Dream Catcher Farm Horse Sanctuary

 Lucky didn’t have a name until luck became his saving grace.  Standing at 12-hands, the size of a large Irish Wolfhound, the young black stallion was sent with a birthday ribbon to a 4 year-old boy.  As soon as inevitable damage was done, a kick to the child’s backside or a nip to his arm, the noble pony was banished to his stall.  No more human interaction except for the giving of food and water, no more blue skies or green pastures, clover leaves, or curry combs.  Away with the veterinary check-ups, farrier services, and stall cleanings. And the years passed by, 1, 2, and then 3.  By luck, the grace of God, or the good will of a concerned neighbor, 2 humane society workers were notified and found the pony engulfed so deeply in urine and feces that his back was rubbing against the barn roof.  His tail had grown into the muck and had to be cut, and the barn wall torn away.  He required sedation upon rescue in order for his hooves, which had grown over fourteen inches long, to be removed, and his emaciated body cleansed of worms and wounds.  He suffered a cardiac arrest during the lengthy surgery but survived.

Today, Lucky lives at Dream Catcher Farm Horse Sanctuary in the grassy hills of Rocky Mount, Virginia.  He has 8 four-legged equine companions who are all cared for by Kitty L. and her husband, Bucky, a couple with a passion for horses.  Kitty is a full-time social worker, wife, and mother of 3 grown children.  Her day begins with her own assortment of medicines for juvenile diabetes and a few extras to aid in the recovery of a recent heart attack.  There is a short walk from her back door to the barn where she cleans stalls, feeds, waters, and medicates her eight foster horses. Followed by an 8 hour day of work with the mentally challenged occupants at the assisted-living facility where she works, she returns to the barn again for evening feeding, watering, grooming, and medicating.  “I only work,” she says, “so I can care for these horses.  If I didn’t have to earn money to pay for them I would gladly spend all of my hours here.”

Lucky is not the only fortunate pony to live his life on Kitty’s farm.  Eight others share the distinction of being Dream Catcher Farm Horse Sanctuary residents.  And it is quite a distinction.  Jackson and Samson were on a slaughter truck when Kitty tracked the owners down and offered the going rate of horse meat for dog food, a cost measured per pound of horse. Jackson is a bay Morgan with a white streak down his face, and is certainly one of the more beautiful residents, a beauty which is slightly marred by a limp in his gate.  He has equine protozoan disease, or EPM, which means his spine is plagued by a protozoan which will slowly destroy his central nervous system.  Samson, a handsome Appaloosa, was a former barrel racer who now suffers from torn tendons in his legs; navicular, a degenerative disease of the navicular bone; ring bone, a bone swelling around the hoof, and blindness in one eye.  Kitty calls him “Sammy” and says he is the “kindest horse here.”

A few months after my first visit to the farm, I sent Kitty and Bucky a portrait of Sammy grazing.  A few days later I received a card explaining that after a battle with an insect born virus Sammy had recently died.  Kitty had the photograph matted and framed. On my second visit she showed me the portrait, now hanging in her foyer, and with teary eyes said it meant more than she could say.

Sammy conjures the most tears, and Lucky may have the most moving biography, but Jake’s story is almost as equally moving.  Jake is a 10 year-old chestnut Saddlebred; he is best friends with Samson and Bubby, the oldest horse, but is very shy around people, reasonably so.  He was formerly a show horse, but when he developed horny white growths in his ears his owners became embarrassed.  They took a knife to the growths in an unsuccessful attempt to remove them.  After this and other incidents of abuse, he would no longer allow a bridle or halter to be placed over his head.  Thanks to Kitty, he now has a home free of abuse, and he is loved despite the harmless growths in his ears.

It costs over $1500 a month to feed, medicate, and care for these horses, and 99% of the cost comes from Kitty’s pocket. Out of a million, these horses are eight lucky ones who are living the cruelty free lives they deserve, lives that Kitty, who is one in a million, provides. Kitty tells me these horses and the abuses they have endured are not unusual.  What I have found, however, is that people like Kitty are.

