Sunday, April 12, 2009


Easter Sunday

It is Easter Sunday. A day of resurrections and new life. A day of new beginnings from what was old.

I am off to deliver The Old Coot to his new forever home and to bring two blind mares back here to be reborn before they, too, are fostered to new loving homes. I'll return this evening and tell you my impressions of this world of rescue and just how it is Easter here. Every single day.

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

Monday AM: Please forgive me for not getting this posted yesterday. It was 9:30pm before I came into the house last night after a day of re-homing The Old Coot and, truly, two resurrections.

The Old Coot had managed to worm his way in to my heart while he was here recovering. His stamina and ability to survive this past brutal winter without a source of water, shelter, or hay left me in complete awe of the little horse. And to also survive the passing of his companion in those hills caused my heart to break for him. And tears to roll for the one we could not reach in time.

The Old Coot's demeanor was quiet and withdrawn upon arrival. A gentle horse without an appetite and content to simply stand. And wait. For what I wasn't sure. Any attempts to entice him to eat or to interact with me failed miserably. This little horse was a puzzle.

Dr. Brian had the piece to the puzzle, however. His hunch about low blood counts proved true and after treatments to restore his red blood count, the little horse began to eat and even lift his ears if coaxed.

Soon, he was genuinely hungry and then a personality returned. This is the part that is the reward for the hard work! To see a personality erupt! To see a spark of playfulness. Or curiosity. Or even stubbornness makes it all worthwhile.

The Old Coot's weeks here also saw him win others over, as well. Many hands worked on his mane and tail and body that were all infested with burrs. Once free, his tail never laid flat again! He was an Arabian and proud of it!

Diane is his new owner and received him with all the love and understanding that a rescue Mom could ask for. She took him and introduced him to her cats and her goats and her pastures and her horses and her sheep and her chickens and her llamas. I told The Old Coot that he was now at Old McDonald's Farm and we all laughed. The animals are all well cared for and content and were most curious of this new little horse.

It was an hour that tore at my heart but as I hugged Diane, I told her I was grateful for her because you see, I loved this little horse. "Anyone other than you and I don't know if I could have let him go." Diane understood completely and gave me and The Old Coot a bit of time together. And then I turned and let him go.

His bellering could be heard out on the road as he became friends with his new pasture mates over the half-door. His stares at the llamas were postcard quality. And his interest in all of the "little ones" was comical. He was surrounded by life and will thrive there. This was a good placement. This was a life saved.

A short hour after leaving Diane's driveway and the truck pulled in to a farm with not such a happy ending. This farm is a mixture of old and lame and young and pregnant mares and stallions and concrete and barbed wire. There are literally animals everywhere. The little blind mare was what pulled me back in to this driveway.

My visit to her two weeks ago had found her in a stall in the basement of a dairy barn standing on six or so inches of wet manure. Her hay was urine soaked and she was frightened. Next to her and across the aisle from her were two large stallions. She sensed their presence and was terrified. With no place to go and no eyes to see, her instincts had her on guard and allowed no rest for her.

I spent time next to her and found her jumpy and defensive. Understandable. I whispered in her ear that I would be back for her and so I was. Baby Cakes was her name. We left that in the basement of that dairy barn, as well.

This little mare is in a box stall this morning and resting comfortably. She has eaten literally every morsel of the half bale of hay I left with her and has scoured the feeder for every possible crumb of feed. She is resting on her right side and did not jump when I touched her withers. She turned her head and instead, allowed me to scratch between her ears. Isn't it amazing what a sense of safety and security can do?

But in the stall next to her is the true rescue of the day.

My contact for the old blind mare was a kill buyer that I have known for years. Many have come here by the way of this man: Joseph, Hannah, RedMan, Beauty, Gracie, Chief, Miss Bette. When he calls there is usually a horse in tough shape on his mind. He has options for the horse, sure, but for some reason he calls and usually I respond.

Well, the call this time was for an Appaloosa mare that was blind. His options were limited for her since she could not be shipped North. I opted to accept her rather than to allow her to be shot.

But what was in the yard waiting for me was an emaciated, blind, crippled, stallion. But the old boy is beautiful. A big head with beautiful blue eyes and a bald face. He was a magnificent horse in his day.

Today, however, his is fading in front of me. He is hungry! But his teeth are so bad that he chews the hay and then lets the wad roll out of his mouth. How sad! To be hungry and want to eat but know that you cannot swallow the feed or you will choke. So, it is beet pulp, feed, and soaked hay cubes to the rescue. He licks his bucket clean and when he hears me come in the barn, he already turns to the corner where his feed bucket hangs.

