'Tis the Season to be Nostalgic........
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| Rosie and me |
Rosie was one of about 300 horses - and counting, born on a friend's acreage. Normally that's not terribly unusual but read on.
This huge herd started with one rescue horse and through the years, the owner, Bill acquired more horses one by one. Some were sick or abandoned; some were born blind, and some were given to him by people no longer able to care for them because of their finances or circumstances. Bill could never turn even one of them away. But they all grazed together on his acreage, and ultimately formed their own families and hierarchy through the years.
With over 300 acres, Bill divided them up into smaller, manageable parcels he kept in his head, and he would drive through and check on the horses in each and every parcel daily, rain or shine throughout the week.
On this one cold day, he remembers it was especially windy and rainy and huge puddles had formed on the uneven ground. But that wasn't unusual in early Winter. He was on his normal route to check on everybody and it was starting to get dark. As he rounded the curve to start home, he said he saw another huge puddle. No horses were in the area, but as he turned to focus back on the road, he thought he saw movement in the puddle out of the corner of his eye. Something told him to back up and double check. As he came to a stop, he saw what he thought was the flicking of a little brown ear then more movement, so he quickly got out of his truck and ran over to inspect the rippling puddle. To his surprise, a shivering newborn foal was lying in the freezing water, barely breathing. He looked around and saw that the mother horse was nowhere to be found. He knew the newborn would not survive in the cold without its mother's warmth, nurturing, and milk containing the important colostrum newborn foals need to survive. He said he wasn't sure exactly how long she'd been lying there, but he knew every minute counted now if he wanted to give her a chance to even live, much less thrive. Quickly he lifted her head out of the mucky water. She was shivering and very skinny but she was at least alive. Too helpless and exhausted to fight anymore he surmised, she let him gently put his arms around her and help her, shaking, to her feet. Then he took her back to his barn, warmed her and fed her, but he said he didn't know if she would even survive the night.
At this point, all she knew was that she was suddenly dropped into a strange and terrifying environment - literally, much like many of us facing our "new normal" post Covid. In her dark new world she'd been only greeted by cold mud, stranger-danger, and being completely alone without a mother in her "new normal." She did of course survive that night, then the next and the next and she continued to grow and get stronger. Bill named her Rosie. He said he took her out into the pasture in the weeks that followed, in the hope he could locate her mother and Rosie would be taken in by her and nursed and taught to be a horse. But he had no luck.
She would have to stay in the barn, away from the rest of the horses he said, or the stallions especially may kill her if he released her when she was too young. Nothing would be normal for this young horse. She wouldn't grow up like a proper foal, grazing and running free in the pasture with her own family, but it was her only chance for survival under Bills watchful eye. Though the barn was not what should have been her normal world, it was where she would be fed, albeit alone, and struggle to stay alive until she was ready to join the rest of the horses and venture out to form her own four-legged family.
When I first saw Rosie, I wished I could take her home with me. My heart melted. She had the most beautiful face and delicate features I had ever seen. And despite her tumultuous entry into the world, and less than optimum conditions for a foal, she had no qualms about immediately snuggling up to me when this photo was taken.
This is actually a photo of the picture in the magazine where I was working, so apologies for its poor quality. When the magazine's publisher saw the photo and heard her story, he too saw what I saw in her young face and insisted on putting it in his magazine.
So as you muddle through the puddles of this year's shopping, traffic, socializing, and getting creative to find new and safe ways to be with friends and family for the holidays, I hope you'll smile remembering Rosie's beautiful little face and fight to survive. Her dangerous entrance into her frightening new world could have been tragic and would have had a much different outcome had it not been for a human's patience, kind compassion, and love.
Whenever I'm told, "Don't worry. You have the rest of your life;" I remind myself, I don't HAVE the rest of my life. This IS the rest of my life, and I strive to live it to its fullest. Penelope Penn
For more information about rescue horses feel free to visit, https://ahomeforeveryhorse.com
.JPG)
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