582 and 581

I walked through the aisles on a chilly Easter Saturday. My heart ached already for the horses that would be lost this day. I started with the loose horses, as is my normal routine. I stopped at each pen to thoroughly exam each horse and to catalog them in my brain. A pair of sorrel mares stood together watching the people walk by. I had to stop. I couldn’t (and still can’t) figure out what was wrong with both. I have never seen horses that obese before. They had normal quarter horse feet but their bodies were massively fat from the needs up and even had plump checks.

I saw paints, bays, palominos, donkeys, sorrels. Everything was standing in pens, whinnying and milling in their pens.

I kept walking the aisles, stopping to look at each horse. And there she was, standing in the corner of her pen. Hip Number 582 with her baby Hip Number 581. Thin, matted hair covered both momma and baby. I’m sure I stood in front of their pen for five minutes without moving, looking at every detail. The baby had a crocked left leg. My heart sunk. The baby constantly moved but the momma tried to stay as far in the corner as possible. As other horses milled in the adjoining pens, she stood her ground with depression in her eyes. She wouldn’t look at anyone but made sure to stay near the baby.

I continued on my perusal of the loose horses but I was drawn to 582. So thin, so neglected, so unloved. I noticed someone pull an orange ticket from one of the pens. I immediately went back to 582’s pen to see if she too had a ticket. Sure enough a ticket was stuffed in the container.

2 black mares
Miguel Hernendez
Alvord, IA

Bile rose in my throat. Terrible thoughts ran through my head. I put the ticket back and continued wandering, looking at each horse but constantly thinking of the thin black mare with a baby by her side.

The auction start time neared so I got my buyer number and found a seat. Luckily I met up with friends and we all sat together. We chatted through the opened consignment horses and grumbled about prices and the behavior of the riders. I tried to stay as relaxed as possible.

As more and more horses ran through the ring, the audience dwindled. My heart started to race as I realized half of the spectators were already gone and the loose horses hadn’t even started. Then there was a pause. The auctioneer announced they would begin loose horses.

The bile rose in my throat again, my heart started racing, and my palms started sweating. I checked for my buyer number. I tried keeping track of buyer numbers with no avail. I kicked myself for not bringing a notebook. Yuppy or no yuppy, I’d at least have the details. I couldn’t talk. Luckily my friends realized I wasn’t up for much chatting.

As each horse ran through the ring, I became more agitated. When will she run through? When, when, when? Who will bid on her? What will happen to her? How much will she go for? Who will bid on her? What’s going to happen to her?

One yearling colt and a mini donkey went as no value. I thought about raising my hand but knew I couldn’t handle bringing in a yearling stud colt or an unhandled donkey. I felt terrible knowing that not raising my hand could possibly have sealed their fate.

More horses ran through the ring and more people disappeared from the audience, bored with the prices of the horses.

Then the double doors opened and 582 walked into the ring. A hush fell over the few remaining people in the stands. The auctioneer started near $50 (I’m guessing; it’s a blur so I don’t remember). In an instant the auctioneer dropped the price to $10. My hand rose for the $10. At the same time, someone else raised their hand. I’m guessing they felt bad and didn’t want to her to go for no value. The auctioneer screamed $15 for the other individual. My mind raced. I bid against a kill buyer for Bo one month ago. Was I bidding against a kill buyer? The auctioneer looked at me. The price was $20. I nodded my head. The auctioneer scanned the crowd, slammed the gavel on the counter, pointed to me, and said “SOLD! What’s your number dear?”

Luckily I had somehow managed to pull my buyer number out and displayed my number. I was worried my hands would shake too much for them to read my number. The auction staff rushed 582 out through a second set of double doors. Relief swelled over me.

In hobbled 581, the crippled daughter to 582. The auctioneer looked right at me and started the bidding at $25. I shook my head no. Why would I pay more for a crippled baby. I don’t need any more babies. My friend said, “Start at $5.” The auctioneer took that as me wanting the baby for $25. He looked around at the remaining crowd and said “SOLD”. WHAT?!?! I told him “No.” Of course no one can hear me. Luckily my friend told the auctioneer “No, I said start at $5!”.

The auctioneer started the bidding again at $5. Someone raised their hand (I’m guessing the same person who had bid for 582 in the first place. The auctioneer looked at me. I shook my head. The person who bid on 582 (I’m guessing because I couldn’t hear) said they would rather I have the filly. The auctioneer asked if I would take 581 for $5. I nodded. DAMNIT. What am I going to do?

