November has been hard. Our sweet old, boarded horse, Taz, crossed the rainbow bridge. He was in his early 30's. If you were to look at a conversion chart of horse age to human age, that would make Taz almost 90. He was losing weight, stumbling frequently, and was blind.
Before I go further, let me introduce myself. I’m Maria Chamberlain – co-owner with my husband Brian of the Inn at Oxbow Acres in Milan, New Hampshire. We’re a small working farm and we provide exceptional lodging in our beautiful log cabin located near the White Mountain National Forest. We offer our lovely property as an event venue as well where our animal friends may occasionally photo-bomb your event. 😊
Back to Taz, the elderly Appaloosa who lived at this property for over 22 years.
His owner loved him enough to have him safely put down before winter. She loved US enough not to risk us getting hurt if Taz slipped on ice while we were leading him in and out of the barn. It was a good decision, but definitely a hard one - not just for us but for the rest of the herd. We knew horses are intuitive creatures and experience emotion, but we were amazed at the extent of equine emotional intelligence. Let me tell you what happened.
It was a beautiful day – the clear azure sky matched Taz’s turquoise halter against his multi-colored face. I went to the upper field to indicate where the hole would ultimately be made for Taz’s final resting place. My heart was heavy. I actually had never been present when any of our pets were put down. It was always Brian who took them to the vet and handled that process. Now the vet had come to the farm, and it wasn’t to be avoided. Our dear friend, Eileen, needed support. Her sister and two other friends walked up with Taz and the young vet. I captured some final pictures of this beautiful Appaloosa and his dear owner all the while keeping the tears at bay.
“I’m going to give him a shot to relax him. Hold onto his halter,” the vet told Eileen, "and then as soon as I give him the concentrated phenobarbital, we’ll switch places, and I’ll help him ease to the ground. His vital functions will stop soon after.”
Just as the tranquilizer was administered, I remembered from a book I’d read that it would be helpful for the herd mates to see their friend dead because otherwise they would always wonder what happened to him. I ran to bring the other two horses and the two ponies up to the high field, and once again, I missed seeing his final passing. I wasn’t trying to avoid it, but in the four minutes of my absence, Taz was gone.
Shannon, the mare came up and stopped dead in her tracks – astounded. Finn, my quarter horse looked suddenly stricken – the expression of horror and concern I’ve seen on people at the death of a loved one hung on his sweet face. Tucker, the youngest, came up, backed away, then watched from a short distance. But Chester the mini – little Chester bent over Taz sniffing carefully and looking up at us imploringly. Finn came closer and Chester snapped and shooed him off. Finn didn’t really back away, but he knew he couldn’t touch Taz anymore. The slow minutes passed by as Chester took it all in. And then – the strangest thing – he looked up at each one of the human bystanders and twisted his lips as if he was silently mouthing the question, “What happened??? Why won’t Taz get up?”
“Did you see that?” I asked the others. They had. So strange. So moving. It was as if he was in total disbelief. He nosed Taz as if encouraging him to stand.
A few minutes later, I decided that I should go get the donkeys, too. After all, Taz’s stall was opposite Charlie’s when we needed to have Charlie temporarily in the barn. Charlie’s mama, Joy, knew Taz but spent less time with him. At that point, the farmer next door had sent a large excavator, and I gave the operator instructions on where to dig the hole. It took me about 10-12 minutes to find the donkeys’ halters and get them from the front field to the back pasture. I led Charlie, and our friend Denise came behind Joy to make sure she was following me. As I crested the first small hill, I saw the horses and ponies clustered in a tight group about 120 yards away.
Do you know about the stages of grief introduced by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross? They don’t necessarily come in order, but sometimes they do: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance.
Denial – that’s what Chester exhibited as he stood over Taz waiting for him to get up. It’s what he was trying to tell us.
The second stage is anger.
As soon as Tucker saw Charlie the donkey, he exploded in anger, and the fire spread to the other three horses. Charging at a full gallop, they ran at Charlie and me. I dropped the lead. Charlie froze momentarily. Then he bolted! In less than 4 seconds, they charged him and there was a cacophony of bucking legs and snorting cries. Charlie and Joy ran wildly with angry horses on their tails. They flew past me, past Denise, and to my surprise – completely past the fence line and into the neighbor’s field and toward the road.
Now I was in disbelief – “How did they get out there?” And just as suddenly, I remembered that the fence had been disconnected, so the excavator could get into the pasture.
Fortunately, that pasture had been fenced off for a few weeks and was full of lush grass. As the horses ran through and passed it, they stopped and turned back, eager to investigate the deep grass. (Thank goodness!) In frustrated frenzy, they began pulling huge clumps and munching nervously - twitching and irritable. It was like a person eating a bag of chips when frustrated!
I was able to pick up Charlie’s lead and get him safely back to his own pasture, and then I returned for Joy who was warily eating and visibly confused.
Eventually everyone got back to where they belonged and eventually in their stalls for the night.
At morning chores, I was greeted by mourning faces. No one was acting themselves. They all wore sad expressions. And at nightfall things looked the same.
