Humans have an odd way of showing affection, one moment you seem to be snuggling and the next you become very loud and angry.

Is it that you walk on only two of your four legs and therefore use half of your time balancing? Or, is your heart so busy keeping you upright, it forgets to allow you to feel?

But, allow me to back up and introduce myself.

I am Sierra – The Horse That Saved a Life After the War

I am called Sierra, like the tall majestic mountains that border California and Nevada. I arrived into this area of northern California when my Mom was ready to have me join the herd as an adult.

Mom, a member of the Cleveland Bay herd, was a wonderful role model and taught me compassion and patience.

She reminded me to be kind and remember, when things get difficult as they seem to do, difficulties are only temporary. Endurance is forever. 

My father was a proud member of the Lipizzaner herd, world known during World War II when General George Patton rescued the herd to safety from the invading Russian forces.

He was a proud and dignified stallion, with the grace and beauty the Lipizzaner’s are well known for.

I remember the day I was loaded into a trailer, my mother, as so many mother’s do, grieved as I was taken away.

My father, reminded me to remember the lessons they had taught me and to be good to my humans.

My first family of humans seemed to enjoy watching me kick up my hoofs, they’d often sit on the fence railing and simply watch us.

The first few years at their ranch were filled with joy as I was able to frolic in green pastures and enjoy the company of other yearlings.

There was one stallion I found quite charming. The humans laughed whenever we would nicker at each other, standing nose to nose.

We became close friends until the day he was sold.

I mourned that day, as he and several of my pasture friends were sold to humans wanting to race around barrels or pull fancy carts.

I was still untrained and had not carried a saddle or a human across the fields. I became quite lonely and then concerned as the grass became scarce.

My first family of humans seemed to go through some of the worst loss of their heart feels I have ever witnessed.

They often raised their voices much too loud and there were many times water seemed to flow down their faces. They seldom came to visit me anymore. 

I would often grow quite hungry as the grass had been gone from the dry soil for many months.

The hunger pains became quite intolerable and my coat lost its shine. I noticed my hip bones beginning to protrude at my sides.

Standing in the mud, my hooves had become quite long. I thought things were pretty tough until I learned there was life growing inside my belly.

Dayton was born into a world of hunger and neglect. I did my best to feed him and care for him.

Nursing him and showering him with all the love my parents had shared. Then, I learned how lucky we were to have each other.

A trailer pulled up to the ranch and the human must have lacked heart feels as he loaded Dayton and I into a trailer.

After a long ride, he opened the gate and the ramp smashed onto the mud and manure below. This was an awful place.

Mares often mourning their young ones. Many of the youngsters left to fend for themselves.

One in particular was taken from his mother while he should have been nursing. I wondered what happened to his mare.

Why would she leave her youngster without a chance of survival. Later that day, I learned of something called a Kill pen which was where we were.

Then I learned from one of the stallions, many of the pregnant mares or those whom had recently given birth were sent to something called a slaughter house to face a ghastly fate.

Several of the youngsters were sent there, too.

My heart feels began to break. Was this to be the fate for Dayton and I?

I could not hold my head up and the pride I had once felt left my starving body. Then the young orphan came over to nurse.

While I barely had enough milk for Dayton, I could not allow this newborn, Clayton, to starve to death. It was difficult enough to know his mare was not able to protect her newborn.

In the confusion of the feedlot, he had the hide ripped off his leg, leaving an open wound.  Somehow, my body yielded enough milk to feed them both.

I tried to give them as much love and compassion as I could find in my weakening body. My heart feels were struggling.

I knew I didn’t have much more to give when another trailer pulled into the feedlot.

This woman had a much softer voice. She walked over with saddened eyes to view the two foals by my side.

I knew she realized only one could be mine, Clayton was quite different and much younger than Dayton.

She pointed to us and I remember the fear as she tried to come near my face. The kill pen human had hurt my face as he threw a circle of rope around me, trying to separate me from my two youngsters.

I would not allow a human to hurt them, even if it meant my own life.

Surprisingly, the mare human did not separate us. She loaded Clayton, Dayton, and I into a trailer to take the long ride over the mountains again.

We arrived in Northern California in a place called El Dorado Hills. El Dorado is legendary as the place where gold was found.

The gold I found was food and shelter for my boys. By now, I was too weak to hold my head up and tell the humans about my family upbringing.

The skin on my body clung to my weakened bones and my hooves had grown much too long from standing in the mud at the feedlot.

In the weeks that followed, we were given all sorts of attention by humans. Although, I was not prepared to trust them, especially near my face or my youngsters.

