The new additions to my farm certainly added spice. Chester, Eddie, Molly, and the hogs quickly ate down the waist high grass in their pen. I ordered some movable electric net fencing so that I could start taking them around the yard a bit at a time to clean it up for me.
I wasn't done looking for full-sized horses, however. One night after work I drove my motorcycle to a horse rescue in Nebraska. The rescue had been located close to Omaha but had recently moved farther west in order to provide more land for the horses.
The lady who ran the rescue was overrun with ponies. Her heart was in the right place, but she took in way too many horses for one person to tend. She had feedlot rescues, owner-surrendered horses, abandoned ponies, permanently disabled "pasture pet only" horses, and neglect cases from surrounding counties. While there was hay and water for everyone, there were way too many horses and not enough people to handle them on a consistent basis. She did not personally train any of them, so very few actually rode. However, I was too naive to realize that training was an essential ingredient to the successful operation of a rescue.
Clearly annoyed that I had just gotten the mini farm and still wanted more horses, my boyfriend once again agreed to help me, and we discussed which of the horses we should adopt. I planned on adopting two, because horses are herd animals of course, and I didn't want a lonely pony feeling miserable by herself while I was gone to work all day. He wanted a gelding, but most of them had already been adopted out, leaving just a wide selection of mares.
I said I wanted the feedlot rescue sorrel mare named Jahzara, although I didn't tell him it was because I was secretly hoping she was pregnant. Many of the other mares rescued from the lot were pregnant and delivered absolutely adorable babies. In hindsight, it's very fortunate that Jazzy wasn't pregnant, because I would have been lost trying to deal with a newborn foal. The boyfriend said I should get the chestnut Arab mare (Phoenix), too. I had no objections.
We still didn't have the boyfriend's gelding. I met the geldings on the property, and the only one who hadn't been adopted was an ancient black Saddlebred boy with a bad case of swayback. He looked very rough, and I was very iffy about the possibility of that bowed back holding my not-so-light frame. I looked around more and met a spotted yearling colt. He was rather goofy looking, with a long white mane, big head, short thin neck, and legs too spindly for his pot-bellied body. They called him Baby. The little bay filly with him was called Treasure. She wasn't quite a year old and had a similar gawky appearance. She had a small white star in the middle of her dark forehead. They were both very friendly, if not appealing to the eyes.
I told the boyfriend that this gangly, ungelded colt was his only other option aside from the old man. "Well," he said, "if we get the colt we have to get another horse his age so that he has someone to grow up with." Being the horse-crazy woman I was, of course I didn't object to the suggestion of picking up ANOTHER horse. I was thrilled, ecstatic, beyond myself with excitement. I wasn't just getting ONE riding horse, I would be getting FOUR!!! Ah, naïveté...
So I had my horses picked out. I didn't have a trailer or truck. I arranged for the rescuer to deliver my horses to my house for $1/loaded mile. Altogether, I was spending a grand total of $550 along with trailering for four barely handled horses (none of them started under saddle). Altogether, I now would have SIX equine companions. Talk about jumping from the frying pan into the fire!!
To be continued...
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