http://umaine.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2011501&l=9441e&id=151200584
and the old:
http://umaine.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2011373&l=0d69a&id=151200584
http://umaine.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2011272&l=a16e4&id=151200584
Thursday, May 31, 2007
one week down
So it's been a week now since I wrote last. I've dived headfirst into every task I 've been given and, out of necessity, I've learned a lot very quickly. Two days after my last entry Adam and Claudia left for about a week. They're due back sometime this weekend. This meant that during the week it was Barbara, Esteban, Diana, and myself that worked, and on the weekend it was up to just Barbara and me to keep things running. I've gotten the feeding schedule of who gets what and when down. I'm also learning the art that is loading and tossing bales of hay. Each morning and evening we load 29 bales on the open trailer connected to the pickup and we disperse them accordingly around the grounds. Since Barbara and I have been the only two working in the evenings I've had the pleasure of both helping drive the pickup, as well as be the one who tosses the 120 lb. bales. Personally, I prefer the latter of the two roles as every dog here seems to have a death wish and enjoys running practically under the truck tires giving me a slight anxiety attack.
Aside from getting a handle on the normal day to day requirements I also helped Barbara with some "projects" this weekend. We made a 24 foot wide wire gate to close a hole in the fence dividing our property and that of our neighbors. Luckily we opted not to go with barbed wire as I fear that probably would not have bode well for me. We also built a step for the generator room, a task which involved the use of a hammer, nails, and power tools (hope you're busting with pride, Dad).
In the past week we've gotten some new residents as well! First we received three mustang mares. They were rounded up a few years back and a horse rescue group offered to take them to try to domesticate them and adopt them out, but apparently these three simply wouldn't hear of it (which frankly, I was happy about). They've gotten to be too much for the rescue group to handle so we said we'd take them. We took them straight across the street and released them on the 800 acres. It was really cool to see them run. What was not really cool was the two ladies getting their truck and horse trailer stuck on the dirt road across the street. We tried to use our truck and ultimately had to go get the tractor to pull them out. We released the horses at 7:30 pm. It was 11 pm before we got back to the house. Fun fun.
Our newest arrival is Joe, a 25 yr old Paint who was the horse of an old cowboy that just passed away. The cowboy's son and a couple friends asked us to take Joe in. He's been a bit crazy since he got here and we later found out why - the poor horse had been kept in the same pen for 24 years, being let out only when taken for a ride (but who knows how often that really was). So here he is for the first time in 24 years out in a new place and surrounded by a good 100+ females. He's kinda lost his mind.
A funny note relating to Joe - and a little food for thought - one of the people who brought Joe to us was a lady that was friends with the son of the cowboy. They all talked about how Joe was this old cowboy's "baby" and how they loved Joe so much and he was a sweet horse and they were so glad we could take him because they would hate to have to put him to sleep, but there would have been no other options! Barb gets an email from this lady later. In it she says she just wanted to check on Joe, and she also mentioned that they used to breed Joe and if we decide to breed him she wouldn't mind taking a colt. A couple thoughts came to mind when Barb told me this: 1) we're a sanctuary. we take in and care for horses that people don't want, we don't breed horses to feed back into situations we're trying to save them from, and 2) I realized (and got very angry after realizing) that this woman is asking us for a colt after she just dropped off a horse that she "loves" and "couldn't bear the thought of putting him to sleep" because they couldn't care for him. So apparently she has the means to care for a young horse, but not for an old horse that can no longer be ridden and thus "serves no purpose." I mentioned this to Barbara and it got her fired up too. Apparently whenever Barbara is asked to give lectures she talks about the problems of our "disposable culture" - this situation with Joe being a perfect example. We're a society where once a living thing stops being useful to us, it's tossed without a second thought. I was shocked by the woman's own inability to recognize how contradicting her statement was, but it's just a testimony of the societal mindset in general I guess. Just a little tidbit to think on.
Aside from getting a handle on the normal day to day requirements I also helped Barbara with some "projects" this weekend. We made a 24 foot wide wire gate to close a hole in the fence dividing our property and that of our neighbors. Luckily we opted not to go with barbed wire as I fear that probably would not have bode well for me. We also built a step for the generator room, a task which involved the use of a hammer, nails, and power tools (hope you're busting with pride, Dad).
In the past week we've gotten some new residents as well! First we received three mustang mares. They were rounded up a few years back and a horse rescue group offered to take them to try to domesticate them and adopt them out, but apparently these three simply wouldn't hear of it (which frankly, I was happy about). They've gotten to be too much for the rescue group to handle so we said we'd take them. We took them straight across the street and released them on the 800 acres. It was really cool to see them run. What was not really cool was the two ladies getting their truck and horse trailer stuck on the dirt road across the street. We tried to use our truck and ultimately had to go get the tractor to pull them out. We released the horses at 7:30 pm. It was 11 pm before we got back to the house. Fun fun.
Our newest arrival is Joe, a 25 yr old Paint who was the horse of an old cowboy that just passed away. The cowboy's son and a couple friends asked us to take Joe in. He's been a bit crazy since he got here and we later found out why - the poor horse had been kept in the same pen for 24 years, being let out only when taken for a ride (but who knows how often that really was). So here he is for the first time in 24 years out in a new place and surrounded by a good 100+ females. He's kinda lost his mind.
