05/29/2026
There is so much to say about this little horse. I can't even figure out where to start.
What you need to know is that I (Madison, the comms-and-operations side of RAMS) said "no" to this horse five times.
I didn't bid. I didn't accept the trailer headed our way. I didn't load him at Elm Creek. I didn't rush to scoop him up when he came available elsewhere. I couldn't. It wasn't a good idea. We didn't have the time, capacity, or money.
And that was always true. There are tens of thousands of horses out there who need help; it's unfair to the animals in our care already if we focus on every one we *can't* help. We have an obligation to every creature on our property to put them first. It sucks to turn away a horse in need. It hurts, but it's the only way we can keep our promise to the horses that call RAMS home.
One morning in February, I told someone we never do "kill pen" bail-outs. I meant it, too. They're a racket, and there are thousands of mustangs in holding waiting for help without lining the pockets of horse dealers. I stuck hard to our beliefs. Plus, we didn't have the time, capacity, or money.
A few hours later, the horse I'd thought about for three years landed at a popular kill pen, with a sticker price and a ship date.
You can only say no so many times, in so many ways, before it feels like the universe is saying something to you. I don't know what I believe, but this horse -- just a little chestnut with a clunky tube-head and a funny butt spot -- reached out to me in 2022 and he just. Kept. Reaching. I couldn't stand by one more time to let fate take him to his next spot. Not after all this time, all these miles traveled, and all these hands had touched him.
Thanks to some truly incredible efforts from folks who had him before and support from a friend who also loved him, he was bailed, quarantined, and finally made it to VT.
He's snorty. He's unsure. But he's safe. And despite obvious trauma, he's not shut down. He has a whistle-high whinny when you open the hay door. He sacks out for a nap if he thinks no one is watching. He'll take grass from your hands, equal parts suspicious eyeballs and smacking lips.
Time? We still don't have it. Capacity? We're full to the brim, but he has a pen and buddies. Money? That came out of my personal pocket. It would've been a hell of a lot cheaper, faster, and easier if we'd just gotten him in 2023.
I'm eating so much crow over this horse. I'll eat it every day as long as he's safe. I don't know if RAMS is his last stop, but I do know that I'll never lose track of him again. I have a name brewing for him, but I just want to make sure it's the perfect fit before I bestow it. He deserves so much, and I believe he has so much to offer in turn.