Another stage of grief is bargaining where there is the desperate attempt to possibly change what’s happened by doing something. It’s the hope that “if I do X, then maybe I can reverse what just happened.” A horse can’t possibly think that way, can he?
Chester did. In the morning, I typically lead the horses one by one out to the field. Chester didn't want to go out. He halted in the barn aisle, and I had to coax my once little "eager eater" to walk with me outside. After I talked to him and gave him treats, he looked dejected. His usual routine of galloping to the others with his “Little Pony Syndrome” bullishness vanished. Chester wouldn't join the herd. He would walk in Taz’s imaginary footsteps. Remember how the lush field had been fenced off? We allowed the horses to graze in there since Taz’s passing. But Taz hadn’t been in that pasture lately. He was in the north fields, and that was where Chester would go. Nose to the ground, retracing Taz’s steps, he would slowly walk and walk and walk searching for his friend. Perhaps Chester was thinking he’d find Taz if he just followed that scent. Only when his attempt seemed futile would Chester ultimately join the others for the day. This happened for several days.
Chester and Charlie used to egg each other on and wrestle together. I decided to put the ponies back in with the donkeys, and that DID help. Those sweet donkeys were very forgiving of the recent terrifying incident. They acted as if nothing had happened between them. Soon Charlie and Chester were hanging together and pushing each other around like teenage brothers. Maybe Chester WAS a little more aggressive as he worked off his emotional angst, but Charlie handled it well.
The following day, I brought the donkeys into the greener pasture with all the others. Everyone was fine together - a huge relief.
The weekend came and so did the visible stage of depression. Chester lay on his side in the field – staring off in space. I hadn’t seen that look since my teenagers were heartbroken by their first loves. The pony literally looked vacant and melancholy. And then Shannon, the huge Chestnut mare, did the SAME thing. Throughout the weekend, both laid down - listless and lonely. Heartbreaking!
Today was a better day – acceptance. Chester still balked at going outside, but once in the pasture, he looked north, but then began a slow trot towards the others in the southwest pasture. It’s getting better. The other horses are looking more like themselves, but still somewhat subdued. It will be interesting to observe how long this grieving process takes.
I tried to understand why Chester took Taz’s passing so hard. Chester and Tucker only knew Taz about 18 months. But as soon as he could, little Chester (who is about 70 in horse years) established himself as boss. Those little hairy legs packed a mean punch in the other horses’ chests, and he strutted around like a Bantam rooster in a flock of full-sized hens. Chester directs the others where to go and when. He’s actually annoying to them sometimes – but it’s funny to watch! It’s one of the things guests love when they come to our property – to see these farm animals interact. It's quite entertaining!
I believe that as herd boss, Chester feels he failed his responsibility to protect his companions . That’s what an alpha stallion does. This adds another layer to his grief. Another theory is that Chester is now the oldest horse on the property. Maybe he senses his own mortality… I’m not a horse psychologist. I know only an inkling about these majestic creatures. But that’s my informal assessment.
I can’t end this blog without giving a tribute to Taz. There’s so many stories I could share. Taz was the most accepting animal on the farm. He accepted Brian and me – the new owners of the property. While the other animals would shy away from strangers, Taz allowed us to pat him right from the get-go. He was the horse who visited with guests, quietly standing for a picture.
When I got my own horse, Finn, he was quarantined from the herd for a while. The other boarders at the time were not exactly cordial and let him know by stiffening, snorting, and squealing at him. Their ears were always flattened toward Finn. But not Taz. Taz went right up to Finn and in horse fashion, he put his arm around Finn’s shoulder and welcomed him into his space. Actually, it was nose to nose, then neck to neck, then allowing Finn to graze by his side, but it was like a guy hug!
When the white donkeys – Charlie and Joy- came, Finn and Shannon were absolutely TERRIFIED! They acted like ghosts or aliens had invaded, and this lasted for weeks! But Taz… Taz was put into the donkey pasture, and as the other horses watched intently from across the arena, he showed them that there was absolutely nothing to fear. When we put Taz back in with the others, he seemed to assure them that he was completely okay and that there was nothing to worry about. Taz was the icebreaker.
We loved Taz’s dappled markings and his pure white behind. Many guests initially thought he was a cow out with the horses. Others thought we shaved him that way. Taz always made for conversation. My favorite memory was of a moonlit but slightly foggy night. I threw some trash in the dumpster. Out of the mist Taz came running toward me, the moonlight shining brightly on his white rump. He was an illuminated Pegasus, and it wasn’t hard to imagine him with wings and taking flight over my wondering head! That’s how I think of him now – an equine angel reminding us all how important it is to welcome strangers.
This is not the typical type of blog you’d expect from a bed and breakfast/event venue. But we are not a typical B&B. We are a small working farm, and we love every creature on it. We hope you’ll come visit and experience the wonder and the magic at The Inn at Oxbow Acres. It’s a gift to live here.
We know people near and far may come across our page, so we like to use this platform to support other small businesses. Some other farm/ranch style wedding venues across the country include:
Cold Spring Farm Visit
Evergreen Ranch Wedding Venue
The Stables at Cypress Creek
Pine Lake Ranch
River House Montana
5 Family Ranch
Evermore Ridge WV
We hope you'll check them out!