A funny note relating to Joe - and a little food for thought - one of the people who brought Joe to us was a lady that was friends with the son of the cowboy. They all talked about how Joe was this old cowboy's "baby" and how they loved Joe so much and he was a sweet horse and they were so glad we could take him because they would hate to have to put him to sleep, but there would have been no other options! Barb gets an email from this lady later. In it she says she just wanted to check on Joe, and she also mentioned that they used to breed Joe and if we decide to breed him she wouldn't mind taking a colt. A couple thoughts came to mind when Barb told me this: 1) we're a sanctuary. we take in and care for horses that people don't want, we don't breed horses to feed back into situations we're trying to save them from, and 2) I realized (and got very angry after realizing) that this woman is asking us for a colt after she just dropped off a horse that she "loves" and "couldn't bear the thought of putting him to sleep" because they couldn't care for him. So apparently she has the means to care for a young horse, but not for an old horse that can no longer be ridden and thus "serves no purpose." I mentioned this to Barbara and it got her fired up too. Apparently whenever Barbara is asked to give lectures she talks about the problems of our "disposable culture" - this situation with Joe being a perfect example. We're a society where once a living thing stops being useful to us, it's tossed without a second thought. I was shocked by the woman's own inability to recognize how contradicting her statement was, but it's just a testimony of the societal mindset in general I guess. Just a little tidbit to think on.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
the first official day
Today was my first official day of work. I got up at quarter til 8, double layered my hoodies, put on my jeans, boots and work gloves and followed Claudia down to the barn. I'll be her constant shadow for the next two days. It was cold this morning, with a bit of a breeze, but the way that the sun hit the hills through the holes in the clouds made bearing the cool weather well worth it if only to have that view. Claudia instructed me in feeding the older horses and which ones require water in their Senior so to make it easier to chew. It looks as though we spend most of our time working with the older horses, which makes sense as they require a great deal more care than the rest. The mustangs are pretty much self-sufficient, needing only for hay to be tossed their way and that their water buckets be checked daily. The younger domestics are similar.
It is at this time that I think I will take a moment to introduce you all to the horses whose names I have learned thus far. There are about 200 horses on the sanctuary grounds, plus the 12 new mustang foals, so I don’t expect to learn the names of them all, or even half, but I’m told there are several horses, primarily due to their pestering, that I will grow to know quite well. First, I have already introduced you to Annie, the ancient thoroughbred who is perhaps the most docile horse in the park and a particular favorite of Claudia. Her other favorite, Rio, you’ve also met - the former champion thoroughbred who seems to think he’s a bit too good for the rest of the horses here and tends to be a loner, but at the same time feels the need to observe your every action. Then there’s Memphis, the beast of a horse that I got to ride bareback. There’s Jelly, an incredibly sweet and aging white Arabian who has melanoma on her jaw. Cloudy, a gorgeous cream colored Arabian who has only one eye. He’s constantly followed by who everyone simply calls “Claudie’s girlfriend,” a bay colored horse that I’ve settled on calling either “Nuzzle” or “Nudge” depending on whether I decide her tendency to rub her head against me is an act of affection or a demand that I move out of her way. That determination will come with time. There is also Derby, a gorgeous horse whose breed I don’t know but he is what they call a “white” because he is pure white with blue eyes. He apparently loves people and was one of the domestics that introduced himself to Lauren and myself on our first day here. He is also apparently at the top of the pecking order amongst the domestics. Let’s see, there’s Rosie and Georgie, a mother-son pair that though separated by the colts being grouped together in a corral, are normally found side by side, Rosie outside the gate and Georgie just on the other side. Lucy and Lady are two elder reds that I’ve met. Sierra is a bay-colored saddlebred known as the “baby stealer” since she apparently tries to take any young foals that are born on the ranch away from their mothers and raise them as her own. There’s also “the witch” a white horse with brown speckles whose actual name seems to be unknown, but who was banned from the barn since she apparently beat up on the other old horses regularly. She spends most of her time now sadly hanging around the gate to the barn, not quite understanding why she’s not allowed back in. There are two gorgeous Paints, mother and daughter, one brown, one black, who apparently were great riding horses, but contracted a lung disease that apparently causes bleeding in their lungs when they get too worked up. Last but not least, is the elderly horse that I think is becoming my personal favorite. She’s an appaloosa named Emily. She has a lame front leg so she walks with a limp, but she’s full of personality. Claudia said before that if her dog Elsie was a horse she think she would be like Jelly, and I think I can say the same of my old lady beagle and Emily. Miss Emily loves attention and is incredibly affectionate, but is also constantly on the hunt for food and that motive underlies her every action. Before my time here is done I’ll have pictures of each of these horses so that names can be connected with faces.
So after we fed the older horses and made our rounds checking and filling up the water buckets, we started the fun job of raking out the corrals. Once a week we thoroughly rake out each of the eight corrals and the rest of the week we just clean up any large messes they’ve made. Today was the day for the massive cleanup. We got through four before other more pressing requirements demanded our attention. That seems to happen a lot here. Barbara decided today was the day to move the last mustang stallion. He was residing with the colts in the large corral next to the barn but needed to be moved across the road to the large field where the other mustang stallions are kept. He had managed to stake his claim to half of the corral, not letting others near the section where the old lady horses bordered the corral. After several attempts we managed to guide him out of the corral and across the road by blocking alternative exits. Once we had him safely removed we moved the rest of the colts from a pen next to the mustangs over to the corral with the other colts. The whole event caused quite a stir. The newly relocated colts were devastated by their removal from their mothers and they yelled back and forth across the lot for most the afternoon. Also unhappy with the relocation was Jelly, who apparently was quite taken with the mustang stallion that we just moved to the other side of the road. She threw quite a tantrum and we had to do our best to quiet her for fear the stallion might jump the fence.
