With Hayley Goes a Piece of My Heart

A few weeks before I adopted Hayley six years ago, she faced a veterinarian who was preparing to euthanize her and said, "Not yet."

Not long thereafter, she arrived at a beautiful farm in Harvard on a crisp October day in 2006, and immediately acted like she owned the place.  For five blissful years, she romped through green pastures with her best buddy, Bey:  the two old horses seemed much younger than their years, relishing one another's company and thriving in a drafty old barn that offered all the fresh air they needed.  Hayley galloped and squealed and even jumped into the air.  She didn't look anything like the broken horse I'd first met at Bay State Equine Rescue (BSER), and it was a joy to see her loving her life, maybe for the first time.

Before BSER's Susan Sheridan saved her from the clutches of kill buyers at an auction, Hayley had been hard used, in service as a Premarin mare.  She didn't have a name then, but was known only by her brand, #188.  It was probably her many years of inhumane confinement that decimated Hayley's lungs, and caused her breathing to be compromised for the rest of her days.

She suffered another blow last November, when laminitis claimed Bey.  I felt the depth of Hayley's sadness when I found her at dusk one rainy evening, a few days after Bey died, standing alone in the middle of the paddock where he lay, her head down as low as it could go, as if nothing mattered anymore.

Though we never found another companion for Hayley, she seemed to adjust to spending her days alone, but a certain joie de vivre seemed to have left her when Bey did.  Then came the torrid summer and its relentless humidity, and so did the onslaught of Hayley's breathing problems.  I had hoped that cool mornings would bring some welcome relief, but this year, the early fall breezes seemed powerless to loosen the grip of the long years of damage.

Hayley was failing, but she had always bounced back before, so I continued to hope.  Until yesterday morning, that is, when for the first time in six years, she lay down outside her stall as if she couldn't muster the strength to stay on her feet.  She seemed to respond to the vet's ministrations, and when I left her, after several hours, she was drinking and taking tentative bites of hay.  She'll be fine, I told myself.

She had to be.  Hayley was a mare who taught me how to trust, and how it felt to be trusted.  Who taught me how to love, expecting nothing in return, but getting so much more than I can ever measure.  Our quiet times together were a source of solace in times of stress.  She was always there, nickering a happy hello.

But last night, that voice was silenced forever, though it echoes still in my heart.  Hayley went into serious respiratory distress, and by nightfall, she was in the throes of a colic that wouldn't quit, in spite of everything we did to quell it.  This time, there was no reprieve.  No choice but to say a gentle good-bye.  A little part of me died, too, when she took her last breath.

Three Thoroughbreds Snatched from the Jaws of Slaughter at Maine's Hemphill Farm

Brenda Hemphill isn't saying how two thoroughbred fillies from Florida ended up at her notorious farm in Maine. But what we do know is that horses who are unlucky enough to land there often end up on a one-way truck to a Canadian slaughterhouse. And if it were not for emergency intervention by Pure Thoughts Rescue's Florida Thoroughbred Rehab & Placement, these young horses would have met the same fate.

On March 16th, Pure Thoughts founders Brad Gaver and Jennifer Swanson were tipped off that the former Florida horses were in harm's way at the Hemphill farm. They became alarmed after having read a recent Boston Globe article in which Brenda Hemphill admitted that she makes her money by marketing horses for meat.

But when they called her, Hemphill tried to pass off the fillies as "camp horses" who had been living in Maine for some time. It was the first of many lies the Rescue would be told. "Knowing that one of the thoroughbreds had just turned three, had raced last summer, and that the horses arrived in the last 10 days, the story did not add up," said Gaver.

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New Hampshire's EPONA Equine Rescue Closes But Its Special Needs Horses Still Need Homes

For 10 years, Equine Protection of North America (EPONA) has saved homeless, abused, and neglected horses, and placed them in loving homes. But on Tuesday, March 16th, the Epping, New Hampshire-based nonprofit rescue announced that it was permanently closing its doors, leaving the fates of three remaining "special needs" horses still up in the air. They must find new placements by month's end.

EPONA President Catherine Blake explained that, "in this economy, we are just not able to make ends meet. It's heartbreaking."

On behalf of EPONA, Ms. Blake is reaching out to anyone who may be able to provide temporary or permanent care for:

Iceman, a 17-year-old thoroughbred gelding (pictured above), who is a grandson of the great Northern Dancer. In his earlier days, Iceman was quite an athlete himself, having had a successful career as a high-ranking jumper and three-day eventer. But by the time he got to EPONA, he had been the victim of long-term neglect. He was diagnosed with Uveitis, or "Moon Blindness," and had lost the vision in one of his eyes. The damage caused by the inflammation in the grand gelding's eyes made it necessary to remove them. Though completely blind, Iceman has led a happy life romping in the paddock with his seeing-eye companions, including Prize (below).

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