ZELDA

Thoroughbred Mare

WEB HERO IMAGES 4:5 - ZELDA | IMO

ZELDA’S STORY — “I Am Home. I Am Heard.”

Look at me now.
I stand strong in the doorway of my stall, pawing—yes, insistently. I like to be fed first. Always have. It’s not greed. It’s just… I’m alive, and I know I matter now.

My name is Zelda—Zoom Zoom Zelda, if you please. These days, I take my time. I rest in soft straw, I graze beneath the maples with my sisters DiDi and Ripple, and I soak in the sun like it’s an elixir crafted just for me.

Scratch my neck on the left… now the right… there it is. That’s the spot. I’ll cock my hip and sigh so deep, it shakes loose a thousand memories.

But if you met me today, you’d never guess what I’ve lived through.
You’d see a healthy mare, content, curious, and just the tiniest bit bossy. You’d see a Thoroughbred with a gleaming coat and light in her eyes, whose hooves are finally stable enough to wander without pain.

You’d see the miracle of love made visible.

🪞But once, I was broken.

I was born in New York, a daughter of Freud, and granddaughter of Exceller—the only horse in history to defeat both Seattle Slew and Affirmed. Greatness was in my blood. I sold for $27,000 as a yearling, then again for $49,000 as a two-year-old. They called me “prospect.”

But the racetrack didn’t love me back. I ran nine times—Aqueduct, Finger Lakes—and never once crossed the wire first. With each race, the expectations faded, and so did the care. My name, once spoken with pride, dissolved into anonymity.

By 17, I was emaciated, lame, and unrecognizable, lost in a North Carolina feedlot. My feet were so sore, I shuffled like a Tennessee Walker. A handler at a backwoods auction had sold me as one. No one cared enough to read the tattoo inside my lip.

I had already been separated from the one foal I ever had. My heart and body hurt in equal measure.

But Unbridled saw me.

They said, “You don’t have to worry anymore.”
They raised the funds. They called me by name. And when I stepped off the trailer, I smelled clean hay and heard a voice say, “Welcome home, Zelda.”

It took months for the pain in my feet to ease. I rested in silence, soaking in the sounds of sanctuary—the soft breath of horses, the sweep of shavings, the quiet reverence of being allowed to be.

Now I am a teacher.
I’ve Zoomed into classrooms during the pandemic with Micheline, our Education Director, giving children a moment of calm when the world felt upside down. In Unbridled’s Canvas of Compassion program, I inspire art, imagination, and empathy.

I ask questions with my eyes. I seek connection with my ears forward. And I always—always—show up for the little ones who need to believe that healing is possible.

My story is not just my own. It echoes through the lineage of Exceller, my grandsire, who defeated champions only to be discarded to slaughter. I was nearly lost the same way.

But I wasn’t.
Because you cared.

Because LYNNAE sponsors me.
Because others may choose to stand beside her.

It costs $26 a day to meet my non-negotiable needs—feed, farrier, medication, comfort.

If you feel me in your heart, let your love meet my life.
Be part of the circle that saved me.

My name is Zelda.
I was lost.
Now I am home.
Now I am heard.

Fun Fact:


Herbivorous Diet
Horses are herbivores and primarily eat grass. However, domesticated horses are often fed a diet of hay and grain as well.

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