*I’m sorry that I don’t have a picture of Lucky to show.  I’ll keep looking.  I believe Sonny is the top picture, and Sammy is the close-up, grazing.  This last picture is Kitty with Jackson.

*Also, forgive me for any errors you may see.  This has not been edited by anyone before posting.

Most blogs, by definition, have a theme or subject; I was surprised to learn this.  My blog, as you know, serves only as a self-indulgent, ego-needy platform for my pictures and occasionally interesting, more normally boring briefs about my life.  There are some common spools –dogs, bikes, singlehood, and of those maybe the more interesting are the bits about the single life.  Those are the ones that get the most hits anyhow, but are also the ones I write, then lament in embarrassment over later and often add a password to.

But synchronicities have aligned and I have inspiration for a new blog thread that I’ll commit(!) to for some time going forward.  This is to say that I have a purpose.  Those things that came into alignment for me don’t need to be expanded on here but I’ll briefly share: a nearby farm with calves raised for veal, daily posts by Facebook groups such as Angels of Assisi, Farm Sanctuary, and Rolling Dog Ranch, as well as regular URGENT NEED messages for dogs who will be euthanized unless adopted or placed in foster.  It is overwhelming.

A great part of last night was spent gathering information about how to help an out-of-state friend adopt a dog from our local Animal Control.  Those involved on the Facebook thread are animal-workers and I went to bed thinking about the amazing work they do and feeling an overwhelment of gratitude for them.

I was once passed over for a job at a shelter in New Hampshire because they said I was “too emotional,” so instead I volunteered with the fundraising committee.  In my younger days I regularly volunteered at animal shelters (Lynchburg Humane Society, Washington County Humane Society, Porter County Animal Shelter, Little Rock Humane Society, and Humane Society for Greater Nashua).  When I moved to Roanoke I tried to be a foster-mom but my first and only attempt did not go well.  I have not since returned to hands-on volunteering because I just can’t manage my emotions about the abuse and neglect our society inflicts on animals, as well as feeling desperatly unable to do enough.  As a counselor-in-training I work with child-abusers, rapists, addicts, as well as people who cuss, yell, throw and spit on me.  It’s nothing by comparison to the work animal-workers are doing.

I berate myself for not doing more.  Then I forgive, telling myself that my daily work is altruistic.  But still, I want to do more.  I’ve long felt these pulls and when first in graduate school my thesis project was a photo-essay of  3 rescues.  My work has been stored on a flash drive since then with my only reminder being a photograph of a rescued horse, Sammy, that hangs in my home.  With my next posts I’ll share each of my 3 essays with some accompanying photos.  My hope is to continue from there, and write about other local rescues and the people committed to this good work.  I’ll post the first tomorrow, so check back, and feel free to share.

*Shown above are my two girls on one of our daily walks.  Phoebe, the larger, was adopted from Angels of Assisi.  Carlie, the smaller, was found as a stray.

If you are going to commit to reading Word Perch through this sanctuary project, and I hope you will, you’ll have a bit of reading to do.  I’ll space each sanctuary out by a week, give or take, so you have plenty of time to keep up.  The other thing I’ll do is provide an update after introducing each place, with current information, as well as web links (when available) should you be interested in learning more or donating.

As you read, please feel free to comment, even if only to let me know you’re following.

Here’s intro II:

Introduction

I first approached Dr. Kaldas with thoughts on photographing and writing about slaughterhouses and Humane Societies for my final project at Hollins.  I had expectations of reaching people and impacting their lives by showing how cows, pigs, and chickens are grown and slaughtered.  And by showing the faces of chocolate labs and tortoise shell calicos who are among the hundreds killed every week.  In my eagerness and excitement at undertaking such a challenge, I was disheartened when she suggested trying something “more fun.” I left her office deflated, but I mulled around a few ideas in light of her advice. Before the end of my hour drive home I felt excitement at an opposite idea to my former.  Why not photograph animal sanctuaries and rescues?   For years I have been interested in animal sanctuaries, or any place that provides safe haven for animals.  I have subscribed to the Best Friends Animal Sanctuary magazine, and have read about Farm Sanctuary in New York, which provides refuge for farm animals who would otherwise be slaughtered.  I have read Cleveland Armory’s Ranch of Dreams, Peter Singer’s Animal Liberation, John Robin’s Diet for a New America, and have long admired the photographs of Elliot Erwit and William Wegman.