My hooves had been trimmed and I was so proud of the youngsters as they began to prance around in our enclosure.

There were other horses nearby, but we were not allowed to be near each other because of the parasites we had invade our weakened bodies at the kill pen.

Yet, the humans seemed to be kind and kept their distance until I decided to allow them closer. I was curious as to what they wanted of us, and what our fate would be.

Many sunsets passed, and the food, water, and attention continued. I began hearing the words “Volunteer” and “Welcome to All About Equine, Rescue” as more humans passed by our enclosure.

My feet were beginning to heal, the abscesses in my two front hooves had finally drained and my hooves were beginning to harden.

My coat became shiny as my strength regained. My two youngsters were well cared for and I finally decided to get to know these humans, and there were many of them!

They came in two shifts, one in the morning and one in the evening, each and every day. In the rain and the hot summer sun. In the early morning and just as the sun prepared to set each afternoon.

They seemed to all be trained in how to approach us, and they knew not to be too aggressive. “Walk as if you have lost your keys”, I’d hear them say. Be sure the water troughs are all full and there is always plenty of fresh water.

The Veterinarian gave us all the best medical care we could have hoped for. Eventually, we were able to join the herd in the larger pasture.

I was proud of my youngsters, and eventually they would make many happy herd mates.

I would often see other horses arrive at the rescue. I tried my best to tell them they were now safe and to trust the humans with their heart feels.

For the first time, in a very long time, I felt loved and appreciated. I held my head up high and did my best to share that love with the youngsters arriving at the rescue.

Interestingly, the humans seemed to find their heart feels at the rescue, too. Many humans wanted to nuzzle and enjoy brushing the herd.

I became familiar with the rope tie the volunteers would gently wrap around my neck and nose, realizing how fearful I had been.

I began to enjoy the attention that followed, as they lead me into a large sand arena to brush my shiny coat and pick the stones from my hooves.

I heard laughter and their voices seemed to join together as they mucked the fields and fed the herd.

Later, they would gather to sit in the shade of an umbrellas and share stories of their own adventures.

I especially enjoyed over hearing them speak about their youngsters and adventures they shared with their own families.

Occasionally, human youngsters arrived at the rescue to sing “Happy Birthday” and search for eggs the hens often hid in the barn.

I’d be especially proud when the human youngsters came out to meet me or one of the other gentle giants at the rescue.

By now, there were several draft horses in the field, and the other smaller horses respected our grandeur and treated us accordingly.

By this time, Dayton and Clayton had grown into handsome horses and would begin their own adventures.

I became the matriarch of the herd, caring for the youngsters, yearlings, and others saved from the heartless kill pen buyers.

I was sad to learn there was more than one in our area, preying on the emotions of human who still had heart feels.

I did my best to console them when they lost their family, while trying to teach them proper manners for the benefit of the humans and the herd.  

As more horses arrived at the rescue, so did mules, chickens, goats, and eventually dogs. I learned of fires which had burned nearby fields, leaving humans and animals homeless.

The drought took away the food for many others. While some of them lost their families due to finances or death of a rancher.

I tried my best to care for them all, including some of the sad humans needing to find their happiness again.

Then a group of humans arrived with many more sad heart feels than I had ever experienced from a human.

They were called Veterans and their heart feels ran deep and sad. I watched as they joined for coffee and donuts, learning how to safely approach the herd.

I was curious as to why their hearts were so injured. Had they been to a kill pen, too? Witnessing the death of someone they cared for?

I felt their pain and wanted to give them comfort. One man seemed especially injured. He did not speak and his body seemed weak from pain inside.

I felt it deeply in my heart feels. I wanted to tell him it would be okay. He is safe now. So, I assigned myself to him.

He began brushing me and caring me. I played with him as he pointed to the left and I followed his hand as he directed me without a word.

I began to wonder if he was able to speak, or if the war had taken his voice. After several days of playing together, I witnessed a miracle.

The man placed two of his hands on my side and stood in silence. I turned to see him as he gazed across my withers at another veteran, when I heard him say, “Welcome home brother.”

His heart feels had broken through the pain of war.  My heart feels felt his kindness as he opened his heart and words came from his throat for the first time, I am told, in a very long time.

Here is my New Year’s wish, If you have heart feels that hurt, volunteer and open your heart to another creature who can feel your pain. Maybe we can heal together?

To all of who volunteer, Happy New Years and thank you for all you do.

Sierra died in 2024, but her legacy will live on as long as the rescue and the memories of her herd.