problem with a horse. Never met a horse I couldn't get along with and didn't respect at some level. But humans? Oh, please! Don't get me started . . .

I walked right up to the mare and she loaded with ease. I had buted her and given her the first round of vaccinations right there in the pasture. When she entered the trailer she went to the pile of fresh hay and smelled it. And then she looked to her left. On the floor I had one of those huge black tubs with a hefty portion of pelleted feed in it. The mare spotted the feed and turned her head to look me right in the eye. Gratitude poured out of her weary eyes. I told her she would be cared for now and that she would not have to eat in pain anymore.

The drive to the east side of Black River Falls was uneventful. The sun was shining and the roads were bare. The trailer was carrying a deserving horse to her new home and I had confidence in the woman who was accepting the mare. She knew how to "bring 'em back", as she called it. This mare would be just fine and I had a happy heart.

Returning home, I found I was only running about 45 minutes later than planned and so I set about dropping the trailer so that I could run my next errand. Now, I've put this particular trailer on this particular truck and taken it off this particular truck hundreds of times in the past ten years. It is almost automatic. But at the beginning and the end of the process, I always stop to check the doors, check the chains, and check the cable. I take a moment to really look at the rig and make sure it is complete and correct before I move. This day was no different.

Before I began cranking the trailer up I did my review check. Hitch was unlocked. Chains were gathered up. Tailgate was down. Cable was disconnected. Emergency pull wire was disconnected. Timber blocks were centered and under the jack stand. I believed it was okay to crank. Fifty turns of the the crank. Change legs at turn number twenty-six. Crank. Let your mind wander for this part. Just keep cranking.

BAM!

I heard it after I saw it. The timbers under the jack stand had shifted and the trailer dropped with a thud to the ground. Standing next to it, I had no time to move. Just to look down at my feet to see if they would be under the trailer or not. Thankfully, they were not. And I was off to the side of the trailer and not under the neck of the trailer. Had I been there it would have been an entirely different story posted this morning.

Moving back, I began to tremble. I made my way over to the porch steps and sat myself down. I was shaking and crying. Madder than a wet hen and yet grateful. I was angry for the inconvenience of having to take the time to get the trailer back up again but so very, very happy that only the front of the trailer was damaged. Grateful that no one else was standing with me or coiling up a chain or a cable and standing under that neck when it came slamming into the earth and dropping over four feet. It could have been an entirely different story posted this morning.

Once I gathered myself, I went back to look at the trailer. Every single weld spot that holds the jack stand onto the trailer is broken. The jack stand itself is jammed up with the gears, I expect, broken to pieces. The plate that holds the jack stand onto the front wall of the trailer is in the shape of a "V". And the bolts that hold that plate onto the trailer have snapped off. As I looked over the situation and the trailer, I wondered what was holding the jack stand onto the trailer? What was holding the trailer those two inches off the ground? I don't know, actually. I don't know.

Inside the trailer, the front wall is bowed but nothing else appears damaged. I will want the frame checked, however. Having that trailer sound is vital to the safe transport of our precious cargo. And so the review of the trailer will be full even though the accident was minor compared to what could have been.

The remainder of the day went about pretty much as planned. Except for the time I took to contact my insurance agent and express my disgust with the entire event. His reponse set me straight, though. "At least you are alright, Sandy. This could have been very serious."

This morning I walked around the trailer to see if anything else showed signs of stress from the slam into the frozen ground that the trailer took. It appears safe, but again, the spot welds and the beams of the trailer must be checked. The neck is what holds the entire rig together. I won't pull a mouse in that trailer until I've seen with my own eyes that the damage was limited to the jack area. I only hope the innocent and unknowing Service Manager that I am about to meet will be tolerant of me!

What were my plans for the week? I had many. But now, my Monday will be spent getting the trailer onto the truck, somehow. Don't quite know how yet. It will have something to do with the skid loader, some jacks, some timbers, and a lot of care and precaution. Once the trailer is hooked onto the truck, then I'll get it to the dealer and impress upon them the importance of getting this trailer back on the road this week. You see, two little ponies go to their new home and Helen comes to us next week. No time for dallying. Once again - or should I stay still? - no time for dallying!

Enjoy the journey of each and every day (and be safe!),
Sandy and The Herd

As you come to know me, you will hear me say, repeatedly, "I am not a cat person." Every once in a while, it just comes out of my mouth. Perhaps it is when I'm changing litter boxes. Or cleaning up a hairball. Or trying to find a place to sit without getting my jeans covered in cat hair. "I'm not a cat person," I keep saying. Repeatedly.

I'll tell you, "I'm not a cat person", as I describe my area rugs which sit rolled up, and waiting, in the upstairs hallway. Area rugs that I'll put down on these floors someday. Or, I may describe to you the screen door that I've put on the doorway to my bedroom in an attempt to have one room in the house without cat hair! (Ask me how that has worked out!)

My childhood was a country life. We had a dog and a huge yard. No neighbors for a quarter mile and big birch trees in the yard. A swing set and a teeter-totter and an old chicken coop that my Dad made into a playhouse for me. I was never idle and never, ever bored. The dog lived outside. And there were no cats. Anywhere. My Mother's house was too tidy and I never knew their presence so I had no need or desire to ask for a cat. I never knew a cat and so I never missed one.

