Enough time has elapsed since my beloved Bit the horse died (last January) that I won’t be upset if you don’t remember. I, of course, will always recall the last few days of his life, and how sickly he was. In my experience, we humans often grieve for our beloved pets as much, if not more, than we do for our fellow humans. Bit was no exception.
I knew that it would be a long time before I could even think about another horse. After a conversation with Harmony Barn owner Wendy on the subject of what horse she might rescue next, it became clear that her taking in a rideable horse was very unlikely, and, realistically, it was far more important that she rescue one that really needed help, rather than one that Kelly would be able to ride. All of which got me thinking.
In the first place, did I even want another horse? I worried that Bit – who was by then safely ensconced in the Harmony Barn pasture along with the spirits of all the other rescues who had passed on – would feel like I was being disloyal to his memory, that he was easily replaced. Nothing could be farther from the truth.
In the second place, if Wendy didn’t take in a rideable rescue, what were my options? Well, those were thin on the ground: Wendy didn’t have any horses up for adoption, and none of the boarders currently there were inclined to sell their horse. This left me with one option, if I wanted to continue having a horse in my life (and I’d pretty much decided that I did), I was going to have to buy one.
And in the third place, was I completely insane? Could I even afford a horse? I knew that I didn’t know enough to take care of a horse myself, and our back garden would not be suitable for a horse. That left boarding at a facility, and Wendy wouldn’t have any stalls available until spring.
Having given the matter a great deal of thought – almost to the exclusion of everything else – I began looking for a horse. I decided that the new horse must be the complete opposite of Bit, so that he wouldn’t think I had easily replaced him. I thought a draft horse might be an interesting change, as much for their size as for their calm temperament. The calm temperament alone held great appeal, after all the spooking Bit had done, and the large size intrigued me. I began my search looking for a Percheron, or a Belgian Draft, and I quickly learned that both are very expensive. Ten thousand quid??? Finding myself briefly in a stalemate, it occurred to me to check with area rescue barns, to see if they had any that might be available. As it happened, one did.
The hubs was not in favor of this endeavor. He was convinced that I would play with the horse for awhile, then lose interest and not spend any time with it. The hubs knows nothing! The hubs was also not in favor of the buying aspect, as in, why would I want to pay for a horse when I’m saving for retirement? The man can be so tedious.
I looked at photos of a Belgian named Gertrude. At 17hh, she was as tall as a mountain. She was 20 years old (I had wanted an older horse, in case I didn’t really fancy horse ownership), and she was rideable. I contacted the sanctuary and made arrangement to visit in a week’s time.
After a ride, a lot of questions, and some photos and video that I sent to Wendy’s daughter Connie, with whom I was conferring because she knows far more about what to look for in a horse than I do, I stood looking at Gertrude, taking her in. She seemed to have a mild personality. She seemed patient. And she felt safe to ride on. I thought about all of that as I considered the enormity of what I was contemplating, and I decided why not? I hadn’t found any compelling reason – nor had Connie – not to adopt her. So I did.
Wendy found me a temporary facility for Gertrude, whilst we wait for a stall to open up at the Harmony Barn, a stable only a fifteen minute drive away. It’s a huge place, with six separate pastures and a large arena, as well. Gertrude is situated in the main barn, surrounded by other horses to keep her company. But it’s not ideal: the owners of this stable don’t live on-site as Wendy does, and they don’t get to know all the horses in the barn, as Wendy does. Without that supportive knowledge, I’m out of my depth, in terms of being able to tell whether something is wrong with Gertrude, and that scares me silly, so I say nightly prayers to the Gods, asking them to help me help Gertrude. To my thinking, she’ll only be really safe once she’s at Wendy’s barn, where Wendy can keep a daily eye on every aspect of her being. In the meantime, I visit her every day, mucking out her stall, giving her a once-over, checking the consistency of her poo, seeing how much water she’s taking in, and hoping I’ll be able to spot anything out of the ordinary. Those daily visits are also an invaluable way to get to know her, and develop a bond. So far, I’m finding her very intelligent and utterly delightful, and I believe 100% that I did the right thing in adopting her. Stay tuned!
