The Story of Sara: Matriarch of
Hoku Lio Farms
Sara leaves Hawaii Island and arrives on Oahu heartbroken
Sara had a long road to becoming the treasured matriarch of the Hoku Lio Farm’s herd. She was a pure Icelandic horse, with thick skin, long hair and a stoicism that could slip into catatonia when Sara was utterly overwhelmed. When she arrived in Waimanalo, after a 24 hour shipping experience coming from Hawaii Island to Oahu, Sara was disturbed. She was heartbroken, and in a way not uncommon in other sentient beings, she expressed her heartache as difficult behavior. Sara kicked Belleza and Aquacero immediately upon meeting them - no warning, no pinned ears or stink eye, just two hind feet planted squarely on the belly of each of her two new herdmates. In horseperson terms, its called a “double barrel”. Aguacero had never suffered such a greeting before in his entire life of living with herds, but he wasn’t going to let it happen again. He recovered quickly from the assault and sent Belleza away to safety and made it clear that Sara had better keep her distance or else. Sara was confused, "But I just want to be your friend!"
After Sara’s previous owner lost their farm to a lava flow, the once large herd of 15 horses dwindled with each move until Sara was one of the last 3 remaining. Food was scarce, moving was stressful and losing so many herdmates was unsettling. Not unlike what’s expected of many horses, and not unlike the colonialism that took so much from the native people of these islands, Sara’s previous life consisted of serving people who came to extract things from her: trail rides and trips around an arena carrying unaware visitors who had shown up for the day. They might have been told her name, but after that she was to carry whoever showed up wherever she was told. At some point, Sara had had enough, she would stop mid-trail. Typically, when a horse refuses to go, they are smacked, kicked and scolded. She was called lazy. No amount of hits with a whip or kicks to her side would budge Sara once she’d said, "Enough!" Over the years she had also produced some babies to be sold. And then she was tossed away.
She was tossed blessedly into our arms. For two years, starting with the kicking of her new herdmates, biting at all the humans when she was brushed, saddled or when she even thought we’d expect something of her. Again, too often horses expressing this much unhappiness and objection would be silenced with force and intimidation. I was baffled. I’d never met a horse who didn’t love me back. Sara couldn’t be around children, or even inexperienced adults. I needed to be very present and quick to block the swing of Sara’s head bringing her teeth to bite throughout most interactions. I did my best to shush or ignore my doubts and instead trusted Sara’s, "I hate my life! I hate everything!" With the space to express herself, what seemed like miracles began. Aguacero and Belleza cautiously made friends with her, and then one day, Sara emerged from her heartache and said, "Step aside, I’m coming to class”.
Sara joyfully joins the kids’ classes
Sara had been watching children's classes from behind the safety (for the people!) of a fence. But once she declared her readiness, she was all in. 15 minutes before the children arrived, Sara would plant herself in front of her orange traffic cone (the marker where she stood for the children to groom her). She would tip her hooves up easily for the children to practice the necessary hoof cleaning. At the mounting block, Sara would stand patiently while a child got themselves on her sturdy back. She would walk, or sometimes tolt (a smooth Icelandic horse gait) as the child gained confidence and smiled joyfully. Children brushed her, hugged her, and one even cried into her mane when a deep level of connection and understanding was reached.
One of Sara’s favorite activities, besides that special spot she would get everyone to scratch for her, was going to the beach. Once her hooves reached the soft sand, whoever was riding her would have to be alert, for Sara’s first task was to roll in the warm sand. "Jump off!" we’d exclaim and Sara would drop to her knees and then roll over and over, scratching her back on the sand, her legs flying high. We would all laugh at her utter delight every time. On long rides, Sara might roll seven times!
Sara had many devoted children - and adults - who would shower her with extra care, clean her stall lovingly and bring her special buckets of feed. Sara was over twenty when she came to us, and had a number of health challenges - a heart murmur, fly allergy, thyroid issues, and other challenges to her immune system. Although Sara’s body had more than its share of difficulties, her spirit and energy was enormous! She was the smallest in the herd, 8 or 10 inches shorter and only 2/3rds of the weight of the other horses but she established herself early as the lead mare. The only ones who ever even tried to challenge her authority were a young Haflinger named Alex who was part of our herd for a year or two and then more recently her hanai niece Hōkūlani. Hōkū’s mother, Belleza, had never said no to her, so Hōkū was baffled when Sara put her in her place.