Fast forward forty years and I am opening the truck door to drive to work one morning. There in the driver's seat is a kitten. A little grey fur ball. Playing with his own tail. I brought him into the house and settled him for the day while I went to work and tried to come up with a placement for him. I did find a placement, but it was almost three weeks later. Too late. Kidd and I were too close for me to give him up. He could join the others.

"The others?" you ask. Yes, the others.





I have Patches, Andy's cat whom he loved dearly. Patches is a bit cranky and hard to please but she is an affectionate little girl - when she wants to be. The best way to describe Patches is to say she is "pissy". And I say that with a smile.






There is also Miss Kitty. A little mama cat - just hours from delivering - that was dropped off at the end of my driveway one wonderful summer evening when I just happened to be sitting in my Sister's swing enjoying the stars. I found good homes for the kittens and Miss Kitty became a member of my family. She is a loner and approaches for attention very rarely. If she were a horse, I would tell you she is an "easy keeper". Grateful best describes her.




Opey-Dopey is usually the first to greet you when you enter the house. That's because he lives on the counter! For eighteen years I worked with that cat to keep him off the counters. Eighteen years! And then he was diagnosed with Irritable Bowel Syndrome and requires special food. So how do I segregate his food and give him the time he needs to eat it? I put him up on the counter! And then, to make him comfortable, Aunt Colleen gifted Opey a bed so he could snooze next to his food. So, there is no longer a counter in my kitchen. Instead there is "Opey's bed" and the sink. Hah!

And do you remember how I put a screen door on my bedroom to keep one room in my house without cat hair? Well, that's where Little Girl lives. Yes, I have a cat living in my bedroom. She is a barn cat from the very first summer I lived here. Her mother was playing with her in the driveway one spring day and I stood in horror as I watched a car come speeding into the driveway, run over Squeak, her mother, and then continue around the circular driveway and take off. The little girl cat needed help and so I provided that help. In return, she provides me with companionship and an occasional hug.

This past year, you have heard me tell you that as these cats cross I will not be replacing them. I will let them live out their lives and care for them but someday, I will be catless. I will put my area rugs down, take the screen door down, and put the litter boxes in storage. I will take the kitchen counter back and remove the throws from all the furniture. Someday.

And then this past October, on a Sunday late afternoon, I heard the cries of an animal in need. Persistent, loud, desperate cries. I went into the old barn thinking a barn cat was stuck somehow and quickly figured out that the cries were not coming from the old barn. They seemed to be coming from the road!

Oh, no . . . . I could just picture an animal that had been hit and was on the side of the road in pain. As I approached the highway, I was following the noise and it took me, surprisingly, to my mailbox. Opening the mailbox, I found a little kitten. So young its eyes weren't even open yet. Shivering and huddled in the center of the metal mailbox. And screaming its head off!

I cared for the little guy and he was sent to a cat rescue. This particular rescue had a mama cat who was still nursing her young and, happily, she accepted this little guy into her litter. Whew! I was so relieved and so happy to have found the little guy. Who would leave a newborn kitten in a metal mailbox on a Sunday?

After the first kitten, I started checking my mailbox every 2 to 3 hours. The box was opened and checked the last thing every day and I began going to the mailbox on the way to the barn early in the morning. It was Veteran's Day - a day when there was no mail delivery. There in the mailbox was yet another little kitten. The eyes were open but still black and not seeing. Shivering and so frightened. When I opened the mailbox she tried to hide by facing the inside wall of the mailbox. I still smile when I think of how darling that behavior was. "If I can't see you then you can't see me". Now, how special is that!

The little kitty was weak and so very cold. I used a little syringe and gave her some warmed kitten milk replacer (which I now keep on hand!) and bundled her in some warm, dry bath towels. I tucked her into a little carrier and placed her right in front of the pellet stove. Leaving her for the night, I asked that she either just go to sleep or be waiting for me in the morning.

Early the next morning, like a little kid on Christmas morning, I went to the carrier to find a little white paw trying to get out of the carrier. And we have not looked back!

Peanut, as I call her, grew strong and has a big appetite! She took milk replacer for about a month and then I began to introduce moist food. At first, of course, she crawled right into the food bowl. But soon, her little legs were long enough that she could stand on the floor and eat out of the bowl. I had a special water bowl for her as she would have had to crawl into the big cat water bowl in order to reach the water.

I never really seriously pondered placing Peanut. There was an attachment from the moment she hid her face in my mailbox. So, all of us are getting used to having a kitten in the house. I've moved the house plants and I am never surprised to find her, for instance, climbing the clothes drying rack like a jungle gym! Kidd seems to be Peanut's favorite play thing. And I've got to say that Kidd is doing fine with her! He just lays on his side and lets her pounce and jump and roll around on him. When he's finally had enough, he puts out one paw and takes her down to calm her. He holds her there for a second and then releases her. And usually, Peanut starts pestering him all over again!

Recently, I've noticed Peanut is maturing a bit - for a few seconds! There are brief moments during the day when she sleeps instead of tearing around the house. And lately, I've also noticed her favorite place to sleep is with Opey-Dopey. Once again, the sight is so darling I cannot break it up. The way I figure, Opey-Dopey will not be with me for too much longer and when he crosses I will remove the bed and feeding from the counter. And then Peanut should move down, as well. Somebody write that down!!!