I started to panic. How was I going to get them home? My friend’s friend was there with a trailer so we left the stands to find them. I was in a bit of a panic. What had I done? We found my friend’s friend and asked if they could haul the mother/daughter combo. “No.” They had to be in a different town shortly and couldn’t squeeze in the trip.

Panic. Well, guess I’ll have to make the trek home, hook up the trailer, and head back.

Luckily my friend is not deterred quickly. She suggested we go out and look at our new acquisitions. I was still shaking from bidding on 582. We wandered through the pens. I heard the loudspeaker telling the auction staff what pen to put horses.

We found 582 and 581 in a pen where the auction staff were moving horses. What did I get myself in to? Would I even be able to touch them? They didn’t seem interested. We neared them and both momma and baby trotted away from us. We approached again, momma and baby again trotted away. As we were looking at the pair, the auction staff were rushing a loose horse through the aisles into a pen, beating and yelling at the horse. Why not just put a halter on and ask the horse to go into the pen? But I didn’t say anything and stood there like a log.


My friend then decided that 582 and 581 needed food while we tried to find a ride home. They looked around for some hay. There was a round bale in another pen. My friends stopped the auction staff after rushing another horse into a pen.

While they asking for hay, I approached 582. 581 wouldn’t come near. I stopped at her shoulder and talked quiet nonsense to her. She stood with 581 tucked behind her on the far side. I raised my hand to ask permission for a touch. She stood. I gently reached out and placed a fingertip on her shoulder. She stood. I placed my entire hand on her shoulder. She stood. I rubbed my hand along her shoulder. She stood. I worked my hand up her neck. She stood but turned her head away. I stopped. I started at her withers. She stood. I worked my way up her neck. She stood. I took my other hand and touched her head. She stood. I rubbed my hand on her neck and head. I curled my arm under her head and my other arm over her head. She stood. I hugged. She stood. I fought back tears. 582 was home.

I let go of 582’s head and realized my dear sweet friends had piles of hay for the mother/daughter pair. The horses wandered over but were wary. They snatched a few bites and moved to the other side of the pen.

By that time, the auction was finished. I decided I’d better pay for 582 and 581. My bill, $25; $20 for the mare (582) and $5 for the filly (581). For two lives, I paid $25. I’ve spent more on stupid stuff. How can two lives only cost $25? My friend gave me the $5 for the filly. Speechless. There are no words to explain my gratitude. I wasn’t the only one saving a life today.

After paying for the mares, my friend spotted someone we both recognized. They too were saving lives. They negotiated with the auction to take the two no values. By this time I was totally confused but somewhere my brain recognized that my friend had discussed with these same caring people transport for all the horses. Apparently these caring people didn’t live far from me. Again the wave of gratitude I felt for my friend and these caring people was overwhelming. I stood dumbfounded as everyone chatted.

A trailer was on its way. A ride was secured. The two mares were coming home. My friends had to leave but I stayed with the caring new friends and waited for the trailer. My face felt flushed. What had I done? What was I doing?

We went to the pens to collect the No Value horse, No Value donkey, 582, and 581. The new friends wanted the horses closer to the loading area while we waited for the trailer. The No Value horse was the yearling stud colt. Why no one bid, I don’t know. He will someday be a beauty. We moved the colt closer to the loading area. He moved easily and quickly through the maze of pens and aisles. Then it was time to move the donkey. I was no help in moving him. The new friends are experienced with horses and donkeys and it amazed me at the calm attitude and persistence they had in moving this very stubborn little mini donkey. My hats off to them. By the time the little donkey was in a closer pen, the trailer had arrived.

The new friends loaded the colt with ease and with much pushing and shoving, loaded the donkey. It's my turn!

We grabbed a spare halter from the auction. The driver of the trailer walked up to 582. I didn’t think she’d let him halter her but she didn’t budget when he neared. She followed without a struggle and the baby stayed glued to her momma’s side.

Butterflies swirled in my stomach. How were they going to load? I didn’t want anyone getting hurt. I should be the one leading the mare. If someone gets hurt, it should be me. But the gentleman leading her lead her to the waiting trailer and she hopped right in, followed immediately by the baby. I was amazed and relieved. The relief swelled over me and I started shaking (hopefully not visibly).

582 and 581 were on their way home. Because my friends were at the auction to help and support me, I offered them the chance to name the mother daughter pair. They chose Savanna for 582 (the mother) and Sahara for 581 (the crippled filly).

My gratitude and appreciation for all those that helped me to bring Savanna and Sahara home. I will ever be thankful for your kindness. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.