After the move and our break for lunch Claudia showed me how to properly groom the horses. She was going to be leaving for the afternoon to run errands since she and Adam are leaving Thursday morning for 10 days so to return to New York and drive back with the rest of their belongings, and she thought grooming Annie and Emily might be a good way for me to spend my last couple hours. So since I had no other items on the agenda for the day I took my time. I probably spent close to an hour on each horse, first brushing the dirt off, then using a softer brush to make their coats shine, then using the massage brush and ending by brushing out their manes. It was a calming experience and allowed me, as Claudia said, to really get to know the horses. There’s a lot of trust involved in grooming, on both sides of the equation. When grooming you hug right up against the horses, thus one wrong step and you could end up with a crushed foot, and if you get too far behind the horse she might back into you or kick you because you’re out of her line of vision. On the other side, these old horses have a lot of battle wounds they have acquired over the years and they have to trust you to be careful with all their trouble spots when grooming them. When brushing their manes I found myself treating them as I would another person whose hair I was brushing knots out of, grasping tightly at a clump of hair and brushing out the ends so they wouldn’t feel the pull while I tugged at them. Miss Emily tended to rest her head and neck on your shoulder while you brushed her from the front. A tendency I absolutely loved though sometimes she would rest so heavily that you would have to duck out from under her due to the weight.
While grooming Emily I found myself left on my own. Esteban and Diana, the two permanent workers, left for the day, Barbara had run in town to get parts for the truck that had broken down (broken equipment is apparently a constant happening), Claudia was running errands, and Adam was taking a few hours break before having to go switch the irrigation wheels again. The grounds were completely vacated of human activity save for myself. For the next half hour it was just me and Emily, and the 200+ other equine occupants of the grounds. Not even a car passed by to break the isolation (but then again why would one pass since we were 14 miles off the nearest highway on a road that appeared to lead only to our sanctuary and a few other deserted-seeming ranches). I was detached from humanity to a degree that I feel fairly certain I have never experienced before in my life. It was thirty minutes of a kind of tranquility that will stick with me for a lifetime.
After I finished with Emily I called it a day and spent the rest of the evening journaling in an attempt to catch up on the first few days of activity. Oh yeah, two other events: 1) the last of the pregnant Spanish mustangs apparently had her baby yesterday too – it’s a baby Paint; 2) we have a new resident, Prairie, the two-year-old daughter of another of our residents. She’s absolutely gorgeous and for those of you who watch Disney movies, she looks exactly like Spirit – a yellow/cream coat with a black mane. Gorgeous horse. So yeah, that was the end of my first day. Excellent times.
It is at this time that I think I will take a moment to introduce you all to the horses whose names I have learned thus far. There are about 200 horses on the sanctuary grounds, plus the 12 new mustang foals, so I don’t expect to learn the names of them all, or even half, but I’m told there are several horses, primarily due to their pestering, that I will grow to know quite well. First, I have already introduced you to Annie, the ancient thoroughbred who is perhaps the most docile horse in the park and a particular favorite of Claudia. Her other favorite, Rio, you’ve also met - the former champion thoroughbred who seems to think he’s a bit too good for the rest of the horses here and tends to be a loner, but at the same time feels the need to observe your every action. Then there’s Memphis, the beast of a horse that I got to ride bareback. There’s Jelly, an incredibly sweet and aging white Arabian who has melanoma on her jaw. Cloudy, a gorgeous cream colored Arabian who has only one eye. He’s constantly followed by who everyone simply calls “Claudie’s girlfriend,” a bay colored horse that I’ve settled on calling either “Nuzzle” or “Nudge” depending on whether I decide her tendency to rub her head against me is an act of affection or a demand that I move out of her way. That determination will come with time. There is also Derby, a gorgeous horse whose breed I don’t know but he is what they call a “white” because he is pure white with blue eyes. He apparently loves people and was one of the domestics that introduced himself to Lauren and myself on our first day here. He is also apparently at the top of the pecking order amongst the domestics. Let’s see, there’s Rosie and Georgie, a mother-son pair that though separated by the colts being grouped together in a corral, are normally found side by side, Rosie outside the gate and Georgie just on the other side. Lucy and Lady are two elder reds that I’ve met. Sierra is a bay-colored saddlebred known as the “baby stealer” since she apparently tries to take any young foals that are born on the ranch away from their mothers and raise them as her own. There’s also “the witch” a white horse with brown speckles whose actual name seems to be unknown, but who was banned from the barn since she apparently beat up on the other old horses regularly. She spends most of her time now sadly hanging around the gate to the barn, not quite understanding why she’s not allowed back in. There are two gorgeous Paints, mother and daughter, one brown, one black, who apparently were great riding horses, but contracted a lung disease that apparently causes bleeding in their lungs when they get too worked up. Last but not least, is the elderly horse that I think is becoming my personal favorite. She’s an appaloosa named Emily. She has a lame front leg so she walks with a limp, but she’s full of personality. Claudia said before that if her dog Elsie was a horse she think she would be like Jelly, and I think I can say the same of my old lady beagle and Emily. Miss Emily loves attention and is incredibly affectionate, but is also constantly on the hunt for food and that motive underlies her every action. Before my time here is done I’ll have pictures of each of these horses so that names can be connected with faces.