My hours at the desk are livened up by her antics in the wastebasket. Peanut finds her way into the wastebasket and then dozes. Each time I toss something into the wastebasket a flurry of activity is started and she thoroughly destroys what it was that I just threw away. And what else has changed at the desk? The paper clips are now in a drawer. The pens are in the top drawer. The tape dispenser is behind the printer. And I'm typically moving her off the top of the desk so I can work.

So, we are in transition in this household. We are still feeding Peanut in her carrier with a closed door and she has learned that if she pushes, she can escape the kennel when her tummy is full. The big cats are learning that she is high energy and not always as willing to snooze as they are. But that is changing, too.

And yes, I will still tell you, "I'm not a cat person". Yes, I will still tell you of my area rugs all rolled up and stored upstairs. And when it is time to sit in the living room, I will still be turning the throws over to try to minimize the cat hair that transfers to your clothing.



But now, I will tell you the story of the tiny kittens left in my mailbox. And how I believe that Peanut was meant to be here. In this house. With me. How this little kitten will be the one cat in my lap when I am seventy years old. And how it is still true that I am not a cat person.

But as long as you are here . . . Do you have time? Let me call her and you can meet my newest little kitty, Peanut!



Enjoy the journey of each and every day,
Sandy and The Herd and Peanut!

Robyn is a volunteer at Refuge Farms and has been for several years now. If Robyn were a horse (and I mean that with all the respect in the world), I would tell you that Robyn is "true". Like Jerry, the Roan Horse. And Handsome. And even Laddee, the Little Belgian Mare. For a horse to be "true", it must be - above all else - loyal. Loyalty is a character trait that I hold dear and expect of those - horse and human - that I trust. Without loyalty, there is no trust. Pretty simple in my limited little mind.

Well, I trust Robyn. And yes, Robyn is "true". I find that her ability to read between the lines of my bulletin board postings is almost frightening. She sees right through my attempts at humor and sees the struggle. She recognizes the strain. the worry, and the ache. And she loves the animals. All of them. Beginning with Keller (who completely and wholly stole her heart!) and continuing through to the current Herd members.

And in the center of a storm, Robyn remains calm and is someone that I certainly want in my foxhole! I have worked with her in the absolute panic when every one of the horses escaped out of the pastures and into the yard. Running out onto Highway 29! Into traffic! And me, with a leg that could not support my weight! Robyn hung in there and was critical to the safe and swift return of the horses to their pastures.

Before Refuge Farms knew Robyn, she was a volunteer in other worthy organizations. Just last Friday, a movie opened in theatres across the country. It is a war movie but tells of a different type of war. The human battle for the right to just "be". It is the battle of a special group of black military men, specifically the pilots who came to be known as the Tuskegee Airmen."

How does this relate to Robyn? Read on. Get to know Robyn and her passion for the right of all creatures to live. To be. Come to know her and appreciate her as I do. A volunteer who is true, as a way of living every day.

Enjoy the journey of each and every day,
Sandy and The Herd

"Red Tails"

I’ve been writing for the Commemorative Air Force’s (CAF) Red Tail Squadron since 2006 when it was still called the Red Tail Project. I initially volunteered to write for them because they had this cool red-tailed P-51C Mustang fighter and I have always loved airplanes.




This is a picture of the CAF Red Tail Squadron’s restored Mustang in flight! The photo is provided courtesy of Max Haynes.



I have happy memories of going to air shows with my Father, a World War II B-26 bomber pilot who flew out of England and France. If there were any Mustangs on the tarmac as we wandered the air show, he’d walk up and just quietly touch each one. This was his way of remembering the brave Mustang pilots who protected his bomber and countless others as they lumbered across the skies to and from targets in Germany and other countries. The bombers had to fly in formation and were pretty much sitting ducks for the enemy’s fighters whose only goal was to shoot them down before they could drop their payload. The quick little Mustangs would engage the enemy in order to keep them away from the bombers and many American pilots gave their lives in the effort.

As I got more familiar with the Squadron’s educational mission, I soon came to realize that as great as their Mustang was, it was really only a tool to attract attention to the real story - that of the Tuskegee Airmen, America’s first black military pilots. Their determination and courage in the face of overwhelming odds helped change the course of American history.

We have no control over our skin color. Imagine being a young college-educated black man from a northern-tier city like Minneapolis who, in 1942, has finally been given the opportunity he’s longed for – to train to become a U.S. Army Air Corps pilot. He knows he’s lucky to have been selected for the new program. He also knows he has a lot to prove because black men have never been offered the chance to become military pilots before.

He’s faced some racial bias his whole life because he’s black, but nothing has prepared him for what he sees when he alights from the train in Tuskegee, Alabama, his new home for at least the next nine months.

There are “Whites Only” signs on doors of restrooms, hotels, and restaurants as well as buses and drinking fountains. When he gets to the base, it’s not any better because, for a while, a commandant actually enforced those rules on the base. (Eventually a new commandant saw how demoralizing that system was and banned it.)

He and the rest of his class are exposed to the local “Jim Crow” laws the whole time they’re at Tuskegee. To avoid trouble with the locals who always seemed to be looking for a fight, they stay on base. They apply themselves to the task at hand because they have to succeed.

