Kathy Stevens - Where the Blind Horse Sings: Love and Healing at an Animal Sanctuary

B ig Ted arrived a few weeks ago. An ancient, massive draft horse with limited vision, he was to be euthanized unless we took him. His basic carehay, senior feed, bedding for his stall, glucosamine for old jointswill cost close to $400 each month, so the decision to accept him wasnt exactly a practical one. Sometimes, though, we toss out the practical considerations. If anyone deserves a happy ending, it is Ted.

A jet-black Shire with a white blaze, Ted endured the typical draft horses life, first pulling a carriage, then pulling plows in Amish country, then pulling wagons loaded with trees through the woods when he worked for years as a logger. Finally, he was sold to a third-rate riding camp that rented him out for trail rideslong trudges up and down a mountainafter which he collapsed, exhausted, to spend the night in a narrow chute barely wide enough to contain a two thousand-pound horse.

Hes afraid of people, and hes aggressive with other animals, the woman who had bought Ted to save his life told us. And oh, yeah, hes a weaver.A weaving horse rocks rapidly from one front foot to the next, his head moving from side to side with each shift of weight. Its like pacing in place, and it indicates extreme anxiety or boredom, two things Ted had surely experienced in his long working life.

Were going to have our hands full, I told the barn.

The trailer pulled up on a Thursday morning. I stepped up, greeted our new friend, and led him out to his new life. Welcome to CAS, Ted.Youre not going to know what to do with all this love! I whispered over and over as we walked the farm to allow Ted time to relax. Rosie the pig grunted a hello as we passed by, and the goats pressed their noses hard against the fence. Hi, new guy! their posture said.

When Ted walked into his stall a few minutes later, he immediately turned to the corner and began to weave. Though I tried to calm him, he had shifted into another world. He was using the only coping mechanism he knew to manage his fear, and it was heartbreaking to watch. If only we could explain that his worrying days were finally over.

I hoisted myself onto the front wall of his stall and sat. Alex and April joined me.We wanted the old horse to hear kind voices and to feel our calm and happy energy. We talked about the big boy, his history, how we might help him.

And then something remarkable happened. Within minutes, Big Ted turned around, pulling with him not a plow or a wagon full of trees, but a shattered spirit. He stepped toward us tentatively, and with what seemed to me an incredible leap of faith, rested his giant head on my thigh. April, Alex, and I locked eyes.

Perhaps Ted sensed that hed at last found home.

I n our rescue work, responses such as Teds are the greatest compliment we can receive, and were noticing that they happen more than ever before. Coincidence? I dont think so. The hearts of the people who work here are wide open and colossal. They are patient hearts, toohearts that allow each animal the time he needs to know in his bones that hell never be hurt again.Animals feel this: some, like Ted, feel it right away.

And then there are the animal residents.After all, when frightened newcomers take their first steps onto CAS ground, they see more than smiling humans. Often they are greeted by Rambo and Hannah, who trot out to the driveway to see who has arrived; by potbelly pigs strolling through and wagging their tails.Theyre likely to see a volunteer walking down the aisle holding a duck or a chicken, kissing it as she moves it to safety. As our new friends round the far end of the barn for the first time, the goats rush in from the field to press their damp noses through the fence to say hello. CAS breathes love, and that is why broken spirits heal so quickly here.