Refuge Farms (www.refugefarms.org)

Those of you that know me at all, know that I am a fan of Don Henley. His music seems to somehow reach right inside of my chest and express those feelings that are sometimes trapped way in there.

Well, the latest Eagles CD has a Don Henley song on it entitled, "Do Something". Here's a bit of it:

"But when I feel like giving up and I'm ready to walk away - in the stillness I can hear a voice inside me say, Do Something. Do Something. No, it's never too late. Don't just stand there takin' up space. Do Something."

And if you know me at all, you also know the Holiday Season is a most difficult one for me. It's all tied up in loss of family and with no immediate family on those special days, and the loss of some remarkable creatures on Thanksgiving Eve and right around Christmas. Even though I am surrounded by many who truly care, there is a void and I sometimes have trouble with it.

Several years ago I made a telephone call and bothered a kill buyer on Thanksgiving Day. I interrupted his holiday because all I could hear in my ears was my Mom's words telling me that when I felt the worst inside, I just needed to reach outside and do something outside of myself. Then I would feel better inside.

So on that particular Thanksgiving Day, I called and I traveled the two hours and brought home a sweating, pain-riddled mare we came to love as Miss Bonita. She healed me that day and I am eternally grateful. I will never forget her graciousness for that.

Later on in my life on a sunny, warm Thanksgiving Eve I held my Jerry's huge head as he looked me in the eye and traveled on without me. Thanksgiving Eve has never been the same since.

Soon thereafter, on December 23rd, big, gentle, kind, unassuming DukeDuke took that same journey and was happy to leave his hurting body behind. Richard arrived two years later on the same date that DukeDuke had crossed.

And glorious, playful Big Guy arrived the week of Thanksgiving. On a stroke of sheer luck that I was near the telephone and able to answer it when it rang. Meant to be, he was. Meant to be.

So you see, my heart is a bit uneasy during this season. Scared and worried. And trying so hard to find the joy of the season! So hard! And this year, I followed the advice of my Mom and Don Henley and I did something.

His new name is Handsome. A big belgian gelding with a history of horse pulling, being shrunk down to try to fit in the middle-weight class, years of plow work, and again back as a pulling horse. Gentle in spirit and big in body, he is carrying his baggage well and is a very social animal.

Last week I told you I could feel another one coming. Personally, I thought it was maybe me just hoping, actually. Wishing. But I put it out there and I even dropped the trailer a couple of times because I could feel, I thought, the new one on its way. Monday night the telephone rang. It was a horse puller that I had rescued horses from in the past. Horses in not very good shape. Horses that were helped on to their next lives after I had exhausted all the possible treatments for their injuries. Injuries that had never been treated. Ever.

Handsome is no different. He has an injury - not life threatening, I don't think - but an untreated injury just the same. His left eye is pretty much laying on his cheek. Untreated for several years, it is infected and smelly and oozing, but he manages to function all the same. I need to warn you that the sight and the smell is difficult for even the toughest of stomachs to endure. Be warned. But love him all the same.

The options for Handsome were simple - back to years in the plow with an untreated eye or I could come and get him. I drove to the familiar pasture and even I was taken aback when I approached the big framed horse. Even I was swallowing a bit rough at the sight and the smell of it. But I found his good eye and we talked for a bit. Yes, he would love to play with the mares. Love to really go anywhere other than back in the plow, please.

The men surrounded us as we walked to the trailer. He had a history of just dragging people around, they said. I walked with him a bit and then he dragged me around for a while. Finally, I stopped with him and we talked again. We talked about pride and showing off and being bigger than any of those around us. We talked about being connected and allowing me to load him so I could treat his eye and feed him. And bring him to the mares. We took it slowly, but he loaded. Step by step. Without the chains and without the ropes and the assistance that was offered. He loaded and I unhooked his lead rope to let him stand in the trailer. I was so proud of him I could barely keep myself contained!

Once here, he is in the corral until Dr. Brian can tell me if there is anything in his eye that may be contagious to the others. If not, he will be introduced to his girls and we'll work on getting that eye treated. And getting some of that huge frame filled out. He is full of burrs and his teeth are bad. Needs shots and deworming. But more than anything, he needs consistent kindness and care.

So I did something. I did something for myself and I tried to fill the hole from Jerry and Richard and DukeDuke and Big Guy and Miss Bonita. I did something. And I am glad. Thanks, Mr. Henley. And thanks, Mom. Thanks to both of you for encouraging and guiding me to reach outside to heal the inside.

"Do Something. Do Something. Don't leave it up to someone else and don't feel sorry for yourself. Do Something. Do Something. No, it's never too late. On your honor, on your pride - you'll sleep better knowing you tried. Do Something."

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

An Update on 11/24/07 -

Dr. Brian was at THE FARM yesterday to perform an initial exam of Handsome, his eye, and start the vaccinations. "Oh my, that's quite a sight," this kind man said upon going to the "bad" side of Handsome's head.

Our plan is this: We will work on getting Handsome familiar with and comfortable in the shoeing bed (he needs to be in there anyhow to get his feet worked on) and when that is accomplished, Dr. Brian will return and we will sedate Handsome so we can biopsy that "thing" over his eye. And there are injections that we may attempt to cause the "thing" to die and shrink. Initial thoughts are that "thing" is some type of a tumor. And there is hope - slim, although it is - that there may be an eye under that tumor! I had assumed the eye was bad, but Dr. Brian says he has seen tumors removed and eyes still there...hhhmmmm. Anyhow, Handsome does not appear to be contagious, so he is out with his women and Josephina is standing guard over him like a lioness. This is her man. End of story.

We'll work on leading and access to the shoeing bed. Deworm him and give him his booster shots. Cute of Dr. Brian. When he gave him his shots, Handsome hardly flinched. "You're so big you don't even feel that, do you?" Dr. Brian said to him. I enjoy Dr. Brian and his willingness to love and care for anything we bring him. Good man and a good horse. I am pleased that Handsome has joined us. You will love him, too. He's a giant in all aspects. I am grateful once again.