The Army brass has designed the Tuskegee program to be extra difficult because many of them want it to fail. In fact, the first class started with 13 cadets and only five graduated, including Benjamin O. Davis who would go on to command the 332nd Fighter Group, which was made up of Tuskegee-trained pilots. He also would become the U.S. Air Force’s first black general. In all, from 1942 to 1944, 996 young black men received their wings at Tuskegee.






Here is a photo of Benjamin Davis as he prepares to take off in an advanced trainer while training at Tuskegee in January, 1942.





When the pilots and their support crews were finally deployed, the first all-black Fighter Squadron – the 99th - went to North Africa where its pilots were underutilized. In 1943, all Tuskegee-trained pilots and crews reunited in Italy and became part of the 332nd Fighter Group. The Army’s segregationist policies were still in place in the field and there was no penalty against white pilots and other officers who did not return the Airmen’s salutes – or worse. The Airmen were also barred from the officer’s clubs.

Despite all of the obstacles in their way, the Airmen continued on their quest to be the best at what they did and their reputation as superior escort pilots quickly grew. They painted the tails of their Mustang fighters red so that the white pilots who would not salute them on the ground would know who was protecting them in the air.

Soon those same pilots were requesting the “red tail angels” because of the Airmen’s skills as pilots and courage as warriors. In all, during World War II, the Tuskegee Airmen flew more than 15,000 combat sorties and were awarded hundreds of citations and metals.

You could say that the Tuskegee Airmen fought two wars – one against the enemy in the air and one on the ground against the segregationist policies of the country they swore to protect. Their performance as black aviators and skilled crew members during World War II was key to the complete desegregation of the entire U.S. armed forces in 1948.



On Friday, January 20, a new movie by George Lucas was released across the country. Called “Red Tails,” it’s the story of the Tuskegee Airmen told in big screen mode. Over the past few months, many members of the Squadron have had the opportunity to meet many of the stars, its director, a producer, and George Lucas. Mr. Lucas basically bankrolled the movie because he believes so strongly in the story.







Photo: “Red Tails” star Cuba Gooding, Jr. sits in the Squadron’s Mustang at an air show this fall.




The people of the CAF Red Tail Squadron are excited that the story they’ve been telling with the red-tailed Mustang named “Tuskegee Airmen” since 2001 is now on theater screens. They’re even more excited to know that when the movie fades into DVD sales, the Squadron team will still be touring air shows with the Mustang and the new RISE ABOVE Traveling Exhibit, continuing to tell the Tuskegee Airmen’s uplifting story of hope and determination.


For more information about the Squadron and the Tuskegee Airmen, I encourage you to check out these sites:

www.redtail.org

http://www.tuskegee.edu/Search.aspx?sterm=Tuskegee+Airmen

Sincerely,

Robyn

On the morning of Christmas Day, I wrote to you and talked about the life of Liz-Beth, an elderly work horse with a need for special cares during the cold months of Winter here in Wisconsin. Many of your read that blog. In fact, I've printed a copy of the story and taped it to the stall door of Liz-Beth's living quarters at the University of Minnesota.

Your responses have paved the way for Refuge Farms to support his mare for the months of December, 2011 through March, 2012. I'm not sure yet where the remaining funds will come from but I guess that's were the faith comes in. We'll find a way or we'll sell some cheesecakes but we will find a way to keep our promises to this little mare who is so deserving of our care.

Below is a copy of the bulletin board where I have recognized those who have committed to a sponsorship for Liz-Beth. Bless you, everyone! May your goodness and love for this mare be rewarded to you in high fashion! I know for a fact that Liz-Beth is grateful and doing so very well in her warm surroundings.



I look forward to bringing her home in the muddy season. But until then, I rest so well knowing she is warm and cared for and at ease. Thank you. Thank you so very much for responding to the plea for help with Liz-Beth's cares.


Enjoy the journey of each and every day,
Sandy and The Herd and a warm and happy Liz-Beth!

Linda and Jim J. of Eau Claire, WI will support Liz-Beth for $30 per month for four months. Thank you! These are the very same people who sponsor her monthly injection costs, as well!

Nancy S. or Roseville, MN wrote me early this morning and said, "Sandy, as always, you write and my heart is touched. I would like to commit $30 for 4 months for Liz-Beth!" And Nancy also visits Liz-Beth to brush her and sing to her, making Liz-Beth the special one in the barn. Thank you, Nancy!

Karen H. of Eau Claire, WI wrote: "Christmas is the season for kindling the fire of hospitality in the hall, the genial flame of charity in the heart." Washington Irving. How serendipitous for me to quote here on your e-mail as this is from Garrison Kieler's daily poetry page which I opened just after I read your e-mail. Thank you Sandy, for this amazing story, a special gift on this Christmas day, and thank you Liz-Beth, who through her strong and beautiful spirit, evokes "the genial flame of charity in the heart. Please count me in for a supporter." Thank you, Karen, oh lover of all animals!

Tom and Julie A. of Ellsworth, WI wrote and said: "Tom & I will help sponsor 1/30 of Liz-Beth for the four months she needs to stay at the U of M. Merry Christmas Liz-Beth!" You two are so kind and supportive. Thank you, both!

