I wanted to write a rescue story with a happy ending. So, I was searching the Internet and polling people I know and then I said, “Hey, waaait a minute…whaddabout my own Samantha?!”… I have a happy ending AND lots of pics.
HERE’S THE STORY
I watch several Rescue websites which is dangerous if you are holding a fresh paycheck… which was me on this particular day.
I stumbled upon a Rescue thread that needed help rescuing several very heavy in foal, wild mares. (Read, never been touched and really of the opinion that they did not want/care/need to be handled…ever)
These mares were at a feedlot in Nevada, waiting transport to Mexico for you know what. Obviously, if these mares had never been handled, the chance of them being rescued was slim.
WHAT THE HECK AM I DOING?!
Untouchable pregnant mares in a feedlot just made my blood boil. I was angry that some rancher breeder had run all these wild mares with his stud and then, when times got tough, he/she drove them into a trailer and straight down to the meat auction.
(I was also told that some ranchers get the mares pregnant TO SELL THEM at a higher weight. Dunno.)
This struck me wrong. I hated the idea of these pregnant mares sent to auction and the by-product (the foal) sold as sausage or whatever. So, with paycheck in hand, I picked one mare and paid her entire bail. It felt really good.
HOW I ENDED UP WITH A WILD MARE
The Rescue group emailed me and offered that particular mare to me since I had paid her whole bail. I said jokingly, “Well, if you can get her to me free, sure!” Well, guess what…
Late one Monday night in May, I heard the distinct rumble of a large horse transport vehicle… Hmmm. I wonder who would come down my road with a huge trailer?
Yup, you guessed it. My wild mare had arrived.
I had no idea what to do except back the trailer up to my barn and herd her into a double stall – and that is exactly what we did. She calmly walked out of the trailer, looking skinny, disheveled, filthy and very, very pregnant. It was easy herding her. Obviously, she knew what was up with that.
I named her Samantha after the BEWITCHED character. She looked like Elizabeth Montgomery to me. Her feet were horribly long, she had a very rough coat and she smelled something awful. I have no idea what she had been scrounging to eat these pasts months but it didn’t do her much good.
I called the vet the next morning. He checked her out — as best he could since she was UNTOUCHABLE– and said that with a mare in such bad shape, the baby might be stillborn. That made me sad but happy that at least this mare would have a better life from now on.
But, alas, two weeks after arriving, here comes TROUBLE!
Mini-Me was born at a very respectable 9pm (Thank you, Sam) and she was healthy and full of herself! Mama had given everything to that baby. I named her, Mini-Me because, well… look at her. She was colored exactly the same as her mother except baby’s mane was darker.
I’m happy to report that when Mini-Me was 18 months old, she found a great home with lots of acreage. The new owners fell in love with her and she lives on a ranch will hundreds of acres.
Sam still lives with me (I often refer to her as my “wild mare” or my “untouchable mare” in blogposts). I have to honestly say that Sam is the most striking horse I’ve ever brought home. Watching her in her ‘wild ways’ is so enlightening. She is incredibly wise – an old soul – she teaches us all.
Sam’s feet have never been trimmed but they are very strong and healthy. She is alert but not crazy. She is honest. You know exactly where she stands… Yet, when she is upset or afraid, she won’t bite or kick. She just lets you know that she would prefer to ‘leave now’. And, I let her.
Sam and I have an understanding. I never raise my voice or make big gestures around her. I don’t ask her to move quickly and I don’t touch her unless I ask permission. We get along.
Sam is my girlfriend… if you know what I mean. We are very respectful and admiring friends. At least I hope she admires me. But, I think the fact that she acknowledges my presence, lets me touch her and even nickers at mealtime, makes me feel very, very honored.
Even though she has no job or purpose, for me, her existence is very, very precious…
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