Rescue! Paying It Forward

I've written a little about my bratty fjord x, who in actual fact, saved my life. I won't go into that, but how, a few years later, I was able to pay it forward by rescuing a thoroughbred mare.

The ad in the paper said $500 so, for some reason, I went to see her, even though I didn't have the funds to purchase her. It was our typical cold, rainy November weather, and she stood, her neck parallel to her withers, her head down, her eyes dull. Her coat was long and rough, and as I ran my hand down her side, my hand easily slipped between her ribs to my middle finger. Her hip bones stuck out, and she stunk of the pond she had to wade through to get to her shelter.

The owner, a small woman, said she was pushy and refused to feed her because of it. Um, I'd be pushy too if I was starving. I asked all my horse friends to go look at her, as I sensed something wonderful about her. No one wanted her. She had no energy to canter, and one trainer said she didn't have the right gaits.

I asked my daughter's British trainer to come look at her, and she said yes, she had beautiful conformation, but a 'pig' eye (small) and was at a point of using her muscle to feed herself. She felt she was worthy of a $500 investment, and I arranged with the owner to pay him in three instalments and took her home.

The first thing I did was throw a blanket on her, and let her and my daughter's thoroughbred get to know one another over a fence. It was love at first sight. Alfie (my daughter's horse) was thrilled with the new arrival. They went into the same paddock with free choice hay, my mare only interested in the food.

I couldn't think of a barn name for her, her registered name being one that was so far from what she was at the moment, there was no way I was using it. After spending time with her, Moka became her barn name, her personality a little sweet, a little spicy.

Through that winter I brushed her morning and night, trying to get the stink of the pond out of her. Gradually she put on weight, her neck and head lifted and her eyes became bright. It seemed to take forever, and one day in April of that year, it seemed that when I took her blanket off, that all her winter coat came with it. There stood proudly before me, a gleaming dark bay beauty.

Over the winter, I'd taken her across the street to the riding arena and lunged her on a long line, teaching her to walk, trot, canter on command. She'd get so mad at herself when she'd pick up the wrong lead and kick out and capriole mid air to change leads. Her athleticism was astounding.

My daughter took her to a cross country event in June, and everyone asked where we'd gotten her, she was so beautiful, including the trainer that said she didn't have the right gaits. Moka smoked it in dressage, her canter was so even and rhythmic. She loved to jump and had to be held back rather than pushed on. When she saw a jump, her ears perked forward, and her attitude was 'hang on, because I'm going.' There was no hesitation with her whatsoever.

I did all the ground work with Moka, as I knew she was too much horse for me. I did get on her a couple of times, and her canter was so smooth, it was like riding a rocking horse. She was so athletic and talented, she had no hesitation in doing anything that was asked of her.

Moka continued to thrive, and her and Alfie became inseparable, mirroring each other's movements, laying down at the same time in the same position, looking like bookends. There was something so similar about their eyes, and when I researched Moka's pedigree, found that they'd had the same grandsire.

The first time I let Moka (and the other two) out into the field after that long, cold winter, her and Alf raced down the hill to the back of the 10 acres, kicking, bucking and squealing. My favourite memories are at dinner time, shaking the grain can calling them in for dinner, and watching them race each other up the hill, Nick trailing behind.

To be continued.