I determined that I only wanted to visit sanctuaries that provided quality housing, were no-kill, and took in animals that would otherwise be killed or live in misery.  In Southwestern Virginia there are no such places, so I had to venture first to Rocky Mount, Virginia for Dream Catcher Farm, then to Palmyra, Virginia to see Caring for Creatures, and my third is a private farm run by a couple in Forest, Virginia.  Theirs is not a non-profit like the first two.  They say, money only goes out; they have no volunteers, and except for the rabbits, no animals are up for adoption.   In every other way they own and run an animal sanctuary.

When I ventured out to my three chosen farms I knew that I would be moved, angered, and saddened by the stories of the resident animals.  What I had not counted on was being equally if not more so, touched by the amazing people that run these sanctuaries.  I am honored and forever changed by knowing them.  I hope this project will convey my love for the animals as well as my gratitude to the people that have made this all possible.

I first heard about Caring For Creatures at a most unlikely place. Amidst drunken crowds of wine tasters and music goers at the Virginia Garlic Festival at Rebec Vineyards, was the small and modest booth dedicated to educating the public about a far more meaningful endeavor, one that with wine glass and bottle in hand we might not have been ready for.  But I bought a book on loveable mutts for my father, the proud owner of one, and a bag of dog bones for my dogs, and some time much later sat with the newsletter they publish to read more about Caring For Creatures, “A Not For Profit Foundation Dedicated To The Care Of Homeless & Abandoned Animals.”

I finally made a visit to the sanctuary the day after Christmas with my parents in tow and sister and boyfriend following behind.  It is a long drive from Lynchburg, two hours, with the last bit on country roads and finally a long winding gravel driveway with potholes and mud puddles and the sense that my Dad is concerned about his new car, scratchless still, and my Mom, squirming in the back seat, uncomfortable with arthritis.  The whole experience proves to be this way, trying and unpleasant.  We exit the wooded drive and see a ramshackle array of fencing, wooded pens, and scattered buildings with a house in the middle. The barking is penetrating like the cold and mud we slush around in.  The president and founder, Mary B., is busy when we arrive so we separate and venture out to the numerous dog pens.  They have large, roomy shelters, all filled with barkers.  My sister is bit in the first five minutes by a beagle who grabbed and tugged at the fleshy part of her hand.  I am snapped at by a hound who otherwise wags his tail, wags it so hard and often that it has chipped away a line of paint at the side of his green house.

I volunteer every Tuesday morning at the (not so) Humane Society where I live, and every Tuesday I struggle with the fact that I cannot take a cute Chihuahua home, or the German wire-haired pointer who sits so sweetly at his gate.  Yet here, there is not a single dog I would want to take home.  Mary estimates that forty percent of the dogs, and fifty percent of the cats are considered “unadoptable.” The majority of the dogs are hunting dogs, large hounds and small beagles.  If they did not live here you might see them as I’ve seen so often, tied to a doghouse in the woods with five others; dogs solely used for hunting a few times a year.  Many are rough and crude and a few concerningly shy, retreating to their houses when I hold my camera up. Caring For Creatures is also one of the only organizations to accept cats with feline leukemia and FIV, as well as senior citizens and feral cats.  Thanks to Mary, the dogs and cats can live here with fresh food and water, shelter, human and animal companionship.  The cats, grouped according to health and age, share amazingly clean and comfortable rooms with screened porches and numerous perches, snuggle beds, and rocking chairs for visitors.

