The How
I follow those pages on Facebook-the ones with the pleas for help and the miserable looking animal waiting for a savior. I should know better. But the truth is that there are a lot of animals out there who absolutely do need help. Not having those little reality checks now and again makes the world seem like a far nicer place than it is. And oh, wouldn’t it be great to come to the rescue of someone who desperately needed it? Of course! But I’m no dummy. It’s not as easy as seeing a sad face, deciding to help, then boom, happily ever after. So each time I saw a horse in need, I checked the location (never within 6 hours of me somehow), said a prayer for someone to come through, and scrolled on. I didn’t feel like I had the finances or expertise to be the hero. And anyway, I was planning on getting a well broke and sound riding horse.
One of the pages I started following was SOSS-Save our Standardbreds from Slaughter. I love the Standardbred breed, and think they don’t get nearly the credit they deserve as excellent and all around horses. A Standie friend shared the SOSS page one day so I liked and followed. A few months ago I’d inquired (hesitantly) about an injured Standardbred gelding in a Kansas kill pen. Thankfully he was rescued and rehabbed. His injury was too extensive for me to be able to care for, but those darn heart strings made me ask about him anyway.
Helen was the volunteer who communicated with me about him, what my situation was, and eventually that he had been rescued by a group much closer to his location. So when I heard from Helen again that Sunday night after my terrible interview ride on Saturday with Iowa HART, I was a little unnerved. She said there were two Standardbreds in a kill pen in Iowa. One she thought she had a home for, but not the other. Was I interested? Oh, and they were shipping to slaughter the next day, so hurry up with that answer please…and no pressure, it’s just a life that hangs in the balance… Really she wasn’t pushy at all, but time was of the essence, and I did need to let her know. So…was I interested? Frankly, no, I wasn’t.
Did this horse check any of the boxes on my unicorn list? Who knows? At that point she didn’t even have confirmation on the horse’s gender. He was supposed to be a Horse, as that’s what his freeze brand that matched his papers said, but the feed yard said he was a mare. All we really knew was that he was Hip Tag 911. And he looked terrible. Most horses do in April in Iowa-half shed out and covered in mud. But of course he had that sad and scared look of an animal who can’t figure out what’s happening to them. Why isn’t that constant person I knew anywhere to be found? Where am I? None of this is familiar and I have no idea how to keep myself safe. That look. Kill pen horses have the added ‘bonus’ of getting tossed in with a bunch of other horses in the same frightening situation, and are usually covered with kicks and bites. Hip tag 911 fit that bill all right.
This wasn’t the horse I planned on getting. Surely this wouldn’t be wise-getting a horse I knew nothing about. He could need vet work, and lots of it. He could be dangerous. Was he sick? Would he run through my fence? Through me? Would he beat up my farrier? Was he sound? Would he even get into my trailer? And what would my family think? That I’m a soft old dummy throwing money down a pit? I know the abused animal game is a little Hydra-esque-save one and 2 shall take its place. What was I even thinking?
But this horse needed saving, and I had the ability to do it. So after a good cry, and a conversation with God and Eric, I asked Helen for more info. Over the next few days she and I conversed about that this might look like. How does one bring home a horse she knows nothing about? The land I rent and keep my horse on is one pasture with a 3 sided shed. There is no place to separate the horses to they can slowly get to know each other. There is no stall to safely nurse a wound. No place to quarantine.
Thankfully my mom came through. She has separate paddocks and stalls. She’s got a good farrier and vet if needed. And she was willing to help in any way she could. What a gift!!
So I filled out the adoption application from Standardbred Retirement Foundation and waited. For what seemed like an ETERNITY! The SRF actually calls your contacts and references, and while approval only took a few days, I wanted to make plans to pick up my horse! Because that’s how I saw him now. The feed yard confirmed that Hip Tag 911 was a gelding who was ‘broke to ride and drive’. While he was well bred for harness racing he’d never raced, but ended up as an Amish horse. And he wasn’t limping, so maybe he was sound? That’s all they knew, but it really didn’t matter. He was mine, for better or worse, and I was going to do my best for him. Even if it needed to be his end, it would be humane and peaceful, and not the horror show that animal slaughter is.
Pending approval of our adoption application, Eric and I planned to pick this horse up from the feed yard the Saturday after the first call. Wouldn’t you know, as Saturday got closer the weather predictions got worse. April in Iowa is always sketchy, so it wasn’t a huge surprise, but we did have a rather long journey ahead of us. It was 3 hours from our home to the feed yard, then another two to my mom’s, then two back home. So we prayed. And prayed and prayed.
Friday mid-day (a beautiful, sunny day buy the way) we were notified that we had been approved as adopters! It seemed like a no brainer that we would be, but until it was finalized and the horse was paid for, I worried. Since he would be ours, it was time to name him. HR’s Blazeoffire is his registered name. I didn’t really like any of that for a barn name, and Eric and I like to name our animals after Anberlin songs (Anberlin is our favorite band). We settled on Fin. It’s a great song, although a bit sad, and seemed like a good fit.
Saturday arrived, rain turning to show as we went north, just like they said. Why did the weather person get it right today of all days?! I have a two horse stock trailer, and no waterproof blanket under 84 inches, so I hoped Fin was tough. I’d never been to a feed yard, and was terrified that I’d have to stare into the eyes of a bunch of other horses I wasn’t taking home. Thankfully the place was clean, and Fin had been pulled in the shed to be kept dry. He looked ratty, but overall not too bad. He was nervous, but let us pat his neck and rub his head. The gentleman who ran the place was kind and helpful, gave us Fin’s negative Coggins test, and loaded Fin for us. That was it! All in all, we were out of there within 15 minutes of pulling in the driveway. Somehow the snow had intensified in that short amount of time, but we made it to mom’s place safely.
Fin was shivering so we put him in a stall with hay and water until the weather cleared and he dried enough to groom. When he had a chance to dry and eat, we groomed, de-wormed, and vaccinated him. What a whirlwind this day must have been for him! But he behaved very well the whole time.
By then the weather cleared and got nice (leave it to Iowa to rain, snow, then get sunny and nice in the span of 8 hours…) so we put Fin in his paddock. He was curious but content, and while she shoes needed to be pulled, he seemed sound and healthy and sane.
Wow, we had a new horse! We’d survived and so had he. He was no longer Hip Tag 911, headed to Canada. He was Fin, our mystery horse.