Chris A. of Baytown Township, MN says, "Count me in for Liz-Beth. Keep me posted on her progress." Thank you, Chris, for continuing to be there for Refuge Farms and its horses!

Dear Harriet H. of Elmwood, WI emailed, "Merry Christmas to you and the herd! I will donate thirty dollars for four months for Liz-Beth." You may remember Harriet as the one who raised her hand quickly and strongly when we needed to rehome the Paso Fino (whom she adores, by the way!). Many thanks, Harriet!

And our very own Other Herd Member, Robyn F. of FLORIDA said, "I'll support Liz Beth for $30 per month for four months. I'm saving money on my utilities, etc. by being here in Florida so I'm happy to have Liz-Beth benefit fromthe budget change. Merry Christmas!" Thank you, Robyn! And continued happiness to you in your new home.

"Count me in to sponsor LIz-Beth. Merry Christmas, Sandy, and thanks for all that you do!" was the message from Carolyn S. of St. Paul, MN. Thank you, Carolyn, for the kind words and the life support for Liz-Beth! She's close to you now . . . drop on over and groom her, walk her, get your 'horse fix' with her! Enjoy her!

"I can swing $30.00 a month to keep her safe and well, an honor for such a grand Liz-Beth. Merry Christmas Lynn O." Thanks, Lynn. And yes, she is a grand one, isn't she? Lynn O. of Altoona, WI.

Colleen B. of Eau Claire, WI writes, "Oh, I was hoping you would put out a “call” just like this … count me in too!" Thank you, Colleen. Your heart is so generous and giving!

In her no nonsense-kind-of-way, Bridget M. of River Falls, WI lends her support of life to Liz-Beth by saying, "Sign me up....". Thanks, B. Very much.

Karen H. of Eau Claire, WI has the biggest, most generous heart beating in her chest! She saw that we were about 30% of the way to sponsoring Liz-Beth's needs for this winter and so she took action. Karen signed up for a second sponsorship! Thank you, Karen! May your goodness be returned to you ten-fold!

In this past year, I have called some "Sister in Rescue" and I have found out my hopes were misplaced. But Jeani B. of New Richmond, WI has never, ever let me down. She is truly a woman with the animals in her heart and I am proud to call her my Sister in Rescue. Jeani says, "Count me in for the monthly donations to support Liz-Beth!". Thank you, Jeani. From me, from Liz-Beth, and from your barn full of living, happy creatures.

She came to us in June of 2004. Frightened beyond belief. Her lower lift flapping in the stress of trying to stay contained - "hold it together" - when her fears were growing to the point that she didn't know if she could manage. The fear of touch. The fear of pain. The fear of work. The fear of abuse. The fear of just being alive. I don't think this mare was afraid of death - just the pain that would undoubtedly come with dying.

Her body showed the reason for those fears. Scars on her legs. Scars on her face. Scars in her mouth. And her eyes were wide and darting. All in horrendous fear. She found herself in a new barn with humans around her. And these humans wanted to touch her! The very touch that created the fear that often overtook her and sent her running out of the barn.

Our time with Liz-Beth, as we call her now, has been a time of patience and understanding. We've learned to touch her only when needed. To talk to her whenever we are within five feet of her. To always, always be gentle with her and to allow her to "take us for a walk" when she just needs to escape the closeness of the human standing next to her.

Eventually, she has learned that she is probably safe her. I say "probably" because Liz-Beth is still always on the watch. Always waiting for the angry human to reappear and create the pains in her body once again. Even though I tell her over and over again, Liz-Beth has been abused severely enough that only time will give her the freedom to trust again. I pray there will be enough time for her.

Liz-Beth came to us as Miss Bette. A strong but compact work horse with a hind leg wounded from becoming entrapped in a cultivator. No healing soakings were administered. It appears as if the wound had not even been cleaned. Asked to continue working in the fields, the leg eventually could not sustain the stress of pulling the equipment and so she was sold to the local kill buyer. We found her in northern Wisconsin on a tip from a kill buyer. "Something in this horse", he said, "but she's got a bad leg. Really bad leg."

From the very moment I first approached her, Miss Bette's lower lip began flapping. The loud, rhythmic noise of her entire lower lip flapping up against her jaw. I knew she didn't want to flap her lip. It just happened. And she was too worried to pay any attention. She was obviously feeling she had to watch out and try to save her life when "the humans" came near her.

It has taken years of patience and love. Understanding and time. Food and care. Gentle brushing and consistency. Years of never being short tempered with her. Understanding her reactions are still from her fears. Giving her time to heal - inside and out!




Today, Liz-Beth stands quietly while we brush her. No lower lip flapping. She enjoys the feel of the brush and stands to absorb the gentle touch. Amazing. After years.



Today, Liz-Beth enjoys our walks and no, she doesn't drag me anymore. She walks beside me - not running to stay ahead of me as if still in the harness. After years.

Today, Liz-Beth eats treats from our hands. A hand close to her face, at that. This, in itself, shows me just how far she has come. After years.

We will continue to work on her trust and confidence. But her body . . . well, her body needs special supports in the Wisconsin cold winter weather. And so, I write this blog on Christmas morning. As I return from the barns thinking of that first feeder filled with clean straw. We all know the story of that baby born in a small barn. With the animals. For someone who loves animals, it seems a fitting place for a future leader to be born.

