10/29/2026
We are so sad to announce that our oldest horse Smokey experienced a rapid decline this week in his health due to his age and with the help of our amazing vet we assisted him over the rainbow bridge late last night. He has been with us for years, living out his retirement and we recognize his loss is difficult for staff and our community that had the privilege of interacting with him.
The following is a message from the owner of Shoofly:
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It was a long night, and early morning so the two days have blended into one. The emotions I laid down with simply rose with me in the hours before sunrise, haunting me. The tears demanding to be set free and warm the coolness of my cheeks as I watch and wait for the sun.
Yesterday I made the difficult decision to release Smokey, our oldest horse here on the farm, to roam the pastures of heaven. I could feel his beloved companion, Belle, right there calling him home and I find solace in the knowledge his old frail body no longer troubles him.
I always try to talk myself out of the grief, I tell myself, It’s part of the job, I only had this horse so many years, months or weeks. I never rode this horse, it wasn’t my heart horse, it was their time, it was the right thing to do and the list goes on and yet my sadness remains.
When I put our rescue mare Jazzy down in 2023 I said she was my redemption story and yet I wasn’t ready to talk about why I felt that way and never explained. I think now is the time I come clean.
I grew up with horses and loved it, but those horses were my grandfathers or my mothers until after I left home and was given an old mare by someone who just wanted to get rid of her for his convenience of not paying board. I shouldn’t have accepted her but the idea of having my own horse was thrilling. The problem was I lived 2 hours away, I was in college, so she remained at my parents’ place where she was cared for by others. I barely came to visit her and only months later while in the thick of wedding plans I agreed to let my soon to be father-in-law take her to auction because I didn’t have a place or the time for her where I’d be living.
I remember my gut told me no, she was too old and slow and nobody would want her. But he persisted, reasoning with me that “it’s what you do with these old horses” and so I caved and let it happen.
She went off to auction the day of my bridal shower and as I sat there and laughed and celebrated she was sold for $200. I did not know who she went to at the time but now with the understanding I have I imagine she was sold to a kill buyer.
This is the grief that follows me, haunts me, the shadow I wish wasn’t there, the shame I tell myself I’ve washed away each time I rescue a horse, the misdeed I sought redemption from when I saved Jazzy from slaughter. They were loading Jazzy on the truck, she was in the chute and I paid the man $100 extra dollars to pull her out because all I could think about was that mare I didn’t do right by so many years ago. I thought maybe saving Jazzy in the 11th hour would ease my shame from the past.
I try to offer myself grace for that choice, I tell myself I was young, I didn’t know what happened at auctions for old horses like that, but my gut knew it was wrong and I did it anyway and I sealed that old mares fate with my selfishness.
I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like I’ve sufficiently atoned for what I did, no matter how many horses I save or give the best retirement to but, I do know learning from it and changing is all I can do.
One thing I’ve learned, and it comes back to me every time I have to euthanize a horse,
is that all those excuses I tell myself to ease my grief don’t work because they don’t matter. It doesn’t matter how long I’ve had the horse, how old or young they were, if they were a “pasture puff” or rideable and it doesn’t matter if they were my beloved heart horse. None of that changes the value of their life. Each horse is worth the time I pour into them, the money spent on them living their best life, the space I give them in my heart. So the grief remains and if I’m ever to find redemption for the terrible mistake of my youth it’s found in this truth, every life is priceless, every life has immeasurable value, every life is worth it.
Smokey lived out his final years grazing our pastures and gracing us with his value and worth every day, and it was such a gift, just like the many great ones who went before him.
He was slow and gentle until you went to put him away and then he was suddenly quick, evasive and grumpy, and I loved every minute with him.
So I’m done trying to excuse myself from grieving “too hard or too long” for a horse. Instead I will honor Smokey by feeling it all until it slowly eases from a burning hot pain to a gentle reminder. Grief is not weakness, it’s proof. Evidence that love and connection exist. How fortunate I am to get to grieve so many great ones, how blessed I am to be allowed any amount of time with them in life, as well as the sadness of them passing. A reminder of my capacity to see value and worth as something simply inherited with life, a reminder that love is my answer, and loving deeply is my redemption.
Run wild and free Smokey, wild and free.
- Brianna Ranshaw
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Smokey was loved by many of our volunteers and visitors and we thank you all for taking the time to connect with him, pet him, feed him and love him.
If anyone feels inclined to donate in Smokey’s memory or to his euthanasia and burial you can Venmo the farm at ShooflyFarmVa , CashApp -$ShooflyFarmVirginia or visit our website
ShooflyFarmVirginia.com and click the donations tab for a PayPal link or where to send checks.
Giving a horse an honorable passing and burial is just shy of $1000, this is why so many end up in the kill pens because owners can’t or won’t spend the money to do the right thing. But we will always choose them, give them their best life and best death, they are worth it.
