Neglected or Free - A Rescue Horse Debate

What is a rescue horse? Lately, I have been posing this question to myself and others. One of the replies I received bothered me, so I thought I would explore the topic a little more on here.

We all have different thresholds of tolerability regarding animal treatment. Some people tend to believe that a horse should only be rescued if they are getting abused and malnutrition. Yet, others seem to believe that a horse needs to be rescued if it is getting simply under-utilized.

Should we be defining what purposes people can have for owning horses? The comment that concerned me indicated this person’s belief that if a horse is well-fed, but neglected attention, the horse should be taken from them. In a way, I feel sorry for the horses, and in a way I feel they are lucky. I think we take for granted that they are beings in their own right, and perhaps being well-fed and having safety provided to them is almost nicer than the standard alternative of feeding, grooming, and working.

To me, these owners were merely offering their horses freedom in a safe environment. Granted, they are not wild, so they are not totally free in every sense of the word, but as free as security lets them be. Is this really neglect or rather acknowledgment of a different species? Horses are herd animals, and since these couple of horses had other horses to interact with, they were not alone, either. Plus, they were in a pasture, not pens.

What am I missing? Generally, there are two sides to every argument. So, am I missing something that should be rather obvious?

Arabian Dreams

As the wind blew threw her tangles, there was no doubt that she had her nerves fine-tuned for even the slightest of sounds. One quick wisp of mane courageously blew against her cheek, catching her eye barely a moment before she snapped her teeth at it in defense. Just as quickly, her thick Arabian tail flew up prominently, like a flag waving her declaration of spirit.

With her head artistically raised, nostrils flared, her features refined--poignant even, there was no question that the spirit within was barely being contained by her majestically contoured figure. Legs straight as a drawing, back almost as level as a carpenter’s tool, her neck poised and arched high, appearing nothing short of regal next to her beautifully dished-in face. As her eye gazed back at me, I almost had to lean forward against the nearly tangible energy.

Immediately, I knew today I was not the teacher, but the student. Now, I need only wait for my lesson plan to be laid in front of me. The only question not left to be answered was what the final lesson would be: patience.