In the plow as a member of a team, I'm sure Liz-Beth was smaller than her partner. I'm sure the other horse was taller and had longer legs than she did. Legs that could step out ahead of her and shift all of the load to her withers to manage. The weight of pulling the discs and turning the earth would fall totally on her if her partner got ahead of her in the harness.

And so, I'm sure, this little mare dug into the earth and worked hard to keep herself ahead of her partner. And in doing so, her chest and front legs were worn out. Completely and totally worn out. And now, that she is older, the arthritis has become prominent in her right front leg. Understandable. After all those years.

The dampness of the fall and the coldness of the air causes the joint to swell and become very painful for her. Painful to the point that she does not walk to the hay. And comes into the barn to eat her feed only when I retrieve her. And the pain of walking is too great for me to ask it of her. So, we must find an alternative. Or put her down.

And here's where our Missions decide for us what it is that we do. We support this little mare that has worked so very hard all of her life. We support her because we told her we would. We find a way to provide for her because we told her we would. We told her she would be safe, be fed, and be cared for. And so, we will do as we have told her. We will not let Liz-Beth down. For once in her life, the humans will do what it takes to protect and care for her.

Liz-Beth was moved to the University of Minnesota for boarding in early December. After 48 hours in twenty degree weather, Liz-Beth was not eating or moving. Her right front leg was too sore to ask her to move. It was time to get her into a facility that was forty degrees or more for the winter or end her life. And Liz-Beth shows me no indication that she is ready to die. No, this little mare has found enjoyment in life. In feed. In the humans that surround her. No, Liz-Beth wants to live!

I chose the University of Minnesota for several reasons. One is that, should Liz-Beth lie down in her stall, the U of M is equipped with the mechanical systems and technical expertise to safely get her up on her feet again. You just don't lift a 1,500 pound animal up by a rope around her neck. Not if you want her to survive.

Another reason is the level of care at the U of M. These people love this mare and they dote on her. They brush her. They feed her treats. And they "adopt" her into their lives with not only their systems but their hearts. Liz-Beth's lip doesn't flap when they come around. She knows they care for her and mean her no harm.

Liz-Beth is on daily meds for anti-inflammatory and weekly injections for her joints. The technicians and vet students at the U of M all work under the direction of Liz-Beth's doctor, Dr. Anne Nicholson. And I trust Dr. Anne. Completely and wholly. So I don't think Liz-Beth could be in better hands even if she were here at THE FARM. And that, my friends, is quite a statement of admission.

But the primary reason I chose the U of M for Liz-Beth is because Liz-Beth chose the U of M. On the day of her arrival, there was no lip flapping. She began eating the hay upon arrival in her stall. She settled in without stress and worry. She knew that this was home for the winter and that she would be safe and loved and cared for in this place. The main reason I chose the U of M for Liz-Beth is because she will accept the stay without stress and worry and the loss of weight to her fragile system.

For Christmas, I will visit Liz-Beth and brush her, sing to her, and tell her that there are presents under the tree for her. People who love her and want to help her stay alive. People who are willing to sponsor her for a day of life at the University of Minnesota. People who are willing to commit for $30 for four months. If thirty people commit to $30 a month for four months, Liz-Beth will live! Warm and safe this winter. Without severe pain. Doted upon and spoiled. As she should be. Thanks to you and your support in saving her life.

The time period that effects her legs the most is December through March. By April, the earth is warming and the air is changing. Liz-Beth will return home to her Big Lanna and once again join the routines in our barns. She will return to her place as the leader of her herd in the Helen Keller pasture and she will have managed to be here again in a springtime. To eat the fresh, green grasses of spring and to feel the warmth of the sun on her withers. As it should be, Liz-Beth will be with us for another year of love and brushing and feed.

After all these years, we have come to love this mare and she loves us. The horse who, upon arrival, wasn't nice and wasn't loving and was difficult to care for. But now? I can't help but hug her. And she takes it! Without a single flap!

Merry Christmas to all of you. May the gift of the season engulf you and stay in you all year long. And may you find the hope of that original barn every single day.


If you are one of those thirty people who would like to share in the gift of life to Liz-Beth, please call 715.772.3379 or email me at refugefarms@hotmail.com and I will update the bulletin board of sponsors for our dear Liz-Beth. The gift of life costs thirty people $30 for four months. I pray there are thirty of you who love her as she needs. And we may give to this little work horse the gift she has so desperately earned - the gift of life.


Sandy and The Herd and, of course, our Liz-Beth

As this Christmas season accelerates into high speed all around me, I find myself looking for real, tangible examples of the original purpose to the season. We all know the story of being born in a manger with cattle and sheep and camels and mules nearby. So, I guess it comes as no surprise that I find myself in the barns more and more each day this December. Looking for the scene that tells me, "Here. Here is Christmas. Right here."

This morning I sat and read the emails and looked at the pictures of Gracie. You see, I can't go to the barn to see Gracie. I need to look at pictures, sent to me from Gracie's Auntie Trish. Gracie is getting older and the cold weather shuts her down. Last winter, before you could blink, that little wonder of a horse lost over sixty pounds and had no interest in food. She was cold. And no number of blankets could warm her up. Nothing I could make for her would entice her to eat. She just needed to be warm.