Mary estimates that thirty animals are adopted each year from the sanctuary, but these adoptees are mostly puppies and kittens.  They are hopeful the day I visited that a litter of nine beagle/hound pups would find homes.  Were it not for the attention of a stranger and the charitable life Mary has established, these puppies would be dead in the frosty waters of a nearby river where a young man had them bagged and ready to dump.  They grace the cover of the holiday newsletter and the last page features pictures of each with information about the breed, potential size, and an ad for Doggie Manners Class.

This well-run sanctuary also features numerous ways for individuals to become involved should they not be able to adopt a pet or volunteer.  Charlie’s Gift is a reserve fund that is used to cover emergency medical care for animals.  Donations are tax-deductible and Mary ads that, “Your gift will save an animal who has no one but us to help them.  Your sharing will make a difference.”  Differences have been made for at least two dogs featured in the brochure.  Charlie, a black lab mix, hit by a car at eight weeks of age, is the namesake for the fund.  He received medical care with the sanctuaries help and lived three healthy years until seizures overcame him.  Blue, a Blue Tick Hound, was a recipient of “Charlie’s Gift”, and received veterinary care for a broken femur.  He is now living in the loving home of Daniel, a volunteer at the sanctuary.  Caring  For Creatures has also established a Sponsorship Program to help with the minimum $5000 monthly cost for caring for the 150-200 animals, or $30 per month, per animal.  A sponsor is a group or individual willing to provide the financial support for one or more animals on a monthly basis.  With a monetary gift comes a Sponsorship Certificate with a photograph of the adopted animal or animals, as well as a brief biography with regular updates throughout the year.  There is also the Furry Friends Fraternity, School Programs, Youth Dog Club, Kids Club Sponsor Program, Pet Therapy, Obedience Classes, The Rocking Chair Club, Radio Show, and various fundraising events throughout the year.  Mary is dependent on the numerous volunteers who each contribute up to six hours a day.  The back of each newsletter has a “Calling All Volunteers” section and a list of specific needs with suggestions for those living far away.  My father was so impressed by Caring For Creatures, and so overwhelmed at the need for such places that he made a large monetary donation the following week.

It is overwhelming to see the quality of care provided for these animals by Mary.  I would guess that the dogs and cats living at Caring For Creatures don’t think much about living anywhere better.

UPDATE:

I talked to Paige at Caring For Creatures this week to see how things are going.  Like many rescues, they too are busy, and sadly, at capacity.  She said they are seeing animals surrendered by people who are losing their homes due to eviction or foreclosure and moving to places that don’t allow pets.  People are also struggling to manage the costs of care and feed for their pets, so CFC is helping with that by collecting and distributing food.  If you want to learn how you can help she suggested the following: check out their website which has  “Donate,” “How to Help,” and “Volunteer” links.  They are in need of many things, including bedding and cleaning supplies, but she says the most helpful contribution is monetary.  It now costs $1000 a day to maintain their facility.   

You can also find them  here  if you’re on Facebook.  

Paige also shared a success story: their first adoption of 2012 was an FIV positive cat named Orion.  She (not he) is the first cat with this illness to be adopted in a decade!  That’s great news for Orion!  Thanks, Caring For Creatures!

Sometimes people ask me why I’m still single.  One guy said he can’t believe I haven’t found anyone (he repeated himself several times for emphasis).  My Dad said he’s not sure how I’ll ever find anyone (given the losers that he’s seen running around).  These comments were not prompted by me.  Others have said I am intimidating, and others still say unapproachable.  My former sister-in-law once said she hopes I’ll consider dating men who aren’t necessarily white collar and sporting a luxury car.  I’ve broadened my scope, I really have, I tell her.  Now I’ll go out with any guy who knows how to spell and write a decent sentence.  I didn’t think I’d ever date a man who hadn’t graduated from college, but I have now, twice!  I’ve totally lowered my standards, I tell her.

But when a handsome man popped up on match.com recently (I’m not a member but still get their spam), I clicked his bio to find this beauty that he must have written by himself,

“I am looking for a attractive young woman that knows how to treat a man good.”

