Trust is a function of past positive experiences. The problem was that the colt had never

had any positive experiences, at least not in a very long time. He was standing in a

broken down corral, completely alone. All of the other horses had been removed. The

lone colt stood isolated and clearly frightened; either they did not want him, or couldn’t

catch him. The desolation was eerily more apparent due to the fact that the corral stood

on 180 acres of vacant and barren land. The once magnificent barns had long ago

ceased to serve as a home for wanted horses, and the fences creaked from weather,

neglect and age. Weeds now encroached what had once been meticulously groomed

pathways and flowerbeds. Years of careless entitlement resulted in piles of filthy debris,

broken strollers and discarded clothing, which served as a painful reminder of

interlopers who neither valued the once beautiful farm nor the horses who had lived

there.

The call had come in the morning prior from the land developer who had purchased the

now dilapidated horse farm. The recent year had been a battle to evict the inhabitants

who had not only desecrated the grounds with layers of disrespect and garbage, but

had also violated the once pristine farm with illegal and immoral activity. With guns

drawn, the last of the interlopers had been forcibly removed and in exiting had taken

everything of value, leaving behind a colt who had not yet lived a year, but had lived a

lifetime in an iron prison, alone, neglected…and unwanted. The developer was one of

the good guys, concerned about the colt that they were unable to touch and keep, and

caught in a conundrum as the farm was destined to be transformed from a showplace of

a lifetime ago into an elementary, middle, and high school.

Trust for Leonie was a horse of another color. She had been rescued from a slaughter

auction; feral, pregnant, and showing the signs of stress from the many years of past

experiences that were neither welcome or positive. Feral horses are often more difficult

to rehabilitate than wild horses, as while wild horses have no experience, feral horses’

experiences with mankind are nearly always abusive or negative. Leonie settled into the

quiet barn behind the house and seemed to quickly embrace a world that asked nothing

of her, took nothing from her, and brought only kindness, patience, safety, and an

abundance of food to fuel her body and feed her unborn baby. We were very careful to

only contribute positive daily experiences for Leonie, and she began to slowly exhale

and embrace life on the ranch that she had instant equity in. As she visibly showed the

signs of relishing the grooming, pampering and compassion that slowly began to define

her new life, her belly grew and also became more defined, as her foal completed the

last several weeks of development. Our trust building occurred one brick at a time, at

Leonie’s pace, and first focused on establishing a foundation on which to build and

develop a stronger base.

We stood on the edges of the corral, strategizing our rescue plan. The colt warily edged

his way to the back corner of the only place that he knew. The loneliness and lack of

touch had starved him even more than the meager portions of food that he had become

accustomed to. He watched us with a blend of skepticism and distrust. Unwilling to

allow the afternoon sun nor later the threat of approaching dusk to rush him, we slowed

our breathing, slowed his heart rate, and suspended time. Jared named him Maverick,

and with a single red bucket, one unified voice, and a synchronized hand, we gently

secured him in his corner with an unhinged gate and all the time in the world. He

continued to eat mouthfuls of the feed, and betraying his own fear permitted my fingers

to softly caress his little muzzle. Maverick began to intentionally bump into my hand, as

if gaining more nourishment from my touch than from the contents of the bucket itself.

With a silent but deliberate movement we slipped the halter gently onto his head,

securing not only the horse, but also his safety.

Maverick has been enrolled in Red Bucket Charm Farm. He is slowly learning to lead, is

secretly finding pleasure in being touched, and is filling what had been a lonely void with

the companionship of his donkey neighbors and the rotation of new friends who play

and graze in the adjacent paddock. While he still needs time, he whinnies when he sees

us, anticipates the arrival of his red bucket, looks forward to a gentle touch that was

absent for far too long. Leonie’s baby, Cronin, was born into a world of the wanted. She

will never know the reality that her mother survived, and has received the Red Bucket

promise of a safe and meaningful life. We are carefully making small, daily deposits into

Leonie’s bank account and she is permitting us to handle her perfect, precious baby on

her terms. Cronin too is enrolled in Charm Farm, but it is on her mother’s conditions,

and we respect that. Leonie is carefully watching us, and we are careful not to let her

down. Trust is a function of past positive experiences, and we are mindful of just what

that really means.