This blog is about a Damsel in Distress, a Hero, a group of Evil Villains, and a reluctant lady with lots of lists. A classic tale that I can only hope will have a fairy tale ending.
This blog is about Sam. Samantha, Sammie.
And now a warning. If you are particularly sensitive to photos of abused animals, this blog may not be for you. It will make you cry, and maybe haunt your memory. I am sensitive to this too, and knowing I am not the only one, I have made sure to show you the positive work that is being done, so perhaps you can still read on. Also, I will not put those photos in the middle of the blog, they will all be at the end, separated. But, I know this blog has value. For my 4-H kids, for my Pony Club kids, for my horse friends, for my animal loving friends. Because, some people are not fit to care for an animal, whether it be ignorance, sloth, finance or pure evil. And, sometimes you are the one who has to pick up the pieces.
Some of you will remember Sam. Here is some photos of her when she was living with me.
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| Youngest, getting a riding lesson when his legs were so short the stirrups were irrelevant. ADORABLE. That is his Aunt Steph giving him the lesson, by the way. |
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| Sammie at a horse event, falling a bit asleep on the trailer. |
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| Sammie and I completing a dressage test at a schooling show. |
Sammie has never actually been mine. I rode her and cared for her for years, all while she belonged to my young friend, K. Sam had been purchased for K. and they were not a match, yet. Sammie was a bit too wild, strong willed, and energetic for K. But, Sam and I got on well. I rode her through some tumultuous moments in the first few months, but eventually we settled into a nice time, with wonderful, long, fast trail rides, excellent control and enjoyment on the Hunt, and some decent basic dressage. She had a hard time picking up her shoulder into a canter, so I taught her to jump, and she loved it. But, she was a bit small for me, and I wanted to have my own horse again, so, she bounced around for a while. She evented in Dayton, she fox hunted in Huber Heights, and eventually she came back to my friend, K. A well seasoned and sweet mare. But, K. didn't have time to ride her. She was finishing college, starting her working life, and when a local teen girl and her family wanted to have Sammie, K. agreed.
It seemed to be a match this time. Instagram posts of the two having grand times in their new life together. Standing on Sammie's saddle, like a trick rider; barrel racing; small child having a pony ride.
But at some point things changed. This is where the Evil Villains enter stage left. And let it be a lesson that you don't know people, really know them, unless- you do. I have heard people say "It can't be insert name of girl who starved Sammie here , she is a really nice girl." Well, she isn't. She may be an FFA Officer, she may be a "horse person", she may be friendly, or pretty, or whatever. Here is what I know. She and her family willfully starved this horse.
Is it ignorance? Sloth? Mental illness? Evil? I will never know, or understand. But it is certainly neglect, and abuse. I estimate sometime in November they stopped feeding Sam. And, probably before that stopped caring for her with grooming and attention. She was kept in a stall, inside a barn, not visible to passerby, a Damsel in Distress, kept in a small room, and starved, nearly to death.
Enter the Hero.
This is a young girl, whose farm is near where Sammie was kept. She is both one of my 4-H kids, and one of my Pony Club kids, so I know she knows a lot about horses. But, she is young, she is a bit dramatic, and who has time for saving Damsels? So, when our Hero told me she had seen Sam, and she was in bad shape, I thought "Crud. Am I going to have to Do Something?" But, what? I'm not the kind of person, veterinarian, who goes around telling people, who don't ask, what to do with their animals. There are boundaries. There are other adults around, why me? Maybe she's just winter fuzzy and a bit un-muscular. Still our Hero had taken a photo. We were driving back from a competition, so I had eyes on the road, but she showed the photo to another Hero, who told me "YOU need to Do Something. As in 'go get her.'"Sigh. How do you just walk into someone's barn and take their horse. That isn't legal.
So, I decided to send out some investigation feelers on how it could be done. K. contacted them and said she heard Sam wasn't doing very well, did they need help? Did they need to give her back? This served only to tip them off that folks were sniffing around. And, in an apparent moment of realization that they had deeply abused the horse, started feeding her grain and high fat supplements. (Which, is a very dangerous thing to do to a starved horse!) They (lied) said that a vet had come to look at her ("His name was Lou." They don't remember his last name). And that "some horses have a hard time keeping their weight over the winter."
But, about a week later, our Hero - vigilant and stubborn, standing up to a girl who had been her friend, and pushing reluctant adults (me), texts me. It is Mother's Day. I have all my children at home. We have had a lovely day working in the garden (that list is very long). They had made me a cake. It was time to start preparing our dinner together. But, our Hero pointed out that for the first time since last year, the horse was out of the barn. They had turned our Damsel out on a green pasture. Horse friends will cringe. We know that you cannot just turn a horse, even a healthy one, out on green spring pastures without slow acclimation. If done, you have a high risk of colic, and founder.