So after we fed the older horses and made our rounds checking and filling up the water buckets, we started the fun job of raking out the corrals. Once a week we thoroughly rake out each of the eight corrals and the rest of the week we just clean up any large messes they’ve made. Today was the day for the massive cleanup. We got through four before other more pressing requirements demanded our attention. That seems to happen a lot here. Barbara decided today was the day to move the last mustang stallion. He was residing with the colts in the large corral next to the barn but needed to be moved across the road to the large field where the other mustang stallions are kept. He had managed to stake his claim to half of the corral, not letting others near the section where the old lady horses bordered the corral. After several attempts we managed to guide him out of the corral and across the road by blocking alternative exits. Once we had him safely removed we moved the rest of the colts from a pen next to the mustangs over to the corral with the other colts. The whole event caused quite a stir. The newly relocated colts were devastated by their removal from their mothers and they yelled back and forth across the lot for most the afternoon. Also unhappy with the relocation was Jelly, who apparently was quite taken with the mustang stallion that we just moved to the other side of the road. She threw quite a tantrum and we had to do our best to quiet her for fear the stallion might jump the fence.
After the move and our break for lunch Claudia showed me how to properly groom the horses. She was going to be leaving for the afternoon to run errands since she and Adam are leaving Thursday morning for 10 days so to return to New York and drive back with the rest of their belongings, and she thought grooming Annie and Emily might be a good way for me to spend my last couple hours. So since I had no other items on the agenda for the day I took my time. I probably spent close to an hour on each horse, first brushing the dirt off, then using a softer brush to make their coats shine, then using the massage brush and ending by brushing out their manes. It was a calming experience and allowed me, as Claudia said, to really get to know the horses. There’s a lot of trust involved in grooming, on both sides of the equation. When grooming you hug right up against the horses, thus one wrong step and you could end up with a crushed foot, and if you get too far behind the horse she might back into you or kick you because you’re out of her line of vision. On the other side, these old horses have a lot of battle wounds they have acquired over the years and they have to trust you to be careful with all their trouble spots when grooming them. When brushing their manes I found myself treating them as I would another person whose hair I was brushing knots out of, grasping tightly at a clump of hair and brushing out the ends so they wouldn’t feel the pull while I tugged at them. Miss Emily tended to rest her head and neck on your shoulder while you brushed her from the front. A tendency I absolutely loved though sometimes she would rest so heavily that you would have to duck out from under her due to the weight.
While grooming Emily I found myself left on my own. Esteban and Diana, the two permanent workers, left for the day, Barbara had run in town to get parts for the truck that had broken down (broken equipment is apparently a constant happening), Claudia was running errands, and Adam was taking a few hours break before having to go switch the irrigation wheels again. The grounds were completely vacated of human activity save for myself. For the next half hour it was just me and Emily, and the 200+ other equine occupants of the grounds. Not even a car passed by to break the isolation (but then again why would one pass since we were 14 miles off the nearest highway on a road that appeared to lead only to our sanctuary and a few other deserted-seeming ranches). I was detached from humanity to a degree that I feel fairly certain I have never experienced before in my life. It was thirty minutes of a kind of tranquility that will stick with me for a lifetime.
After I finished with Emily I called it a day and spent the rest of the evening journaling in an attempt to catch up on the first few days of activity. Oh yeah, two other events: 1) the last of the pregnant Spanish mustangs apparently had her baby yesterday too – it’s a baby Paint; 2) we have a new resident, Prairie, the two-year-old daughter of another of our residents. She’s absolutely gorgeous and for those of you who watch Disney movies, she looks exactly like Spirit – a yellow/cream coat with a black mane. Gorgeous horse. So yeah, that was the end of my first day. Excellent times.
A day of observation
I didn’t really sleep last night. I think it was the utter silence of the place. The occasional braying of a random burro and the darting of my rabbit across the carpet floor seem all the more jarring when disrupting the quiet that completely envelops the sanctuary at night. Nonetheless, I woke up this morning ready to confront the challenges of the day.
Today was spent for the most part “observing.” At 9:30 ReeAnn, a friend of Barbara’s who owns a feed store and trains horses came to work with Adam and Claudia. Claudia, originally from Germany, plans to be come a veterinarian and aspires to open a center here in California for retired race horses, like “Old Friends” outside Georgetown in Kentucky. Adam, a music major in undergrad, is primarily interested in the sustainable farming side of the sanctuary here so he works with Barbara on taking care of the alfalfa field and he “fixes” things around the farm. ReeAnn is working with them weekly on both riding bareback and on training horses, with the goal that eventually three already domesticated horses will be able to be ridden around the perimeters so the fences can be checked. I got to watch them ride Memphis, a crossbreed called a “warmblood” – the explanation of which I can’t remember at present, but suffice it to say he is a very large bay colored horse with a black mane. Memphis is at the “top of the pecking order” Barbara says, and understandably so since he’s a good three hands taller than the rest of the domestics.