Once we relocated her and enough time passed to get her warm again all the way through, her appetite resumed and gradually she restored her lost weight. She blossomed and showed us that had been fine. Just cold. It was no surprise, then, that even as early as last Spring, I was searching and searching for a warm home for Gracie this winter.

Now everyone loves Gracie, and I mean that sincerely. I have never, ever met a human who has met Gracie that didn't fall in love with her. Adore her. Smile when they looked at her. But to take on the cares of an elderly little horse, that is blind, is a big responsibility. Especially when the Mother of that horse is as particular and outspoken as Gracie's Mother happens to be!

But Trish I knew. I came to know her in a hole of mud with a horse mannequin as we wrestled with straps and clamps and knots and mud. Oh, the mud . . . And I soon found that this woman was genuine and for real. And I liked what I saw. Our relationship grew and it was centered around our mutual love for the horse. Trish is a private rescuer and her Jake and Willy are living testaments to her cares and understanding of the horse. In a short time, I grew to trust Trish. And that, my friends, doesn't happen easily or frequently.

So when Trish offered to bring Gracie to the facility where Jake and Willy live, I listened intently. And I registered it in the back of my mind. It would mean that Gracie would be four hours away. That Gracie would have to leave these barns for a good five months and that her daily cares and health monitoring would be in the hands of others. I would need to trust Trish with Little Gracie.

It was the day after The Fall Gala & Auction that Trish loaded Gracie into her trailer and transported her to Dale and Shelby's barn. A beautiful facility with a heated stall for Little Gracie. And a young daughter, Ainsley, who would be put "in charge" of insuring Gracie was brushed and loved on a daily basis. Trish's partner in her horse ownership, Jerry, would be checking on Gracie during the day. And, of course, Trish would be with Gracie whenever she was in the barn for her Willy and Jake.

The barn here at Refuge Farms is quiet without that little horse. I find myself waking and wondering about temperatures and wind and then I remember that Gracie is in a heated stall with fresh bedding. And I say a prayer of thanks.

I say "thank you" for the day I met this woman, Trish, in that hot, humid, muddy hole. And I say "thank you" for Jerry and Ainsley and for the facility owners, Dale and Shelby. And I say a special "thank you" for Trish's Mother, Louise, who is sponsoring Gracie's expenses of feed and shavings and hay and hoof care. These people extended their love of the horse to include Little Gracie and what a gift their love has been!

My attempts to tell you how Gracie is settling in would be weak, at best. So I am going to pass on some of the emails and pictures I have received from Trish. You'll see for yourself how genuine Trish and this community of people are. You'll see the love they have for this little blind pony. And you'll see that Gracie is, indeed, safe. Becoming spoiled rotten, but she is safe! And warm.

Merry Christmas, Little Gracie. Your present this year is Auntie Trish and her Mother, Louise, who made all this possible. Enjoy your winter and your new family of people and horses. We love you, Gracie and look forward to your return. Until then, though, I rest easy. Merry Christmas, Little Gracie. Merry Christmas, little horse.

November 7, 2011

Hey Sandy,

Here are some candid shots of Gracie Girl meeting my Willy boy. Willy became extremely protective of her in a very short time. I will continue to work with Jake to see if we can get him to come around and like Gracie Girl. For now Gracie has a stall in between Max and Mocha who come in at night. She seems to favor Max over Mocha and plays kissy face through the bars with him (don't tell Willy).

My friend Jerry (who is Jake's Dad) comes out every afternoon to feed Willy and Jake some hay and he checks on Gracie to make sure she has enough of everything. I am guessing he probably gives her lots of treats and loving as well. He is known as the treat man of the farm. Since she is used to having a round bale of hay in front of her at all times I have put an entire bale of hay in her stall and will keep an entire bale in front of her at all times so she has it whenever she wants it. She is eating her hay and nibbling on her SafeChoice. She has been drinking water, but not as much as I would prefer, but she is drinking, and her poop is solid and formed and she is peeing normally.

She seems happy in her temporary winter get away home, and the joke has become this is her winter vacation home. My plan for right now is to keep her in her stall during the day unless I am there and then she will be in the indoor arena with Willy and hopefully Jake at some point. I am usually out there 3 - 4 hours so she will be in there for a good few hours a day. I am also planning on keeping her in there with Willy and I and Jake and I while we ride so she can get some exercise and fresh air and some interaction time without a stall wall between her and the other horse.

If I can get her acclimated to Jake and Jake acclimated to her she will be able to spend some of her time outside in their dry lot with them. Until then she will have some wonderful one on one loving time with Willy. I must admit I was very surprised at how gentle and caring Willy was of her. He has already claimed her as his, and I was told by Jerry when he went out tonight to check on everyone that they were calling back and forth to one another. Willy has always been a caretaker and his caretaker role really developed after Pepsi crossed over. I was hoping Jake would have taken on the care taker role, but your insight into Jake's behavior was very helpful to me.

I find myself being OVERLY PROTECTIVE of Gracie and driving home tonight I realized I need to take a deep breath and let go, because she is safe and in good hands when I am not there. She will have a dry, warm stall with buddies at night and she will have her alone time with Willy and hopefully Jake, and she will continue to miss you and her herd, but she will be happy and eventually will be back home with her original family.

