When I was a child, my days were full of horses and books. I was painfully shy and spent every possible moment at the barn, grooming, riding, and filling every second with equine relationships
that were safe, loyal and reciprocal. In 10th grade, when my family was moving from France back to Kentucky, my teacher commented on my report card, “It is unfortunate that Susan is so consumed with horses and books.” It was meant to be a criticism, I think, but years later I still reflect on that somewhat scathing comment and realize that in some ways things may not have changed so considerably after all. I no longer have the luxury to lose myself in the indulgence of fantasy and the pure delight of the written word; in fact, those hours are now filled with work, both my day job and my “real job” of running Red Bucket and building our program, which has a vision of one day having an immeasurable and lasting impact on equine welfare. The horses, however, remain the same, only better, as there are more of them, and I can begin to repay a lifelong debt by helping them the way that they have so profoundly helped me.

One of my favorite non-horse books (and there weren’t too many of them) was called “The Family That Nobody Wanted.” I must have read it 20 times at least, and now in reflection I understand that the message has a greater impact in my life now than it did then, when I scoured every page as a lonely and perhaps painfully introspective girl. The story was about a family that adopted a dozen imperfect and unwanted children, and their struggles, both emotionally and financially, but the story was more about the richness that comes from sacrifice, selflessness and true, authentic love. I am reminded of that poignant book as I hear more and more stories about rescue organizations that choose to euthanize the disfigured, old, lame and otherwise hard-to-place horses. At Red Bucket, rescue means just that…rescue, and it is why, when we can, we choose to say “yes” to damaged, starving, suffering animals, even if we feel pinched or a bit strained when we do. We have created a model of rescue that drives us to do our very best, help as much as we possibly can, and then try just a little bit harder, and then help just one more.

In keeping with our passion for serving the desperate, last February we led a rescue effort that saved 31 feral pregnant mares from the anguish and brutality of slaughter. Consistent with our mindset of serving the most devastated, we requested that the most damaged and feral of the horses come to Red Bucket. The other mares were carefully placed with other groups, and a large number went immediately into sanctuary. Without even being able to touch our new horses, we fully embraced and loved them, nurturing them without the ability to use our hands. And in addition to giving them their own red bucket and a name…Marlee, Darla and Darcy…we also made a promise to them and their unborn foals. While we were unable to touch the mares, we were permitted with amazingly minimal supervision to handle their babies. It seemed as if these remarkable, marvelous mothers encouraged us in every way to touch, caress, fondle, and yes, train their offspring, as if knowing that they were being prepared for life as wanted horses. The promise, while clearly articulate with intent, extended much deeper than passionate and verbose language, but was translated into trust, loyalty and love.

Yesterday a handful of us carefully loaded our girls onto a trailer headed for what is perhaps our most beautifully kept promise to date. The entire ranch seemed to stop, stand almost perfectly
still, and watch, or in some cases participate, as if knowing without thinking, only feeling, that real promises translate into dreams. Without incident or even heightened energy, we separated
our foals from their spectacular mothers, and, pushing our emotions down beneath our belts, said good-bye; our mares, our beautiful mares, cooperated in leaving their foals and loading onto the
large stock trailer that took them far away to a life of well-deserved permanent sanctuary. While they displayed grace and a maternal trust in us that their babies would be safe, they do not know
what we know. Tomorrow morning when their hooves touch the open pasture that will be their forever home, they will be joined by the majority of the 29 other mares…sisters, mothers, aunts, family…that were also saved. While we will not be able to see the realized promise with our eyes, or touch our girls with our hands, or hear what we know will be a cacophony of greeting, we can and will feel every joy-filled whinny and momentous greeting as we reunite a family that nobody else wanted.