A gift from Sara
Our herd youngsters are a gift from Sara. We didn’t always have that sturdy post and wire mesh fencing in the center pasture. Originally it was just 5 lines of electric wire that separated the mares from the stallion Navar. Navar never considered breaching the wire. But Sara had other ideas. She would grit her teeth, rely on her thick coat and climb through those hot wires. Belleza decided she’d follow suit. After a number of close calls intercepting those two determined mares, I was really worried for their safety - getting wrapped up in the wires could be very dangerous. We were planning to breed Belleza at some point, and Sara was so old, she probably couldn’t get pregnant anyway, and so the decision was made to remove the dividing electric fence. All seemed good until I saw Navar with Belleza, and quicker than I could believe, Sara, who had seen them together, whipped around, her back end pointed at the amorous couple. Sara flew backwards and started kicking with both hind feet. The blows were an effective interruption, Navar got off Belleza’s back and they both ran for cover. Again, I was baffled. But it all made sense 11 months later when Sara had the first foal! Belleza’s baby came two whole weeks later. (After Sara got the pregnancy she wanted, she didn’t care what Navar and Belleza got up to!)
Sara was the best mom. She was a pro at birth and mothering and loving her sweet son Makana. She was patient and relaxed and soooo happy. We did wean Makana earlier than she would’ve liked. Horses make 3 gallons of milk a day for their babes. Making all that milk was taking too much out of Sara and we struggled to keep her weight up. Then came another fencing challenge as Sara would press herself up against the pipe fence panels separating her from her son and get him to nurse through the bars! We ended up putting fencing mesh on 60 feet of pipe fencing to keep Sara from slipping her son the milk!
Once the milk finally dried up, Sara and Makana were so happy to be reunited. Sara had taught Makana to groom her when he was 3 months old, and they would happily engage in mutual grooming to their hairy selves’ contentment.
Sara Crosses the Rainbow Bridge
Now to the end of August, 2026,: On Wednesday the 26th, the day after Dolly Parton went to heaven, our dear farrier Harmony was in town to trim the horses’ hooves. When Sara’s turn came, I pointed out that one of Sara’s eyes was really watering again. It had been treated at the end of July with a steroid/antibiotic ointment and had cleared up. Harmony opened Sara’s eyelids gently with her fingers and the eye was white. We called the veterinarian and left a detailed message about the eye. We gave Sara some pain medicine. The veterinarian came Thursday morning, put fluorescent dye in the eye which helped him determine there was no ulcer or abrasion. He provided a special ointment that would reduce the swelling that was clouding the eye. Sara had a slight fever and was due for a check of her thyroid medicine and so Dr. Manny drew blood for a host of tests that might help determine what was going on. Some tests were run in office but most of the results would come a day or two later from a lab in California. Sara finished her breakfast pellets and was munching on hay, her eye seeming more comfortable.
Thursday afternoon I returned to find Sara down in her stall, unconscious. I called Dr. Manny, Dr. Erin, Dr. Penny and Dr. Megan and left messages for them all. What was going on? Dr. Manny came, Sara’s temperature was very high, she received an IV, and antibiotics. Four volunteers came with towels, ice, water, and a homeopathic remedy Dr. Erin had prescribed. Derek ran electricity a few hundred feet to the stall and set up a fan. We worked together to cool Sara. And we sat silently, just loving her.
The moon was full, the lunar eclipse happened, and together we cared for Sara. At some point I saw light on Sara’s forehead. We were in her dark stall late in the evening.. Did I leave a headlamp over there? I searched around. No. Somehow the moon got through the tree, under the carport canopy tent and found the narrow opening in the corner of the stall and was shining two stripes of moonlight on Sara’s forehead. Fiona, our pig, came to that sliver of an opening in the corner of Sara’s stall. As I stayed the night with Sara, Fiona stood watch with me, one eye peering in.
At three in the morning, after an hour’s nap up in the office, I was returning to Sara’s side, and I was afraid of what I might find. Everyone else had gone home, and so I racked my brain. What time is it in California? Too early. Colorado? Too early. What about Minnesota? 8am, yes! I dialed my friend Virginia. She stayed on the phone with me for the walk into the pasture and back to Sara. Sara was still unconscious but breathing comfortably. Virginia and I spent some time talking about Sara’s many gifts and reminding Sara we just wanted what’s best for her. We were happy to keep on loving and caring for her or she could go, if that’s best.
