A Life Reclaimed: Chewie’s First Year of Freedom

28 June

I’ve spoken before about the importance of “Gotcha Days” - those anniversaries marking the moment a rescue animal finally comes home to safety and care. Tomorrow is a special one for us: it will be Chewbacca’s very first Gotcha Day. Reflecting on his journey from starvation and abuse to becoming a steady, joyful presence in our little herd of previously unwanted and unloved horses fills me with gratitude.

And as we celebrate this milestone, we’re also preparing to rescue another horse in need. This one is difficult to catch and lame (not through any fault of his owner, but because they were given tragically poor advice). In fact, the recommended “solution” was euthanasia rather than offering this horse a chance at gentle handling, proper veterinary care, and a new start.

But I want to first talk about Chewbacca’s journey.

Chewbacca, or Chewie as we call him, is 22 years old. In his earlier life, he was a school horse at a riding school where he worked hard, patiently carrying students as they learned to ride. When he reached his early twenties, the riding school decided to sell him along with his paddock mate. They were purchased by a person who wanted horses for his son. On the surface, it sounded like a win-win situation. The property was 40 acres, and the boy was apparently horse obsessed. It seemed like Chewie and his friend would have plenty of space to roam and a family to care for them.

Sadly, the reality turned out to be very different from what anyone would have hoped. The 40 acres were mostly covered in thick, overgrown vegetation. There was no usable pasture for grazing, and the property was littered with rusting car bodies that created hazards everywhere. The dense country was also home to countless snakes, which posed a constant threat to the horses’ safety. Tragically, it was a snakebite that claimed the life of Chewie’s paddock mate.

It is unclear how long the family maintained an interest in Chewie’s wellbeing or whether they ever truly understood how to care for him properly. What is known is how Chewie eventually came to us. When he was found, he was starving and emaciated to the point of desperation. With no grass to eat, Chewie managed to save his own life by breaking through two fences and wandering onto a busy road in search of food.

Fortunately, a kind-hearted person with horse experience happened to be passing by at the right time. They were able to catch Chewie and get him to safety before something even worse happened. He was then fortunate that our friend Jen (https://esi-education.com/practitioners/jen-davy-brisbane-qld/) stepped in to help. She quickly arranged a temporary paddock where Chewie could be assessed and begin his recovery.

Although his feet and teeth were in surprisingly fair condition, the rest of him told a heartbreaking story. He was severely underweight, his ribs sharply visible beneath his dull coat. He was covered in ticks and rain scald, a painful bacterial skin infection. His mane and tail were matted into heavy, knotted clumps. Jen and her friend immediately began the long process of rehabilitating him. They started him on a strict feeding plan to gradually rebuild his strength and safely increase his weight. They bathed him with medicated shampoo, removed the ticks, treated his rain scald, and gently groomed away the mats in his coat.

When Jen reached out to ask if we had room to take him in, I knew we couldn’t say no. Chewie arrived here, and the sight of him was honestly shocking. The space between his hind legs was so severe it looked like he might collapse. His ribs and hips were sharply outlined under his skin. He was so weak that every step he took made a loud clicking noise. That sound was his joints grinding together because he had lost so much muscle that nothing supported them anymore.

We began the long road to Chewie’s recovery with determination and care. Every day was a commitment to helping him heal, both physically and emotionally. He was given constant monitoring to make sure no setback went unnoticed. He had open access to pasture and clean water around the clock. We prepared three nutritious hard feeds a day to gradually build his strength. He received gentle grooming, love, plenty of companionship, and as much compassion as we could offer.

Rehabilitating a starving horse is never something that can be rushed. Their digestive systems are extremely sensitive, especially after periods of prolonged deprivation. If you reintroduce food too quickly or in the wrong amounts, you risk causing organ failure or severe digestive upset. It is a delicate process that requires patience and a willingness to move at the horse’s pace, not your own.

Along the way, we faced the inevitable challenges that come with starvation recovery. One of the most difficult was the appearance of gastric ulcers, a condition where excess acid in the stomach burns the lining and creates intense pain. Horses cannot explain that they are hurting. Instead, they show it through behavior. With Chewie, there were moments when he lashed out. He would sometimes kick or threaten to bite. He never attacked me out of malice. These were simply the only ways he knew to communicate that something was terribly wrong inside his body.

As the months passed and he began to feel better, I started to see more of who Chewie really was. Underneath the hunger and fear was a resilient soul who just wanted connection and company. I would spend mornings drinking my coffee in the paddock with him. While he picked at his breakfast, I sat quietly nearby. At lunch and dinner, I kept him company as he ate, making sure he felt safe and unhurried. Sometimes I would bring a book to read. Other times, I simply watched him graze.

One of Chewie’s favorite things is having his face rubbed. It was remarkable how much this small act of affection seemed to calm him. The moment I started to rub his face, he would release all the tension he carried. He would begin yawning over and over. The most yawns I counted in one sitting were fifteen in a row. Each one was a sign that he trusted me enough to let go of some of his stress. It meant he saw me as a safe place, someone he could rely on to protect and care for him. Sometimes, after a long stretch of yawning, he would lie down in the paddock beside me and drift off for a nap. Seeing him rest so deeply was one of the most moving experiences I have had. It showed me just how far he had come from the frightened, skeletal horse who had arrived.

Horses are herd animals at their core. They need at least one other horse to feel secure and content. They have an incredible ability to sense each other’s heartbeats, often from up to a meter away. This connection means that if one horse perceives danger, the sudden change in heart rate will alert the others, allowing the entire herd to react quickly. This instinct is also why horses often cannot rest fully unless they have another horse nearby to stand watch. In a herd, there is always one horse awake and alert so the others can lie down and sleep without fear.

Over six months, Chewie slowly regained weight and rebuilt his strength. His hooves were trimmed regularly, and his coat started to shine again. By early December, he had improved enough that we felt confident introducing him to our little herd. He blended in beautifully and settled into sharing the number three position in the hierarchy with Gandalf. (Gandalf’s story, which is equally heartbreaking and inspiring, is shared in my blog post titled “The Horse with No Name.”)

What surprised us most was the impact Chewie had on the rest of the herd. Before he arrived, the two top horses in the hierarchy were constantly at odds, chasing each other and pushing Gandalf around. The atmosphere could be tense, and there was sometimes little peace among them. When Chewie joined, everything changed. His calm, steady energy seemed to settle the others. The constant chasing stopped, and the herd found a new sense of balance that had been missing for so long.

Today, Chewie is safe, happy, and healthier than I ever imagined he could be when I first saw him. He still carries the memory of starvation, and that trauma shows itself in certain moments. When I bring him his hard feed, I have to be cautious if I need to approach him while he eats. He sometimes kicks or threatens to protect his food. This reaction is rooted in the fear that he will never have enough to eat again. It is a fear that can take years to fade, and perhaps it never goes away completely.

This is something Chewie and I work on together. I approach him slowly and calmly, showing him that I am there to help, not to take anything away. Over time, I hope he will fully understand that he is safe now and will never go hungry again. But even if that day never comes, I am grateful every day to witness his progress, his trust, and his quiet determination to heal.

Reflecting on who I saw on that first day back then, it was hard to imagine the bright-eyed, steady gelding he has become. Tomorrow, as we celebrate his first Gotcha Day and reflect on all he has survived, we are also preparing to help another horse who needs rescue. But before we turn our attention to the next life that needs saving, it feels important to honour the incredible resilience Chewie has shown over this past year.