Bad Stuff.
So, though reluctant, I put on my Adulting Britches, and had K. let them know we were on our way to get her. They were surprisingly amenable to the idea, with little push back. I hooked up the trailer and off we went, K. and I, not knowing exactly what we would find, but committed. The farm is not far from us, maybe two miles, and when I drove in, my brain struggled a moment. I saw Sam, or what I assumed was Sam by the general color, tied to a grain trailer. Her head was too big. I saw two people washing her, I saw the hose, and the pink sprayer, but I couldn't breathe. My lungs didn't want to work, just shallow fish gasping, tears springing...
So, as my brain tends to do, I stopped thinking about what I was seeing and started thinking about what needed to be done in each second. Turn trailer around to face road. Send K. to collect horse, yell at people "Stop bathing her, she is just getting cold" as she trembled in the cold hose water. As if dirt was the problem. Not looking at Sam. Not looking at the people. Just sign the paper, you no longer have any claim, so I can load her. She docilely walked next to me, into the trailer, head low, knees nearly rubbing. Clip her head to the tie. Close the divider, close the trailer. Don't speak. Don't cry. Don't throw up. Drive slowly so she doesn't fall.
Unload her, get her a blanket, she's freezing.
Figure out how to save her.
Let me point out here that veterinarians don't necessarily deal with starved horses in our daily rounds. People who have a veterinarian, and do regular veterinary care don't starve their animals. It is the Animal Control, Animal Cruelty Officers and rescues who are the ones in whose lap these cases land. I knew I couldn't start just feeding her. But what exactly is the protocol to not kill her with kindness?
Starved horses suffer from "Refeeding Syndrome" if given too many calories to quickly, and this can be deadly. Fortunately, even though it is Mother's Day, I am blessed with lots of friends who are ready to help and with short notice, I had some great advice coming in from people who heard about Sam and were ready with a plan on how to proceed. Soon, I also had an experienced veterinarian from the OSU Vet School also chiming in. The best materials were gathered by friends near and far, and the daily texts checking in on Sam by a group of supportive friends.
She has started on the long road to recovery.
Mother's Day night I spent hours with a glove, moving one part of the blanket at a time and softly rubbing her body. Anything else would be painful, and the rubbing gave her circulation, and care. She could barely eat, weakness, and likely colic from the green grass had her picking at a bit of hay, then standing quietly for about 20 minutes before trying to eat a bit again. Zac, our borrowed Haflinger (and saintly pony) was very encouraging, calling to her, and hanging over the fence for moral support. Each time he would call to her, she would try, again, to eat a bit. Her coat came off in my hands, leaving large bald patches behind. But, she looked a bit brighter, and lifted her head a bit more, and her ears fell forward with pleasure.
It has been one week. She looks much better, she feels good, calling to me when I enter the barn, relishing her grooming time, even getting sassy enough to try and push open her stall door. Her bloodwork looks like that of a starved horse in recovery, and I am hoping for those measures to continue to improve as she does.
Will she ever be "back to normal?" I don't know. Since her body used all her fat and most of her muscle to help her survive, there may be permanent effects to her heart (muscle) and intestine (also muscle). She may have problems with digestion forever, and mentally, who knows? Certainly, I think she will feel "food insecure" if not for the rest of her life, at least for a long while.
My mom asked me if I think horses can feel "hope."
It is a good question. I know they anticipate. They ask for you to come ride them, or feed them, or groom them by nickering or plain old yelling. Is that hope? When they see the trailer getting hooked up they get excited about going somewhere. Is that hope? And when Sammie stumbled off the trailer, back at Cowfeathers after all that time, she did change in that minute. She looked like she had hope. In any case, she has K. She has me. She has Cowfeathers, and she has a chance.
Now, for Photos. Final warning.
Space, in case you didn't want to see them.
This is the first evening, after getting her off the trailer, and into a stall with paddock. After spending some time crying. We removed her blanket so we could take some photos. But she remains blanketed to this very moment, waiting for her body to be able to stay warm, or for Mother Nature to give an assist.
One week later. Seven days of careful feeding and careful grooming. Of time spent holding up her head, because she wanted me to. Of counting her poops and pees, of telling her, everyday, she's going to be okay.
Again, we removed her blanket for the photos, but it was too cold and windy to take them outside. Note in the last photo, K. is wearing Carhartt bib coveralls and her winter coat. It was /is too cold!
It will take months before she looks truly "good", but I know just one week later she looks better. Loved.
"C'est le temps que tu as perdu pour ta rose qui fait ta rose si importante."
"It is the time you spend on your rose that makes your rose so important."
Antoine de Saint-Exupery from Le Petit Prince.
- Continue to photograph the progress of Samantha
- Share on Cowfeathers Farm blog
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