Time will tell if he will survive. I have not found any manure yet and no sign of urine. I'm guessing everything he manages to get in his system is absorbed but there needs to be something passed. His call is mostly air but he does call. He is proud and he lifts his head and forces the air out of his lungs. He is missing someone that he that he has been separated from. He is gentle and loving and full of scars from the past few weeks of trailers and cattle prods and other horses pushing him around. But he, too, rests in the stall and sleeps. He, too, rests knowing that he is safe and secure.

And so yes, it was Easter Sunday yesterday. How appropriate. How very appropriate. To place The Old Coot in a new, loving home. To bring the old blind mare here for a search for her new loving home. And then to rescue the old dude from a certain painful and lingering death.

This necklace is one of my favorite pieces. I have never worn it as jewelry. Can't do that. But I look at it every day as I dress. It reminds me of Easter and hope. It is as important to my daily routine as the FAITH bucket is to me. This necklace was a gift to me from a Sister in Rescue.

She gave it to me and told me to hang on to it. Take it with me, if I must, on rescues. Let it work its powers by just being with me, she said. And she was right. There is power in this necklace.

First, it is a cross. And being raised in the Christian faith, I know the significance of the cross. I also think this cross tells me of the load we ask some of our "pets" to carry. Like The Old Coot and The Old Dude. How can we allow these creatures to just fade away from starvation and neglect? The pain they endure because we can't seem to be responsible...

The cross is even more meaningful when you realize it is a barb of barbed wire. Fence that we create to fence them in and then we forget them. Leave them to suffer while we go about our daily chores. Surrounded by our fence and not cared for us...

The cross.

Notice, though, that there are beads decorating the cross. These beads are the lives that are saved by a bit of effort and a little willingness to try to help. Like The Old Coot. A shining example of what this world of rescue is all about. A bit of patience and love. A bit of food and warm water. A bit of medical talent and medicine. From starvation comes a feisty little horse. From the cross comes a jewel.

But this necklace can hurt your hands if you squeeze it. The barbs will puncture your skin. And that, too, is on purpose. Because in all of this Easter there is also the loss of those we cannot reach. Or even those who come here that we cannot help. I, for one, will continue to work to bring jewels here for the beginning of their new life. And I will shower them with love and hugs and food and hay and water and medicine. And I will support them as they decide to fight or move on. And I will re-home them and I will help them cross. Whatever is their decision.

Yes, the barbs will hurt and yes, there will be tears. Yesterday was a perfect example. Tears of joy for The Old Coot as he stood and bellered in his new stall. And tears of sadness for the desperately weak one now safely laying in the straw. It was Easter Sunday yesterday. And how appropriate was our work on that day...

So yes, it is the season of Easter. Of spring and new life. Of life that went dormant and is now awakening to another season of growth. Of the old blind mare who now rests comfortably in the straw bedding and sleeps. And of The Old Dude who eats hungrily when given something his mouth can manage. These are the jewels that came to Refuge Farms this Easter.

So, I leave you this morning to go out and feed and hug the healthy ones. To medicate and feed the weaker ones. To shower them all with a heart bursting with appreciation for their fragility and their strength, all in the same skin. To be grateful for parents who rasied me to care. And to give of what I have so that the road for others may be a bit easier. To be grateful that my life has taken me here to this point. To have a life that is full of hard work and rewards - Easters every day.

And all the while, my barbed wire cross will hang in its place to remind me. That pain is part of this process. That the original cross brought tears of grief and joy. And that, every once in a while, if I work really hard, there will be a jewel.

Happy Easter, everyone. Pray for peace.

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

Sunday, April 05, 2009


Phoebe's First Visit

A Note from Sandy: Phoebe came to Refuge Farms through an email. Could she visit? She had owned horses in her previous life...just moving back to “the country” from Chicago...needing a horse fix...could she visit?

Something was different about her email. I could feel something in her words. Wasn’t sure what it was but it wasn’t the usual tone. And for me, it was very odd indeed. I sensed a spiritual soul on the end of that long, invisible wire. And this, of all things, from an email!

Her first visit here was on a glorious spring day when The Old Coot and Ole’ Man Cole and Spirit were our targets for grooming. Phoebe, indeed, was a horse woman and soon “fell right in”. But I was unaware of what her first visit meant to her until I read a blog she had written for her website. And upon reading her notes from that day, I asked Phoebe if we couldn’t publish her notes in the Refuge Farms blog, too.

The intent of her blog was to pitch the Refuge Farms Spring Bulb Sales to her viewers. And so, her story will lead you to her ptich for the Bulb Sales. But it is her story that tells our story. Phoebe says, after all, what it is that we are trying to do here. It’s that healing thing...for horses and Humans...

Refuge Farms: Where Miracles Happen Every Day

Sandy Gilbert was in the driveway greeting volunteers with smiles and hugs as they arrived. It was a beautiful early spring day in western Wisconsin, not a cloud in the sky, the warm glow of the sun taking the chill off the breeze that always seems to blow up on the hill—sometimes fiercely, Sandy said.

