Refuge Farms (www.refugefarms.org)

It was ten days after her crossing. My eyes still overflowed just at the thought of her. Just at walking in the barn. Just at feeling the southern breezes. Just at the sight of her halter. Where she used to eat. Where she used to lie in the pasture. Miss Bonita had crossed and I was experiencing sincere and heart breaking grief.

But The Herd needed hay and so the tractor was started and bales were moved. Difficult with the equipment that we have. The bales are lifted only inches from the ground. Sometimes they drag the entire way to the pasture leaving parts of bale all along the route. Sometimes I need to haul them in reverse so they are “pushed” in to the pasture otherwise they will not stay on the bale mover. Usually, we use big logging chains to tie them on like big bungies – only much, much heavier.

Today, as I moved this particular bale, Kathy and Tara were walking behind the tractor ready to push the bale and hold it on the bale mover in case I hit a rut or something to cause the bale to start to slip off. And as I inched forward in the pasture, my eyes were glued to the bottom of the bale and the ground immediately behind the tractor. Just watching for any sign of slippage.

And there it was.

On top of the earth.

In plain sight.

Miss Bonita’s shoe.

Last summer, Miss Bonita had thrown a shoe. We had walked the entire pasture – twice - in a big human chain with not ten feet between us looking for that shoe. When we didn’t find it, Cathi and Sabra bought THE FARM a metal detector. Suzie the Gardener, Cathi, and I spent hours searching the pasture for that shoe! And it was never found. We finally concluded it was buried somewhere in the wet under the round bales. Because we knew that shoe sure wasn’t in the pasture anywhere!

And now here it was. Right in plain view. And surprisingly, not all rusty and full of muck as it should have been after a summer and a fall and a winter out in the weather and with horses all over it! No, in fact, it was clean. Too clean. The carbide on it was still shiney. Huh. My conclusion was swift and intensely obvious to me:

Miss Bonita had thrown her shoe out so that we would find it. Miss Bonita was trying to reach me and tell me, “It’s okay. I’m okay. Please don’t be wrapped up in regrets or sorrow. Celebrate my presence. And prepare! Prepare for a new one!”

I kept telling Tara and Kathy, “She’s here! She’s here! And they’re all here if she’s here!”

The shoe – Miss Bonita’s shoe – now sits on my would-be mantle. I see it every day many times on my many trips up or downstairs. And when I see it, now I smile. She is here. I know it. And yes, we did prepare. And yes, a new one came. Within a matter of hours, our Addie-Girl joined us. With the eyes of wisdom. With the patience of Job. And with needs that we can support. Someone new to love. Someone new to see. And here with Miss Bonita’s guidance, I know it.

You see, I didn’t drop the trailer and go find Addie-Girl or even pick her up! A first for Refuge Farms! Addie-Girl came to us. A most kind and caring family in Northern Wisconsin sent a simple email to Refuge Farms. A horse they knew and loved was looking poorly and the owner had agreed to let them take the horse if they could find someone to take her. He just didn’t want any calls from agencies or the police. The horse was sickly and no money was available to put in to her to fix whatever it was that was starving her down.

But how did that family find us way down here? In her caring, Dianne went to the Internet and searched for Wisconsin horse rescues. There we were. That fact alone is MAGIC to me. Our Vincent, way down in Louisiana, is saving horses. And healing Humans. This website reaches people and because of this website, Dianne found us and sent a simple email. Could we take her? She was a very good horse. And she and her husband would even bring her to us…. Could we take her?

With fingers that were not my own, I keyed a prompt response back. Yes. We would take her. Who was that keying the response? Not me. I’m usually most hesitant and must validate the horse is out of options. But something told me this horse was. Something told me to move swiftly before the owner changed his mind. Totally out of character, I accepted a horse by email.


A mere few hours later, Dianne and Andrew pulled in the driveway on that March day full of heavy, cold rains. In the trailer was a horse, I thought, that I would foster. A Percheron, they said. A younger mare. Andrew went in the trailer to bring her out. “Do you mind,” I asked, “if I come in the trailer with you before she comes out?” My eyes saw the hip bones and the spine and the saggy skin and those very sad eyes. I began with, “Addie, I have a few things to tell you. They are The Three Promises….”

So, some big doors have closed. A bit. Not completely. I think it’s better to say that chapters have been written. The book is still being created. For sure. And in her way, Miss Bonita has told me – told all of us – that it’s okay. Smile. Remember. And continue the works. Because there are so many that we can support and help heal. Open your arms and hug them as they come to visit. Open the barns and shelter them for a while. Give. Even through the tears. It always, always comes back to you. Horses and Humans. Any that will come. Love them all. And remember with smiles and celebration.

Thank you, my dear Miss Bonita.

Enjoy the journey of each and every day,
Sandy and The Herd and now, Addie-Girl