by Faye Westlake Newman

Created on: May 29, 2009   Last Updated: June 25, 2009

Yes, by all means, you should take a free horseif you are qualified to care for it, and aware of what you're embracing. If you aren't qualified, and this is your first horse, don't, for his sake and yours.

Our stable has taken many free horses over the years. We've taken in wild mustangs someone couldn't gentle, starving stallions long neglected, abused animals no one wanted. We've taken spoiled horses and those so injured we feared we'd end up putting them down. We've taken in retired show horses, race horses, and rodeo gamers whose owners have gone on to younger, more agile mounts.

All but a very few of those were rehabilitated, made fit for children to ride, and sold to responsible owners. One was given away because he was so old no one would pay, and lived to be 39. Two were registered stallions we later used only for showing and breeding. Others not sold, we still use as lesson horses for developmentally delayed children. Only one failed to accept being ridden. He became a national rodeo champion bucking horse with a stunning pedigree and perfect conformation. No one ever rode him.

We were qualified to discern illnesses that were beyond management, injuries that seemed to spell permanent damage, and meanness that couldn't be resolved by love. We were also qualified to gentle horses others considered hopeless. We knew how to feed and care for horses without foundering them or causing life-threatening colic. We knew how and when to de-worm, vaccinate, trim feet, and treat injuries. We knew how to make a horse feel at home. We knew how to halt bad habits like kicking and biting and breaking tie ropes. We knew how to tame incorrigible brats and untouched wild ones. We kept a vet on call and knew her prices.

Sul Farrah was an abandoned, registered Arabian stallion who, at twelve, had never been inside a barn, or seen a halter, never mind a saddle. It took us a day to herd him into an enclosure and two days to lure him into a trailer. He arrived at our stable trembling in terror and soaked with sweat, though the day was cool. We turned him into a stall with a paddock and later found him trapped under the lowest rail of the paddock fence, trying to escape. There was no way to push him back in. All we could do was pull him outside the enclosure. When he stood up and shook his head, we expected him to head for open range at breakneck speed. Instead, he approached my husband and thanked him as clearly as if he'd spoken the words. He whickered, nuzzled, and

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