Trallwm Farm
The loan and rescue list was ticking along nicely, as horses were being
found good homes just on the internet, I wasn't expecting the phone call
that was to change things forever. 
If the horse didn't get removed he would be shot - but the owners wanted £500 for him. I stood my ground until I got the call I wanted. “Collect the horse or he will be shot on Saturday”. I spent the night emailing horse transporters, explaining that the horse was sick, and that we had a very real time issue. Suddenly, Kevin Scott at ECS telephoned me to say "...you couldn't shoot a horse called Wilber - especially not on a Saturday”. Kevin carried his fragile cargo to us in Hampshire, as fast and as carefully as he could - and we waited for the ramp to drop.
I cried when I saw the horse that emerged. Due to his weight loss, his eyes were sticky where his eyelashes had irritated his eyes so badly they had become infected. His skin was raw in places, and in others he had several seasons of matted coat, where he'd had the same rug left on continuously. Worse still was the way he tried to walk. Due to standing in one place for such a long time, his hooves were so long that he had muscle wastage, and what muscle there was had been pulled out of its normal position. My daughter Kyra led him up the drive, and I particularly noticed that although his head was nearly on the floor, his ears were forward. He was showing true pleasure at having somewhere to go which he must have instinctively known was safe. The first person called was our farrier, who worked his best magic on those twisted feet. Next came the dentist, whose task it was to help Wilber eat properly again. Because he had survived on fresh air his teeth had grown like tombstones in his mouth. It was touch and go, but the next event made us even more determined.
Kyra's father died on the Saturday that Wilber was due to be shot.
Poor Wilber became the most important horse in the world, and was encouraged at every waking moment to survive. He was walked as many times in a day as we could, to get his body working again. He was fed barley and sugar beet, vitamins and build-up, and as soon as he finished his hay net it was refilled. It was a great day when he managed to bite through a whole apple!
All those that had passed negative comments on his arrival were suddenly bringing Polos to him, and he would snicker on our arrival.
Suddenly there were more phone calls involving horses like Wilber. Horses that couldn't go straight out to new loving homes - and so our yard filled up with waifs and strays, all with happy ears and faces, waiting for their meals and apples.
I had to make a decision, and so one-day we set off at 5am, on the first of many trips, to find Wilber and friends their new permanent home.
After many disappointments, we found a farm that didn't have hills that Wilber would fall down, and that also had outbuildings for the thoroughbreds. I knew in my mind that it had to have woods and trees and cool streams to drink from, plus, when the herd was grazing I wanted them to see nothing but mountains around them.
We loaded up while it was still dark. Wilber even let himself out of his stable and moon walked in his new travel boots, before going into the lorry with Sherry - the love of his life. All the others happily and trustingly went on but Amelia. She had to be sedated first, and then Kevin Scott set off with the happy crew and all their worldly goods, to their new life. We followed with all the dogs, cats, chickens and George the goat, in a car and a Landrover. I had bought a place that no-one else wanted but it was ours now, and the horses became a strong permanent herd that thundered about playing all day. Ferguson, the head of our herd, welcomed new horses with nothing but kindness. We soon began taking in pigs, goats, cows, cats and sheep from all over the UK. We have over 100 happy smiling little people at present, who talk to us whenever we go out to them.
We have had our share of sadness too. Our beloved Wilber died in August, leaving a gaping hole where our hearts used to be. He is still here at his home with his family. I have two big bags of his ashes in my wardrobe. We lost our Jazzy too, who was the best Jersey cow friend anyone could have; she knew all the milking songs and would moo in the right place. Also Monster, our 19 yr. old German Shepherd dog. He'd had such a hard life but lived long enough to enjoy his farm. My two Siamese cats, who were the best ratters in the world (amongst the 15 feral cats that frequent my kitchen), went too. But, we have had the joy of sad horses coming to us and leaving happy. We always make sure that they go to the most wonderful homes that God can find us. I take in Jersey calves from dairy herds that would otherwise be shot by the hunt at 3 days old, and hand raise them before they join our permanent cows. We also take in battery hens and re-home them. In fact any animal can come in and be safe in the knowledge that I am meticulous in choosing what they would want in a new family.
I re-home horses all over the UK. Some can only light hack, or are old. Then there are the professional type horses that owners want permanent loan homes for. Often they are re-homed because of tragedies in the owner’s own lives, but often the horses have injuries that mean they cannot compete anymore. We have a waiting list of excellent homes though. Sadly, I always have a herd of mountain and moorlands ponies that are usually unbroken, waiting patiently for someone to love them. They are usually bought at auction as foals. Although it is kind of people to provide breeders and sellers with a good lucrative income - it really doesn't help the next batch of foals these people will breed to sell! Indeed, if people did not buy these foals in the first place, then they would not be bred anymore. These are the same animals that are often left in a field for several years, before ending up here as unwanted adults. Please do not support this trade. I have had to buy an extra 7 acres as a playpen for the ones we already have.
All animals are welcome here - and I still run the list for horses that don't need to come here, but do need a home. We struggle to survive on a good day, but something always turns up and we are lucky to have a band of wonderful supporters. Uri Geller has offered a book to auction on our behalf, Adam Shereston has worked with the disturbed animals, and every day the phone rings with the most amazing people offering food, homes and goodwill. We are featured in a series of books in America that will be available here soon.
It's still rough and ready here, and we only have invited guests, because this is primarily our animals' home. Where they can live happily day to day, and do their horse, cow, pig, dog 'stuff' without the stress of being disturbed. Everyone still has their ears forward and happy faces at mealtimes - and that is how it must stay for them.
I'm turning greyer by the minute as this "Trallwm Farm" thing gets ever bigger ... but never could I turn away a sad face on a lorry. As old favourites pass over, new characters live their lives in peace. We have a Cockatiel called Linekar, who loves the Eastenders music. He bites the cats and the two Deerhound puppies who came to us with malnutrition, and who were totally unsocialised. However, they now bound over the sofas happily before moving on to their new lives somewhere. We have calves whose daily breath is a miracle, because their time was just three days. And horses that sadly were reconciled to a bullet, when in fact they had a while longer to sunbathe on top of a mountain, with a big gelding called Ferguson keeping them safe.
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