Whiskey is home!

The animal control officer, Jamie, called at 10am this morning "I've got a deputy, we're on the way, meet us there in 10." After being up since 5am in anticipation and worry about how we were going to get our hands on him, we were off and running. We got there right after Jamie and the deputy, halter, lead rope, and lasso in hand. Jamie took a look at him and said there was nothing she could do as far as prosecuting the owner because the horse was not emaciated. It didn't matter that he had been locked in his stall for three months with access to food and water only when caretaker "felt like it", and was standing on two feet of his own urine and feces. It didn't matter that he had obviously been beaten and abused. According to the law, this was nothing that she could prove in court. And unless he was terribly starved and on his death bed, there was nothing she could do. But there was plenty that we could do. We could get him out of that stall, into the trailer, and take him home. Somehow.

With one person on the outside of three stall walls to force him around to me at the door, I was able to slip the lasso over his head after just a few minutes. The ceiling was only inches above his head, and throwing the lasso would have only encouraged explosions and injuries. Once the lasso was securely around his neck I handed the one end to Glenn who was equipped with heavy gloves. As he kept Whiskey's head to me and kicking back hooves away, I walked sideways with eyes downcast down the lasso to Whiskeys head. He wasn't happy and I'm sure it took almost Herculean strength on Glenn's part, but I was able to get a lead rope attached to one side of his halter. Then Jamie came up on the other side and got a rope on the right. This was still not enough to get the little guy out of the stall. We then got a long cotton rope and got it wrapped around his butt. With the deputy pulling on the right, me on the left, Glenn on the lasso, and Jamie on the butt rope, we eventually wrestled him out the door.

Once in the sun, we let him stand still for a bit and relax. He kept squinting his eyes to get them used to the bright daylight. How pathetically sad is it for an animal who should be allowed to run wild to have to take a moment to get used to sunlight?? Walking to the trailer went without a hitch, but still required the butt rope. Fourteen months old, and he has no clue how to lead. Getting him on the trailer was easier than getting him out of the stall, and once safely on board he dove into the hay net.

He rode well on the windy back road to home, but he's so small I doubt we would have felt it if he had made a fuss. Once the ramp on the trailer was down, he backed slowly out without a problem. He took one look around at the pastures just turning green with Spring and at our other horses in the far back field who were now curiously watching and wondering what Mom brought home this time. Then he calmly walked up to the cattle pen which is to be his home until he gains some trust in us and I feel comfortable letting him out in the big pasture. He ate every blade of grass he could find, nibbled on the hay, drank two buckets of water, and played with the dogs. We saw him from the house trotting around his pen then throwing one buck after another just testing his legs and new-found freedom. He was exhilarating in the fact that he COULD trot and buck. And so were we.

Pictures were taken, then accidentally deleted from the camera. It's dark now and late, so more pic opportunities tomorrow!