Gracie is getting her first hoof trimming tomorrow with my trimmer and I. So rest assured Gracie is doing wonderfully, and I am continuing to breath deeply and learning to let go a little bit at a time and realize Gracie is tough as nails.

I reassured Gracie your Four Promises are honored at my farm as well. I will continue to send pictures for your enjoyment.

Trish

November 11, 2011

Hi Sandy,

I just wanted to share my evening with you and what happened to me for the first time in my life with Willy boy.

Willy is very much my horse and I am very much his human. He does not leave my side for anything or anyone when we are together, and this has been proven and tested on many occasions.

Well, last night Willy boy left me for Gracie Girl. I had them out in the indoor together for some fresh air and play time, and they pretty much played kissy face and groomed one another the entire time. Willy had to be reminded a few times by a high pitched squeal from Gracie that she is not a big horse and he cannot groom her as hard as he does with Jake. Willy is a quick learner and stopped grooming so hard.

I figured they had enough loving time and it was time for Willy to come and play on the ground with Mom. Well, that lasted about a whole 2 minutes. Gracie decided to wander around at her wonderfully cautious Gracie pace, and she found herself heading for the nearest wall. Willy got worried eyes and kept looking at her and looking at me. I could read his mind, Sandy: "Mom, she really needs me!"

Keep in mind I was working Willy at liberty as I often do, and have had few problems in the past with him leaving me for someone or something else. Well, he just couldn't take the site of Gracie (his girl) walking into the wall so he very abruptly left me and rescued her. He ran between her and the wall and guided her into the center of the arena, and decided he needed to stand watch over her the rest of their time outside. This ended his time with me, because how could I ask him not to take care of Gracie and give me attention?

So, for the first time in my life with Willy, he has left me. My only saving grace is he left me for a horse and not another human, and, if it had to be a horse, I am glad it was a cute one like Gracie. Needless to say my feelings were hurt a little bit, but I quickly got over it and joined them in the center of the arena and joined in the grooming session. They both got nice massages from me, and I in return got slobbered on by Willy and hugged by Gracie.

All in all it was a wonderful night. Thinking the fun was over when I returned them to their stalls; I was surprised to find Cisco (a kitten)curled up in Gracie's hay, and very much refusing to get out of her stall; so I left her in there to find her own way out. Keep in mind I found Cisco curled up in Gracie's hay the day before and Gracie had eaten around her. Gracie is curious about the cats, and seems to not mind them, and they all seem to be drawn to her stall.

Gracie was one tired girl and no doubt her feet are a little sore from her trim, so she decided to lay flat out and sleep. Well, in walking Willy out of the barn he called to Gracie and she got on her feet and greeted him at the stall door for one last kiss good night. I took one look at Willy and told him he was pathetic, and he responded with a sloppy kiss to my face (no doubt he was reassuring me he still loves me to).

Trish

November 16, 2011

Mom (Louise)is sponsoring her hoof care (feed, bedding, and hay). I am just using the monthly sponsorship Mom is giving for whatever she needs at the time. I will sponsor the rest if there is anything extra. She is doing really well.




Ainsley is the little girl in the pictures. She goes out every night and says goodnight to Gracie.





Cisco, the kitten in the picture with her, is sleeping in her stall with her now almost on a daily basis. Everyone hugs on her, too. I told Jerry not to get too attached, and he said "too late." She is part of our family here now, and it will be hard come spring when she goes back home, but we will enjoy her until that time.



Yesterday when I got there she was laying down sound asleep in her stall and where was Cisco? Curled up on top of her sound asleep herself. They are becoming two peas in a pod and are seldom apart.


There is definitely something very magical about her. Something very magical indeed.

T

November 26, 2011

Hey Sandy,

I hope the attachments come through. They are pictures of a week in the life of Gracie. She hangs out in the indoor with me, Willy, and Jake and follows Willy around when I ride him. She is also getting comfortable with her surroundings and is walking around exploring on her own a bit. On the nights I have to work late she gets to do laps up and down the barn aisle with Jerry or Nancy.

She really puts a lot of food (hay) away, and I am not sure where it is all going! She is doing well though, but misses her family and you. Ainsely, the little girl, gave Gracie a stocking for her stall. She is soooo in love with Gracie and goes out to the barn every night to say goodnight to her and kiss her nose.



There are going to be a lot of broken hearts when Gracie goes home, but they will all be happy she gets to go home and be back with her family. She is such a sweet, sweet horse.


Hope all is well.

Trish

Reading these messages, you can see for yourself how devoted and caring these people are to Gracie. And you can see, too, how Little Gracie is taking full advantage of them, isn't she!!

Refuge Farms will be sending a Christmas basket to Gracie on Monday, December 19th. If you would like to add a note of appreciation or a note to Gracie or horse treats or even some cat treats to the package, please drop your items off at THE FARM before the 19th. I will be sure to send a special note to Louise, Gracie's sponsor, and to the owners of the facility, Dale and Shelby. And, of course, a note of thanks to Auntie Trish.

And if you would like to mail something to the owners, to Ainsley, to Louise, to Trish, or to Gracie directly, just email me and I will forward you Gracie's "winter vacation home" address. Hah! Did you ever know a horse with a winter vacation home?

Merry Christmas, Little Gracie!

Enjoy the journey of each and every day,
Sandy and The Jealous Herd!