After they each rode him for a bit, ReeAnn brought out Rio – a former winning race horse who apparently broke time records at race tracks in L.A. He’s a good deal smaller than Memphis, but that also means he has a lot more movement. He’s a lighter bay colored thoroughbred, recognizable by the branded numbers on the back of his neck right under his mane, a reminder of his former life. ReeAnn rides him first, and this is the first time he’s been ridden for a number of years. And even then, it’s unknown whether he’d ever ridden for purposes other than racing. However, he’s seems a bit familiar with having a normal-sized person on his back and though a bit spunky, generally recognizes the role of the harness and trots about at a pace lighter and faster than Memphis. Adam finally jumps up and its obvious that due to Rio’s smaller size a good deal more balance is required to keep your place on his back and not on the barn floor. I watched Claudia stride about on Memphis while Adam did his best to remain in his seat and gallivanted around on Rio.
Finally they dismounted and, to my surprise, ReeAnn told me to give it a shot. So with a boost I jumped up on the back of Memphis and Claudia walked me around for a bit. I’ve only ridden once before, and that was on a saddled horse. I can tell you this – riding bareback is much different! I scooted up to right behind his shoulder blades and wrapped my fingers in his mane, clamped my legs against his sides and just did my best to relax and balance myself with each jutting step he took. I managed to stay put, but I couldn’t imagine the balance it would take to stay put if he decided to jump into a trot, or even more difficult, if I was on a smaller horse! After dismounting I helped brush the two horses down and I got to watch them catch and begin to harness train two young colts.
After a day of observation, around 2 pm we took a break for lunch. After lunch I went with Barbara to pick up Mary, the lady who mans the office here, and then go on to “town” – Susanville, a town half the size of Georgetown about an hour’s drive away – to get dog food, Senior (pellet food) for the older horses, and to get my groceries. Just as we were dropping Mary back off at the sanctuary we say Claudia waving us down. She was standing in the carrel of Annie, a thoroughbred and one of the sanctuary’s oldest horses, and Annie was laying down and wouldn’t get up. We all went over and they began to try to coax her up. Claudia said she just went down and then kept looking at her stomach – a bad sign of possible colic, one of the major killers of horses apparently. They finally got a harness around her and got the elderly lady to her feet. Barbara came back with shot of “Vicadin for horses” and injected Annie with it. Claudia then took her out of the carrel and walked with her a bit to make sure she wouldn’t lay down again. Annie threw up a couple times during the walk. Claudia told me later that they’re not sure how much longer she will last. She has lemonitis and they give her painkillers each morning with her Senior. She could go any day now. She’s pretty old for a horse apparently. The barn and the carrels next to it are reserved for the oldest domestics. They lost their oldest horse this December, at an age of 36. Apparently to calculate a horse’s age you multiply its years by 3.3. Thus, any horse over the age of 20 is considered older, and those in their 30s are ancient. Annie is about 28.
After we decided Annie was going to make it through at least one more day, Barbara and I headed to Susanville. With an hour’s worth of silence to break, we chatted about tons of things – her old job, my future job and the various possibilities as to what it might be, the way kids are raised today, her friend that published the only case law book on animal law out there today, her aspirations for the sanctuary among other things. Once in range of town, and therefore also cell phone towers, I made the crucial call to the family to let them know I was alive and well and that Dreamcatcher Horse Sanctuary was in fact a horse sanctuary and not merely a cover up for a cult or something. After buying far more groceries than I needed (likely in part due to my being on the phone all the while thus allowing me to buy more cereal and cookies than I realized), Barbara and I headed back.
This time our conversation was more focused. I asked her what BLM was because she had mentioned the name earlier without much fondness in her voice. She told me it is the Bureau of Land Management, the controller of the expanse of public lands that surrounded us as we drove back to the sanctuary. As controllers of the public lands they therefore also control the Wild Mustangs that roam on them, or rather, did. A law was passed in 1971 that set aside 300 reserves across the country on which wild mustangs could live. Somehow, they’ve managed to eliminate all but four of them and now there are hardly any wild mustangs actually out on these reserves and there are somewhere in the range of 28,000 in government holding centers waiting to be sold to willing buyers. On a related note also unbeknownst to me, horse slaughter has been primarily outlawed and only three slaughterhouses still exist and those three are currently shut down, most likely permanently. Apparently the thoroughbred industry, formerly advocates of slaughter, did a complete 360 and argued in Congress against it. So though she does dislike horse racing, Barbara says she has nothing bad to say about the thoroughbred industry. So back to my point, Barbara said she’s been just waiting for someone to find a way to take the BLM to court over the displacement and sale of the wild mustangs without Congressional permission. She gave me her copy of her friend’s Animal Law book to browse through. She got me incredibly interested in this situation to the point that I think I’ve now discovered my IWP topic.
When we returned we looked out to the pasture of Spanish Mustang mares and Barbara noticed a new baby that had to of been born during the short time we were gone. It was only a few hours old at most and it was already hobbling along on legs that were far too long for its body. It struck me that in the same day we nearly lost one of our elderly horses and a new baby mustang was born. I realized I am going to learn a lot about life and its courses over these next two months.
