Summer Survival

It was a perfect July day. The noonday sun was shining and even the flies seemed to be taking the day off. Our six horses were tied up at the fence at the horse camp in the Finger Lakes National Forest, resting before the afternoon trail ride. Perhaps we were all a little too mellow.

Vida and I on a trail ride the morning of July 9th

I’ve spent most of my life riding. For the past three years Vida, a 14.3 hand appaloosa mare has been my mount. She loves to barrel race, but tolerates her job as a trail guide, keeping my riders and me safe as we navigate the hilly terrain of Central New York. She takes care of me, and I take care of her—putting on her fly mask, applying sunscreen to her pink muzzle, and giving her daily medication. Her former owners neglected to treat her uvitis, leaving her completely blind in her right eye. Her handicap doesn’t slow her down.

I’m not sure if it was her enthusiasm for her job or desire for a vacation, but while the other horses rested, Vida slipped her halter and headed down the trail, wearing nothing but her fly bonnet and turquoise Professional’s Choice Sports Medicine Boots (SMBs). I saw her go. I tried to catch up to her. But she was on a mission.

No big deal, I thought. Horses are herd animals. I had five horses at the campsite and I was going on a trail ride after lunch. With all the green grass, she couldn’t be too far. And there were a lot of hikers on the trail.

We didn’t find her that afternoon.

I spent a sleepless night at the campsite, surrounded by hay and grain. I tried to keep the tragic thoughts out of my head, but the scenarios seemed endless. She was wandering in a 16,212-acre forest filled with ravines, barbed wire fences, and predators. Although rural, the forest is bordered by busy roads. And you never know who may want a free horse. My mind was racing and my heart was numb.

The next day the community kicked in. Friends, phones, and fliers were essential. Especially the friends. Here’s the to-do list if you ever lose a horse. I hope you never need it! Call: local police, animal control, highway department, post office, forest rangers, SPCA, and anyone else you can think of. Post on facebook, craigslist, and any local online news source. Put fliers in mailboxes, on signs, and on bulletin boards. And, if there are local auctions, it’s worth the peace of mind to make the trip. In this case, we also rode the trails with a stallion, hiked, and even recruited the boy scouts! We kept calling, kept posting, kept walking, but after five weeks and a few false alarms, I felt helpless. I was touched by the horse community—they collected reward money and did all they could to support me. But at the end of the day, Vida’s stall stood empty.

As luck would have it, the same week that Vida went missing, I got a job maintaining fence lines and managing cattle in 35 pastures in the National Forest. There was no sign of Vida, but I was always nearby. It’s common for people to report loose cattle and I was sure people would report a loose horse. If someone saw her, I would hear about it.

In fact, in the beginning of August a wonderful woman named Kathy called to report a loose cow on her property, a horse farm bordering the National Forest. I responded to the call and the Kathy made the connection with Vida. On August 10th, her father-in-law’s motion activated hunting camera delivered this shot:

There was no mistaking those SMBs!

For the next two weeks, Kathy worked tirelessly to find my horse. She rode the trails, noted where there was evidence, and baited Vida with grain and hay. I finally slept at night knowing that Vida was under Kathy’s care. Each day there were fresh signs and our hopes rose.

On August 26th, seven weeks after trotting down the trail, Kathy walked up to Vida and put on a halter. I raced to her farm, and there was my mare, looking more tired than wild.

Vida, after seven weeks loose in the forest

She had lost a lot of weight, her face was scratched up, her feet were long, and she had some rain rot, but otherwise she was in perfect health. No welts from flies, sunburn, or infection in her blind eye. Even our domestic horses have the instincts to survive.

To me, one of the greatest miracles of this story is the SMBs. Vida returned from her trek completely sound. Her legs were unscathed, which is more than I can say for the boots. The SMBs were still on tight, protecting her from rubs, but one had a gash on it. If she hadn’t been wearing the boots, the gash would have sliced her tendon.

It took a few weeks for the rain rot to clear up and the grain to kick in, but we’re back on the trail now. In fact, Vida was a star during the fall roundup—her first time working cattle. Her summer spent studying cows really paid off! Vida has a new name: Pura Vida. A Puerto Rican saying that expresses this horse’s love of life and ability to survive.