I feel the hardest part of my work is the unbreakable bond to keep a horse until their dying day, and allow them to live until the quality of life is the final concern. I have only sold (for $2) one horse since moving here to the farm. Before we built this farm, I had to sell a few of my beloved horses because it was a matter of the cost of care and my lack of income to cover it. I had always heard that if you want to be a millionaire and have horses, start with two million! It’s scary true. Horses are expensive to care for, even when you have your own farm to keep them on.
I have loved every one of them. Most of my horses work for their upkeep. And the ones who don’t teach horsemanship anymore have retired and become Gestalt coaches, which they are usually very skilled. The retirees, who still eat as much as the rest of the herd, often need more supplements and veterinary care to keep them comfortable and happy.
Why do I keep them? They aren’t pulling their own weight anymore. The answer is simple, they are my partners in this business, and I feel they deserve a retirement plan as much as the next guy. Horses have shorter lives and much shorter work lives than their human counterparts. Most horses live into their late twenties and early thirties here. Their careers as riding teachers start at age five and usually end in their late twenties. They aren’t ridden very hard and don’t develop as many aches and pains as a horse who has been ridden hard all his life. Most of my horses do more walking and maybe a little trotting.
When we started the farm almost thirty years ago, I could buy a young horse for under $2000. Now the base price is over $3000 even for an old horse. Then there is feed, supplements, veterinary care, having their hooves trimmed every six weeks, fencing (which is mysteriously always in need of repair), barn help, and equipment (from hoof picks to farm tractors). Are you beginning to see why you need two million to start?
All of that is the practical side of the business. The emotional side is more complicated. Can I do this work with heart and grace? Am I able to understand and meet the needs of the people who come here? Do I have the patience and the stamina to do this daily? How will I grow my business with the limitations of time and horses? Who will my clientele be? How will I find them? How can I do what I do against the traditional norms of working with horses and people who need assistance to grow into who they were meant to be? Who will teach me what I don’t know yet?
I had a bit of a plan when I started. I knew horses, or so I thought. I knew how to train them. Or so I thought. We started small, and bit by bit we grew. The special needs children began to show up and grew to be my largest clientele. I had already finished school for early childhood education, so I knew child development well. I went back to school to learn about equine-assisted therapy. I was heartbroken at the way horses and children were treated. I created my own model based on respect and meeting the needs of the horse and the human. For years, I had to work outside of the farm to make ends meet.
A good deal of my money troubles came from not understanding the value of my services and the value of what I already knew and was able to give to the children. When I entered Equine Gestalt Coaching Method training, I discovered that I had spent my life undervaluing myself and what we do here. The two-year course, designed and taught by Melisa Pearce at Touched by a Horse, was amazing. Not only did I learn to help those with trauma and life journeys, but I also reframed my life and vision. I became what I was always destined to be. This work is who I am. My horses and I assist others in finding their own path, and we support them on their journey to wholeness. That includes the children who come here. They are respected for who they are, not pushed to be what others perceive them to be.
My biggest goal was to do what I loved in a way that resonated with my values and my vision. I found my life’s work. I can see the changes in my client’s lives and those around them. The amazement in a mother’s voice as she tells me that her neurodivergent child had a really calm week after they had been here to be with the horse is all I ever need to hear to keep me working hard to fulfill my vision.
