Chapter 15
I was thinking about getting up when Willow appeared with the third barrowful of manure.
‘Didn’t think you’d still be here,’ she said, looking surprised to see me.
‘I got distracted talking to a friend. Thanks again for being honest with me this morning. It was really helpful. Do you have time to take me round the horses and tell me what you know about them all?’
She smiled and her eyes sparkled. ‘I’d love to.’
‘I should probably tell you a bit about me too. I’m an animal-assisted therapist. Do you know what that means?’
‘You give therapy to poorly animals?’ There wasn’t much conviction behind her suggestion and I had a sudden image of sitting beside a horse and asking how its week had been.
‘The therapy’s for people but through them spending time with animals.
I’ve worked with various animals but my speciality is horses as they’re so attuned to our emotions and non-verbal signals.
I’ve used them for so many situations – clients with addictions, eating disorders, depression, PTSD, ADHD, autism, anxiety.
They stroke the horses, groom them, feed them, walk them, even talk to them – whatever’s needed to help that individual – and I’m there to facilitate what they learn about themselves through their interactions.
That’s a brief explanation. Believe me, I could talk for hours about this stuff. ’
‘That’s what you’ll be doing here?’
‘Eventually. The priority has to be getting the attraction up and running to maximise on the summer trade, but I hope to start the therapy side before the end of the year.’
Mam and I had agreed not to tell Willow about the cows just yet as we didn’t want to risk the news spreading prematurely and visitors turning up expecting to see cows and being disappointed that they weren’t here or weren’t ready for the public.
‘I’m guessing you like horses, then?’ Willow asked.
‘I love horses.’ I heaved myself up to my feet. ‘I was raised on a farm which my parents owned…’
As we walked towards Big Field, I told Willow about my background, being raised on a farm, my riding experience, and how my mam was now my business partner.
‘Have you used heavy horses for your therapy?’ Willow asked.
‘Yes. There was a Shire and a Clydesdale where I worked and they’re perfect because of their gentle nature, friendliness and patience. I’m not an expert on all breeds of heavy horses, but I’m a quick learner.’
We’d reached Big Field and the five heavy horse mares.
‘I recognise the Clydesdale so she must be Athena,’ I said, ‘and I recognise the two Shires but don’t know which is which.’
‘The brown one is Hera and the grey one is Demeter, who’s a rescue. The dapple grey one is a Percheron called Duchess and the smaller chestnut-coloured one is a Norman Cob – also a rescue – called Gladys. Duchess and Gladys are besties.’
Any remaining worries about Willow’s shock revelations drifted away as I stroked the horses.
I loved how gentle and affectionate heavy horses were – something that had always surprised my clients considering their size.
I didn’t know what Gladys’s and Demeter’s circumstances had been but I was so glad they’d been rescued and brought here where they’d so clearly been loved and cared for.
We moved into Tall Stone next where the three male heavy horses were kept.
‘With them all being different breeds, I’ve managed to work out who’s who,’ I told Willow. ‘The black one’s a Shire called Samson, the black roan’s a Clydesdale called Apollo and the chestnut one is Maverick – a Suffolk Punch.’
‘Spot on,’ Willow said, opening the gate so I could meet them properly. ‘Samson and Maverick were both rescues.’
After I’d spent some time with Samson, Apollo and Maverick, we moved onto Lane End.
‘You’ve probably worked out that the pony’s Ziggy,’ Willow said.
‘Icarus and Scout are brothers. Icarus has the white diamond and he’s a year older than Scout.
Shelley had originally only wanted heavy horses here but Ziggy came up as a rescue and she couldn’t say no.
A few months later, she heard about Icarus and Scout needing a home so she brought them here too.
She hated not being able to take more, especially when there’s the space for them, but there was only so much she could do without staff and money. ’
I stroked Scout’s neck and my heart melted as he nuzzled closer.
It would be a privilege to look after the eleven horses at Hazelwick Farm and especially the seven who’d been rescued.
Mam and I would make the farm a financial success so that we could say yes to other rescue opportunities, opening our hearts and our home to animals in need.