I can’t respond or point out the error of what I’m sure is some kind of Southern charm, but my sister shared what her response would be: “As soon as you begin treating the English language with the same degree of respect that you are looking for, we can talk about how you should be treated.”

Wurd.

In case you’ve been missing my summer time bluebird posts, I thought I’d pay an off season tribute to one of my favorite birds.  They seem more briliant this time of year, set against the gray winter sky, and I am ever thankful that they keep their blue feathers and not molt or migrate like so many others.  Watching bluebirds should be prescribed for those with seasonal affective disorder.

For those of you who like a juicier post, check back!  I’m on it!

I tossed out the idea of a sunrise hike for New Year’s Day and it took hold.  My new friend, Matt, who seems always open and ready for adventures was up for it (and he’s just a friend, really).  We drove partway up the mountain behind my house then hiked the rest in pure darkness save for headlights.  Carlie led the way as she always does –my fearless girl!  Myself, always directionally-challenged was wrong about the position of the overlook, so instead we watched the sunrise through the bare tree limbs.  We welcomed 2012 with words, pictures, admiration, champagne and cinnamon bread (before Phoebe grabbed the rest).  The header picture is from what I call the overlook, really an old hangliding ramp, which looks not toward the sunrise, but on this morning toward a sleepy Roanoke.

Here’s a pretty shot of Phoebe:

I followed the morning hike up with the FROTY (First Ride of the Year) at Carvins Cove.  It was a muddy mess but lots of fun.

A party, dinner with friends, a hike with the dogs, and new paint in the kitchen rounded out my weekend. I’d fully planned on adding a salmon-pink to my entry wall, with an aqua-blue to the opposite kitchen wall.  But when at Lowes I found “Burning Love” and well, it was love.  It’s my new painted wall and it’s blessed my kitchen with a cheerful brightness.  Besides, I love the hope of a double entendre possible in the year to come, and my new Bicycle Parking sign (see below).

Happy New Year, Everyone!

We ate pizza, played with the dogs, and chatted before plowing into the making of dog bones, chocolate bars, Russian Tea and salt scrubs, some infused with lavender, some with orange and rose hip.  The girls got to take jars of each home with them.  We listened to Radiohead, Nikki’s choice, and I let her cut my hair; she’s enamoured with hair, hair styles, extensions, feathers… Sierra sat in the bathroom with us and she said, “Are you like 18 years old?  I think you’re like 18 to 26  or so.”

On a day when work had made me feel very old, but not very wise, it was a sweet little gift, not just the comment, but the energy of these little beings.  I hope we’re on the start of a long tradition and a relationship infused with some of those unique big sister, female-only times.

They had big plans to stay up all night, but me, I was in bed by 10.

Here’s a picture of a lavender salt scrub:

I pulled my Dad’s old drill out of hiding weeks ago and went a little crazy making these feeders for the birds.  I lined them all up to take this photo, but most are going, with homemade suet to friends and family for Christmas:

And here’s a little bike-inspired ornament I made earlier for my friend, Laura, who’s the Surlygirl-Queen at making bike parts look cute:

Happy Holidays, everyone!

I celebrated my birthday with the family over Thanksgiving break.  We had Ethiopian food, which mom and dad had (very surprisingly) never tried.  That made it even more fun.  The owner and the waitress were gracious and warm too.  Here’s our meal:

We had a wonderful visit with my sister in Maryland.  I love seeing my sister, but also getting to hang with her yard ornaments.

Tonight a good friend organized a small dinner for me.  That’s never happened before and I’m so thankful that she made the effort and that she even had my day on her radar.  I forgot her birthday.

And yesterday before work I sneaked out for a quick spin up Bent Mountain and on my return I reminisced about the first times I rode the mountain and had the extreme pleasure of cruising back down.  It’s beautiful.  Sometimes it makes me cry.  I have lived in some flat-landed, corn-field filled countryside before and that makes me all the more appreciative of this heavenly little town that’s home to me now.  I’m so lucky, and feeling happy too.  I don’t mind that extra year so much.