Today was spent for the most part “observing.” At 9:30 ReeAnn, a friend of Barbara’s who owns a feed store and trains horses came to work with Adam and Claudia. Claudia, originally from Germany, plans to be come a veterinarian and aspires to open a center here in California for retired race horses, like “Old Friends” outside Georgetown in Kentucky. Adam, a music major in undergrad, is primarily interested in the sustainable farming side of the sanctuary here so he works with Barbara on taking care of the alfalfa field and he “fixes” things around the farm. ReeAnn is working with them weekly on both riding bareback and on training horses, with the goal that eventually three already domesticated horses will be able to be ridden around the perimeters so the fences can be checked. I got to watch them ride Memphis, a crossbreed called a “warmblood” – the explanation of which I can’t remember at present, but suffice it to say he is a very large bay colored horse with a black mane. Memphis is at the “top of the pecking order” Barbara says, and understandably so since he’s a good three hands taller than the rest of the domestics.
After they each rode him for a bit, ReeAnn brought out Rio – a former winning race horse who apparently broke time records at race tracks in L.A. He’s a good deal smaller than Memphis, but that also means he has a lot more movement. He’s a lighter bay colored thoroughbred, recognizable by the branded numbers on the back of his neck right under his mane, a reminder of his former life. ReeAnn rides him first, and this is the first time he’s been ridden for a number of years. And even then, it’s unknown whether he’d ever ridden for purposes other than racing. However, he’s seems a bit familiar with having a normal-sized person on his back and though a bit spunky, generally recognizes the role of the harness and trots about at a pace lighter and faster than Memphis. Adam finally jumps up and its obvious that due to Rio’s smaller size a good deal more balance is required to keep your place on his back and not on the barn floor. I watched Claudia stride about on Memphis while Adam did his best to remain in his seat and gallivanted around on Rio.
Finally they dismounted and, to my surprise, ReeAnn told me to give it a shot. So with a boost I jumped up on the back of Memphis and Claudia walked me around for a bit. I’ve only ridden once before, and that was on a saddled horse. I can tell you this – riding bareback is much different! I scooted up to right behind his shoulder blades and wrapped my fingers in his mane, clamped my legs against his sides and just did my best to relax and balance myself with each jutting step he took. I managed to stay put, but I couldn’t imagine the balance it would take to stay put if he decided to jump into a trot, or even more difficult, if I was on a smaller horse! After dismounting I helped brush the two horses down and I got to watch them catch and begin to harness train two young colts.
After a day of observation, around 2 pm we took a break for lunch. After lunch I went with Barbara to pick up Mary, the lady who mans the office here, and then go on to “town” – Susanville, a town half the size of Georgetown about an hour’s drive away – to get dog food, Senior (pellet food) for the older horses, and to get my groceries. Just as we were dropping Mary back off at the sanctuary we say Claudia waving us down. She was standing in the carrel of Annie, a thoroughbred and one of the sanctuary’s oldest horses, and Annie was laying down and wouldn’t get up. We all went over and they began to try to coax her up. Claudia said she just went down and then kept looking at her stomach – a bad sign of possible colic, one of the major killers of horses apparently. They finally got a harness around her and got the elderly lady to her feet. Barbara came back with shot of “Vicadin for horses” and injected Annie with it. Claudia then took her out of the carrel and walked with her a bit to make sure she wouldn’t lay down again. Annie threw up a couple times during the walk. Claudia told me later that they’re not sure how much longer she will last. She has lemonitis and they give her painkillers each morning with her Senior. She could go any day now. She’s pretty old for a horse apparently. The barn and the carrels next to it are reserved for the oldest domestics. They lost their oldest horse this December, at an age of 36. Apparently to calculate a horse’s age you multiply its years by 3.3. Thus, any horse over the age of 20 is considered older, and those in their 30s are ancient. Annie is about 28.
After we decided Annie was going to make it through at least one more day, Barbara and I headed to Susanville. With an hour’s worth of silence to break, we chatted about tons of things – her old job, my future job and the various possibilities as to what it might be, the way kids are raised today, her friend that published the only case law book on animal law out there today, her aspirations for the sanctuary among other things. Once in range of town, and therefore also cell phone towers, I made the crucial call to the family to let them know I was alive and well and that Dreamcatcher Horse Sanctuary was in fact a horse sanctuary and not merely a cover up for a cult or something. After buying far more groceries than I needed (likely in part due to my being on the phone all the while thus allowing me to buy more cereal and cookies than I realized), Barbara and I headed back.
This time our conversation was more focused. I asked her what BLM was because she had mentioned the name earlier without much fondness in her voice. She told me it is the Bureau of Land Management, the controller of the expanse of public lands that surrounded us as we drove back to the sanctuary. As controllers of the public lands they therefore also control the Wild Mustangs that roam on them, or rather, did. A law was passed in 1971 that set aside 300 reserves across the country on which wild mustangs could live. Somehow, they’ve managed to eliminate all but four of them and now there are hardly any wild mustangs actually out on these reserves and there are somewhere in the range of 28,000 in government holding centers waiting to be sold to willing buyers. On a related note also unbeknownst to me, horse slaughter has been primarily outlawed and only three slaughterhouses still exist and those three are currently shut down, most likely permanently. Apparently the thoroughbred industry, formerly advocates of slaughter, did a complete 360 and argued in Congress against it. So though she does dislike horse racing, Barbara says she has nothing bad to say about the thoroughbred industry. So back to my point, Barbara said she’s been just waiting for someone to find a way to take the BLM to court over the displacement and sale of the wild mustangs without Congressional permission. She gave me her copy of her friend’s Animal Law book to browse through. She got me incredibly interested in this situation to the point that I think I’ve now discovered my IWP topic.