“Be sure to dress in layers,” she told me earlier that week, adding that the wind can cut through you.

Not on that picture-perfect Saturday afternoon, however. From the moment I stepped out of my car onto the gravel drive until I said my goodbyes several hours later, I basked in the warmth of not only the sunny day, but also the warmth and caring that seemed to seep out of Sandy’s pores — especially when she’s around the horses.

I Went for the Horses

The horses. That’s why I was there, to spend time with the horses. In fact, horses are why I pulled up stakes, packed my car, and made the journey from Chicago to these beautiful rolling hills. I hope to someday buy a little piece of land with a house, barn, and fenced pastures where I can stable a couple of horses, adopt rescue dogs and tend a little organic garden.

But that’s down the road a ways. In the meantime, when I heard about Refuge Farms, I knew it was a program I wanted to be involved in. Sandy rescues horses from any manner of neglect and abuse, trailers them to Refuge Farms, provides them a safe haven while healing their hurts, and helps to restore their trust in humans while giving them back their dignity. In some cases, she adopts them out to forever homes; in other cases, she promises them a safe place to live out the rest of their days. She adopted her first horse in 1978 and set up the sanctuary in 1993.

The day I visited, Refuge Farms was home to 18 horses, a friendly chocolate lab rescue dog named Little Man, and at least three cats. After attending a volunteer meeting, I high-tailed it to the barn and helped Sandy bring in a quiet sorrel gelding from the paddock so another volunteer and I could brush out his winter coat and de-tangle his tail, which was a solid mass of burrs from end to end.

One Sad Story Among Many

It was love at first sight. The Old Coot, as he is affectionately called, was a fairly recent rescue. The story I heard from Pam W., one of the volunteers I worked with, was that The Coot and another old horse had been left behind last August when the family moved away. They were abandoned in a barren pasture with no access to water. Sandy found out about him and picked him up in February. Left to forage on their own for almost 6 months and during an especially brutal winter, The Old Coot’s pasture-mate had succumbed to the harsh conditions and lack of food and adequate water by the time Sandy got there.

The Old Coot was underweight when he arrived at THE FARM, Sandy said. As with all her rescues, a vet came out to the farm to give him a physical, de-worm him, and fix whatever might have been physically wrong with him. Pam told me his teeth were floated, which, for non-horse people, means they are filed down so the animal can chew comfortably and to prevent the horse from getting sores inside of its mouth. It was during this procedure that the vet estimated The Old Coot to be between 25 and 30 years old. (Sandy found out later from the owner that he was actually 32!).

Then the farrier came to trim his overgrown hooves. There’s a story on the Refuge Farms website about a horse named Sweet Lady Grey who was brought in totally mistrustful of people and with feet so neglected, the poor animal’s hooves had grown over and around the horseshoes on her front feet. The farrier discovered them after carefully whittling away at one of her grossly overgrown front hooves with a hoof knife, because he couldn’t cut them with the clippers. The Old Coot’s feet were in fairly bad shape, but not nearly as bad as Lady Grey’s.

A Day at ‘The Spa’ for The Old Coot

By the time I showed up on horse-brushing day, The Old Coot had put on weight and lost the distended malnourishment belly. He was a perfect gentleman the entire time we worked on him. We spent a good couple of hours brushing, stroking and talking to The Coot. You could tell he reveled in the attention — even though someone was pulling at his tail almost the entire time to get the burrs out.

You only have to look in a horse’s eyes once to know they have a soul. When The Coot and I gazed at each other, I saw a creature that had finally come home after a long, rough journey. Hearing his story reminded me of the childhood classic Black Beauty. After bouncing around from owner to owner, enduring abuse and neglect from careless, ignorant, and sometimes mean, people for many years, Beauty found his way back into the life of a man who knew Beauty when the horse was young and vigorous. He was a good, kind man who put the old horse out to pasture to spend his remaining days in peace, cared for and knowing he was loved.

Sandy’s Promises to Her ‘Kids’

That’s what The Old Coot reminded me of. It made me tear up to think of this calm, beautiful animal with deep brown eyes left to starve to death in the cold. Spending the afternoon with Sandy’s animals really brought it home for me how important her work is. She provides the space, care, time and love for the lost, abandoned, often less-than-perfect animals that find their way ‘home’ to Refuge Farms. Before leaving that afternoon, I told Sandy repeatedly I wanted to help in any way I could to realize Refuge Farms’ mission - the three promises she makes to every animal that comes under her care:

1. There will be no more beatings, electricity, use of performance enhancing drugs, hollering, or any other type of inhumane treatment. There will be plenty of respect.
2. There will be no more hunger. There will always be food and water available.
3. There will be no more moving to another farm, fighting for a place in a new herd, or getting used to another routine or the taste of other water. This is home. Forever. Even in death you will not leave THE FARM.