Friday, August 28th, sometime around dawn, Sara woke up. She was still down on her side but swallowed the water I dripped into her mouth. At 6am, Dr. Penny called to check on us. She gently pointed out that Sara would need to be helped up onto her chest so she could choose to eat and drink or the right thing to do would be to call Dr. Manny for euthanasia. Sara had been flat on her side for 15 or so hours and that is very bad for horses. Problems would form that would lead to death and could be painful. Blessedly, up to this point the only thing that appeared to cause Sara any pain was the necessary veterinary eye exam.
Dr. Penny explained I’d need two men and myself to attempt to help Sara to roll onto her chest. She pointed out the only way it would happen was if Sara chose to participate, it would be her choice to accept the help or not. Where, I wondered, am I going to find two men at this hour of the morning? I also realized we’d need to prop Sara up with bales of straw if we successfully helped her shift, but I didn’t have any straw bales. I emailed the feed store, which doesn't open until 9am, "We have a horse down. If I can find someone with a truck, could I send them to the warehouse to get bales of straw and shavings before you open?"
Miracles poured in. Derek was with Sara (having stayed home from work), so I quickly drove home to get Donna, our friend and Feldenkrais practitioner who "happened" to be visiting. As I drove back to the farm, I said aloud to Donna, "Who can I ask to come help Derek try to move Sara?" Just then a white truck turned left in front of me. "Colton Farms" written in green letters on the passenger door. "Yes!" I exclaimed, "I’ll call Claude Colton." Claude answered his cell in the drive through of McDonalds, "Can you come?" We had a brief conversation, he graciously agreed to come and I knew it was perfect.
As I pulled into the farm, my cell phone rang. It was Waimanalo Feed, "we got your email, we’ve loaded your order and we’ll be there in 10 minutes". I squeaked out my gratitude, hung up and burst into tears.
Brandi arrived to do the morning feeding and care. She came to love Sara. Derek and Claude made a plan and with several tries and lots of coordination, and Sara choosing in, we got her up onto her chest. I brought her a pail of water, she drank a gallon in one drink. And then she looked for food. We rushed to get her some soaked pellets as she didn’t seem to be able to chew the hay. We brushed her, did more Ttouch on her body and ears, and Donna did Feldenkrais bodywork on her to make her more comfortable. We used the straw and bags of shavings to prop her up.
We spent a couple of peaceful hours together. I left for 25 minutes or so, to take Donna home and take a quick shower. While I was away, Sara made her transition. Derek was at her side. It was 11:11am. Derek and I were on the phone when she passed. I jumped in the car, first a little disappointed that I wasn’t there, but then I cried harder than I might have let myself had I not been in the privacy of my car.
The miracles kept coming though. Dr Penny was not only in town after 6 months away, but she had previously scheduled to be near the farm. Her visit just after Sara passed was a blessing. She comforted Derek and I, and her love of Sara shone brightly as we shared memories.
We let Makana come in and see his mama’s body. He touched her tail, her back, her lips. New tears poured forth at his tender goodbye. And then laughter came as he investigated the straw - having only seen it more than two years ago at his birth. One by one and two by two the horses came in to check on Sara. Throughout the day and night they had been standing on the other side of the pipe corral panel 10 or 12 feet away as Sara received care and ultimately crossed over this threshold. At three in the morning Belleza stood alone looking at Sara intently, just as she had done when Sara had lain down to give birth just 4 feet from where she now lay transitioning off the earth.
Since his early weaning, Makana learned to process, calm his nervous system and integrate life by taking a nap. Hōkūlani would nurse anytime something scared her or she learned something new or was confused. After Makana and then Makana and Aquacero had spent some time with Sara’s body, Makana went out into the middle of the paddock and took a long nap in the sunshine. Sweet boy, we’re here with you. Sara, we’ll take good care of your boy. Your gift to us that you were so determined to give us. (Makana means gift in Hawaiian).
Sara’s journey was nothing short of extraordinary—a testament to resilience, healing, and the transformative power of love. From her arrival as a heartbroken and overwhelmed horse, she transformed into the heart and soul of Hoku Lio Farm, leaving a profound impact on every child who rode her, every volunteer who cared for her, and every life she touched. Though she has crossed the rainbow bridge, her magnificent spirit lives on in our hearts, in the quiet wisdom of the pasture, and through her beloved son Makana, her ultimate gift to the farm. Sara will forever be remembered as our cherished lead mare, a true matriarch whose legacy of strength, patience, and love will continue to inspire us all.