When we returned we looked out to the pasture of Spanish Mustang mares and Barbara noticed a new baby that had to of been born during the short time we were gone. It was only a few hours old at most and it was already hobbling along on legs that were far too long for its body. It struck me that in the same day we nearly lost one of our elderly horses and a new baby mustang was born. I realized I am going to learn a lot about life and its courses over these next two months.
Arriving at the sanctuary
After a few wrong turns we arrived around 2 pm and I looked down at my phone. I think it almost laughed at me for even bothering to see if service was a possibility. From Lauren’s phone I called the sanctuary director, Barbara. She was over in the alfalfa fields so she told us to just let ourselves in and get me settled in my room in the bunkhouse. We unloaded my gear and stepped into the house that smells intensely of dog – lots of dogs actually, and rightly so as there are 10+ sanctuary dogs that roam, often in and out of the house, at will. I found my room, a two-person one possibly to be occupied by another young 20-something (hope she likes rabbits), and Barbara came and greeted us. She basically said “Welcome, get settled, look around the grounds as much as you like, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Lauren and I hardly knew where to start but we just walked down the hill from the house as the entire place is lined with horses trotting here and there. As neither Lauren nor myself had any real experience with horses I was unsure about this whole “just go mingle” idea, but Barbara said that so long as I made my presence known, I was good to go. So we gave it a shot, and quickly made friends with several of the domestics who either just really love people or thought it was about time for dinner and a meal could be found in either our jackets or shoes and they should try to eat them to find out. Within the first minute of making my acquaintance with a large bay-colored mare I found myself streaked with horse snot and drool. I grinned and knew this was going to be an excellent summer.
We socialized with several of the domestics and then ventured into the pasture of Spanish Mustang mares. Among them were several new foals – 11 to date – and a bunch of young colts that needed to be weaned away from their mothers before they started getting too frisky with the other ladies and started producing more foals than the sanctuary really had the room or resources for. The mustangs were a bit more wary, but a few did come up, and I counted my day an utter triumph after I was approached by one of the new little fuzzy foals. At that point it was getting late and Lauren needed to start back to Reno. We hugged our goodbyes and she left. I leaned against the doorframe of the bunkhouse and just soaked in my newfound solitude. No phone. No internet at my fingertips. Just me, Barbara, the other two married interns Adam and Claudia, and our 200 non-human sanctuary residents. I was content. I finished getting myself organized, chatted up Adam and Claudia for a bit, then settled down with a movie and a book and went to sleep.
Lauren and I hardly knew where to start but we just walked down the hill from the house as the entire place is lined with horses trotting here and there. As neither Lauren nor myself had any real experience with horses I was unsure about this whole “just go mingle” idea, but Barbara said that so long as I made my presence known, I was good to go. So we gave it a shot, and quickly made friends with several of the domestics who either just really love people or thought it was about time for dinner and a meal could be found in either our jackets or shoes and they should try to eat them to find out. Within the first minute of making my acquaintance with a large bay-colored mare I found myself streaked with horse snot and drool. I grinned and knew this was going to be an excellent summer.
We socialized with several of the domestics and then ventured into the pasture of Spanish Mustang mares. Among them were several new foals – 11 to date – and a bunch of young colts that needed to be weaned away from their mothers before they started getting too frisky with the other ladies and started producing more foals than the sanctuary really had the room or resources for. The mustangs were a bit more wary, but a few did come up, and I counted my day an utter triumph after I was approached by one of the new little fuzzy foals. At that point it was getting late and Lauren needed to start back to Reno. We hugged our goodbyes and she left. I leaned against the doorframe of the bunkhouse and just soaked in my newfound solitude. No phone. No internet at my fingertips. Just me, Barbara, the other two married interns Adam and Claudia, and our 200 non-human sanctuary residents. I was content. I finished getting myself organized, chatted up Adam and Claudia for a bit, then settled down with a movie and a book and went to sleep.
Reno with Lauren!
Ah! Where to start? I’ve got so much to write about I feel I need to just start typing before it all starts draining out of my head.
I don’t think the reality of what it was I’d chosen to do this summer really hit me until I neared the end of my flight from D.C. to Salt Lake City. The plane took off from the normal, busy city center and I soon after turned to writing my four-page “hey here’s how my life has been the past nine months” email that I sent to family and friends at home. At the close of my writing, and just as it was announced that we were beginning our descent and at that time it would be in our best interests to turn our laptops and ipods off lest they be the cause of our utter demise by interfering with the airplanes frequencies, I chanced to glance out my window. I drew in my breath and felt my eyes enlarge a degree as I realized the gray and washed out scene of suburbia had been replaced with a red-colored mountainous landscape. At that moment I realized the leap I had taken and I felt a twinge of panic course through my nerves though it was quickly washed over by a wave of anxious excitement. After one more layover in Salt Lake City, my day that started at 7 am in Portland finally came to an end with my 1 am arrival (Louisville/Portland time) in Reno. Lauren picked me up at the airport, we exchanged hugs long overdue, and she swept me off to her apartment where I stayed up far later than I should have and finally crashed with exhaustion.