For more than 15 years Sandy has dedicated her life to helping those who cannot help themselves.

The Old Coot Feels Like a New Horse!

I could tell The Coot was tired of being groomed and wanted to return to the paddock and to his buddy, Angel, a beautiful Arab mare given up by her humans to make room for younger horses. So, I unhooked The Old Coot and led him outside; one of the other volunteers opened the gate and kept the other horse from getting out of the paddock.

After I took off The Coot’s halter inside the paddock, the most amazing thing happened. That Old Coot literally kicked up his heels and started tearing around the corral like a colt! I was safely outside the gate when he came to a screeching halt right in front of me. He looked at me with a knowing eye and, like a horse half his age, spun around, did a little half kick with his rear legs and took off again at a dead gallop around the paddock, once again careening to a stop within 10 feet from where we were standing.

Everyday Miracles at Refuge Farms

While The Coot was displaying his hard-won exuberance, I heard a whoop from near the house. Sandy was chatting with a group of visitors and saw the whole thing. The Old Coot was recovered. Yet again, Sandy had taken an animal near death and nursed him back to health to where he could love life again! I was laughing while tears streaked down my cheeks, watching The Old Coot come to realize he was feeling like himself again. Sandy writes on her Web site about the magic that happens at Refuge Farms and I knew in that moment I had the privilege of getting a little glimpse of just what she was talking about.

I walked back to the barn with a warm glow and helped brush a couple of other horses and talked to some of the volunteers. I heard horrific stories about where some of these animals had come from. I found it hard to believe that these calm, quiet, majestic beasts that were the picture of good health had come from such horrible places and circumstances. Some were more damaged than others and it is clear from the stories on the Refuge Farms’ Web site that it took some members of the herd longer than others to heal. But in the end, they healed as best they could and had Sandy - and the generous donations of others - to thank for it.

All in all, it was an amazing afternoon. I knew I would be back. I suspect Refuge Farms will become my new church; I could definitely feel a strong Presence the entire time I was there.

With the calamity going on in the world today, if you ever lose faith or begin to doubt that miracles happen, spend an afternoon at Refuge Farms in Spring Valley, WI, and I guarantee any doubt will be removed forever.

You can help too! If you buy spring bulbs before April 30, 45 percent to 50 percent of your purchase goes directly to Refuge Farms! They've made it as easy as possible to purchase beautiful flowers for your garden while helping a great organization do good work. Email THE FARM at to receive brochures and order forms.

Calling All Gardeners: Buy Bulbs and Help Refuge Farms Make Hay

When I learned that Refuge Farms has an arrangement with several well-known nurseries for fundraising purposes, I jumped at the chance to help. It’s really a no-brainer.

When you order a carefully selected group of bulbs from Van Bourgondien or Breck’s, or plants, shrubs or trees from Spring Hill, between 45 percent and 50 percent of your order is donated to Refuge Farms to help pay for hay.

It’s Really Easy

Email THE FARM at to receive the brochures and order forms. Then you can view the brochures and see what’s available from each of these nurseries. (Sandy says the bulbs from Van Bourgondien are HUGE.) Please note that anything you order comes with a guarantee. If what you order fails to grow or satisfy, the companies will replace with another or the same product.

Once you have decided what you want, print out the respective order forms, fill them out, add it up, write a check, payable to “Refuge Farms”, put the filled-out order form and check in an envelope and mail it out Refuge Farms. Done! Van Bourgondien donates 50 percent of each sale to Refuge Farms; Breck’s and Spring Hill each donate 45 percent

Here Are the Details

Deadline for orders is April 30, 2009. But please try to get your order in the mail before then. What happens is once all the orders are received at Refuge Farms, one gigantic order is created for each company and sent out. Breck’s and Spring Hill will ship directly to you. Van Bourgondien ships to Refuge Farms and yours truly and a host of other volunteers will break the ginormous shipment into individual shipments. Sandy says once the order is received at the farm the turnaround is less than 24 hours.

No P.O. boxes. Neither Spring Hill nor Breck’s will ship to P.O. boxes.

Mailing address

Send your filled-out order form and check to:
Refuge Farms
P.O. Box 195
Spring Valley, WI 54767

My Final Pitch

This is a great opportunity to have products that you’re going to purchase anyways benefit such a worthy cause. Refuge Farms is a pretty special place. And it relies entirely on donations and fundraising activities like this to keep it going. Get a brochure and get started. I know you will feel better when you do.

On behalf of Sandy and The Herd, thank you for your support.

Note: For more information about the amazing work Sandy Gilbert and an army of volunteers do at Refuge Farms, go to their Web site:

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