Lauren began her “let’s get Carolyn to move to Reno” plan the very next day. After getting breakfast burritos and smoothies at a local coffee shop she wasted no time in introducing me to that which persuaded her to settle in Nevada – Lake Tahoe. We took the long scenic drive up there and we finally came around a bend that opened and revealed the expansive and incredible scene. I thought I’d seen blue waters before, but I fear I’ve been gravely mistaken until now. The waters were a shade of turquoise I can compare only to that of the ocean around the Virgin Islands, but the clarity of the Lake’s waters is one that has no rival in any body of water I’ve seen before. As we drove on we passed segment after segment of this massive body with each view as astonishing as the one before. Lauren eventually stopped at the head of a trail down to the beaches. I wiped the drool from my stunned face, manually closed my dropped jaw, and followed Lauren down to the cove, stopping to take a “me in front of” photo above the nude beach (solely to capture the clarity of the water, not the nudity of the sunbathers mind you). Lauren and I set out our towels on the rocky beach and began an afternoon of alternating between wading ankle deep into the frigid waters and playing with any one of the score of dogs that were also enjoying the beach that day. I eventually got the great idea that we should jump in the Lake. The combination of the amazing weather, the gorgeous surroundings and the freshwater of the mountain lake made for a temptation far too great to refuse. So we found a rock off which to hurl ourselves into the 50-degree water. After devising a careful escape route, I jumped. Describing it as a “shock to the senses” would be putting it lightly I think. But man, what an awakening! Afterward I stood motionless and just felt and listened to the quiet of my surroundings, the still thin air allowing the sun to just lift the moisture off of me. It was the most alive I’ve felt in a long time. The rest of my time in Reno was a good time well spent – meeting Lauren’s friends, going hiking, taking a driving tour of the city, taking a driving tour of the rich people houses and being lucky enough to hot tub in one of them, having a near-death-by-tubing down the Truckee River, and eating a score of delectable cuisine at several fine establishments. After four full days with Lauren, we made the trek to my real destination on Sunday morning.
I don’t think the reality of what it was I’d chosen to do this summer really hit me until I neared the end of my flight from D.C. to Salt Lake City. The plane took off from the normal, busy city center and I soon after turned to writing my four-page “hey here’s how my life has been the past nine months” email that I sent to family and friends at home. At the close of my writing, and just as it was announced that we were beginning our descent and at that time it would be in our best interests to turn our laptops and ipods off lest they be the cause of our utter demise by interfering with the airplanes frequencies, I chanced to glance out my window. I drew in my breath and felt my eyes enlarge a degree as I realized the gray and washed out scene of suburbia had been replaced with a red-colored mountainous landscape. At that moment I realized the leap I had taken and I felt a twinge of panic course through my nerves though it was quickly washed over by a wave of anxious excitement. After one more layover in Salt Lake City, my day that started at 7 am in Portland finally came to an end with my 1 am arrival (Louisville/Portland time) in Reno. Lauren picked me up at the airport, we exchanged hugs long overdue, and she swept me off to her apartment where I stayed up far later than I should have and finally crashed with exhaustion.
Lauren began her “let’s get Carolyn to move to Reno” plan the very next day. After getting breakfast burritos and smoothies at a local coffee shop she wasted no time in introducing me to that which persuaded her to settle in Nevada – Lake Tahoe. We took the long scenic drive up there and we finally came around a bend that opened and revealed the expansive and incredible scene. I thought I’d seen blue waters before, but I fear I’ve been gravely mistaken until now. The waters were a shade of turquoise I can compare only to that of the ocean around the Virgin Islands, but the clarity of the Lake’s waters is one that has no rival in any body of water I’ve seen before. As we drove on we passed segment after segment of this massive body with each view as astonishing as the one before. Lauren eventually stopped at the head of a trail down to the beaches. I wiped the drool from my stunned face, manually closed my dropped jaw, and followed Lauren down to the cove, stopping to take a “me in front of” photo above the nude beach (solely to capture the clarity of the water, not the nudity of the sunbathers mind you). Lauren and I set out our towels on the rocky beach and began an afternoon of alternating between wading ankle deep into the frigid waters and playing with any one of the score of dogs that were also enjoying the beach that day. I eventually got the great idea that we should jump in the Lake. The combination of the amazing weather, the gorgeous surroundings and the freshwater of the mountain lake made for a temptation far too great to refuse. So we found a rock off which to hurl ourselves into the 50-degree water. After devising a careful escape route, I jumped. Describing it as a “shock to the senses” would be putting it lightly I think. But man, what an awakening! Afterward I stood motionless and just felt and listened to the quiet of my surroundings, the still thin air allowing the sun to just lift the moisture off of me. It was the most alive I’ve felt in a long time. The rest of my time in Reno was a good time well spent – meeting Lauren’s friends, going hiking, taking a driving tour of the city, taking a driving tour of the rich people houses and being lucky enough to hot tub in one of them, having a near-death-by-tubing down the Truckee River, and eating a score of delectable cuisine at several fine establishments. After four full days with Lauren, we made the trek to my real destination on Sunday morning.
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