Speaking of Horses Incorporated

On Tuesday, we said goodbye to Blink—our beloved therapy horse, our friend, and the heart of Speaking of Horses. We're asking for your help to replenish funds depleted by his care and to keep serving the children who need us.

The Horse Who Changed Everything-

Blink was supposed to be a therapy horse—and he was, brilliantly. But somewhere along the way, he became so much more. He became the reason children found their voices. He became the friend who waited patiently while kids learned to trust again. He became the living proof that healing happens when you're loved unconditionally.

Blink had this way of knowing. When a child arrived anxious or overwhelmed, he would slow down even more than usual (and he was already the slowest horse at the farm.) When a child needed to talk, he would stand perfectly still for hours, asking nothing except to feel their hands brush his coat. He didn't care if you were shy or scared or different. He just loved you. Completely. Honestly.

The kids adored him. They would run to the fence when they saw him. They would whisper secrets in his ear. One little girl who hadn't spoken in months said her first word while grooming Blink's mane. Not to a therapist. Not in a clinical setting. She said it to him, because he made her feel safe enough to try.

That was Blink.

The Summer Everything Changed-

In July, we moved to a new barn. Blink had always been solid—the kind of horse who maintained his weight and his calm no matter what. But after the move, he started to lose weight. Slowly at first. We thought it was the stress of the new environment, the change of routine.

We watched him more carefully. We adjusted his feed. We loved on him harder, knowing transitions could be difficult.

Then the abscesses came.

Both front feet developed severe abscesses that wouldn't drain on their own. Blink went lame and we could see him struggling. The vet came out and took X-rays, and that's when we learned the abscesses were eating away at his coffin bone. He needed aggressive treatment. Antibiotics. Pain management. We gave him everything we had and after his final diagnosis realized the abscesses were a result of a weak immune system.

The abscesses cleared, but they'd aggravated his navicular disease. He received joint injections including both corticosteroids and Arthramid. We increased his feed from a handful of Triple Crown Balancer to nine pounds of Triple Crown Senior Gold every single day. Surely this would help him recover.

His weight still didn't improve.

We tested for Cushings disease. Negative. We called the vet back to check his teeth even though they'd just been done in June because he was slightly dropping his hay. His teeth were fine. But something was wrong. We could feel it. This wasn't the strong, steady horse we knew.

Our vet asked if she could run a CBC—a complete blood count—just to understand what was happening.

The results came back: terminal liver cancer.

The Cost of Saying Goodbye-

The diagnostic process took thousands of dollars. Veterinary visits. X-rays. Bloodwork. Medications. Injections. Treatments. Every single expense was necessary, and every single one was worth it, because Blink was worth fighting for.

But there were no treatment options and hanging on would slowly steal his quality of life. We knew that every moment mattered now. So we decided to let him go while he could still stand with dignity, while he was still surrounded by love, while the children could still have their goodbyes.

On Tuesday, we said goodbye to our friend.

Why We're Reaching Out Now-

Speaking of Horses operates with three therapy horses. They are the foundation of everything we do. Now we're down to two.

Our emergency fund—the safety net we rely on for unexpected medical crises, facility needs, and the unpredictable challenges that come with running an organization—has been depleted by Blink's care. We don't regret a single dollar spent. But we're now vulnerable. If one of our remaining horses gets sick or injured, if something breaks down at the facility, if an emergency arises, we don't have the cushion we desperately need.

And beyond the immediate financial crisis, we're grieving. Our hearts are breaking. The children are still asking when they'll see Blink again, and we're learning how to tell them that he's gone but his love isn't. That he changed their lives. That he showed them their own strength.

The mission-

Speaking of Horses serves children with severe disabilities from families who couldn't otherwise afford speech therapy. We accept Medicaid. We accept insurance. We accept families who have nothing but hope. We serve children who haven't spoken their first words, children who struggle to connect, children who the world has made to feel like they don't matter.

Blink believed every single one of them mattered. He spent years showing them that.

Now we need your help to:

-Replenish our emergency fund so we're prepared for the unexpected and can continue serving children without fear of financial crisis

-Rebuild our capacity as we grieve the loss of one of our three therapy horses

-Keep our program running while we navigate this heartbreaking transition

-Honor Blink's memory by ensuring his legacy of healing continues

-Eventually welcome a new therapy horse when we're ready, so we can help even more children find their voices

What Blink Gave Us-

Blink gave us something priceless: proof that love heals. That presence matters. That a gentle soul can change lives simply by showing up and caring.

He gave children confidence. He gave families hope. He gave us a mission we believe in with our whole hearts.

Now we're asking you to help us keep that mission alive.

If you can donate, please do. If you can't, please share this story. Either way, thank you for honoring Blink. Thank you for believing that the work we do matters. Thank you for understanding that sometimes the most powerful therapy happens on the back of a horse who loves you unconditionally.

With a grief-stricken but determined heart,

Ada and the Speaking of Horses Team

Blink: 2007 – 2025. Therapy Horse. Friend. Teacher. Healer. He was exactly what we needed.

An eight-year-old boy with selective mutism came for his session and asked where the sensory trail was. When I told him it was gone, he started crying.

"That's the only place I can say things," he said.

Looking back at his progress notes, he's right. In my office? Silent. In traditional speech therapy? Single word responses at best, and only when directly prompted. At school? He hasn't spoken once all year. But on the sensory trail, we documented multi-word utterances, questions, and spontaneous communication. He used his voice there.

The sensory trail wasn't just helping him communicate. It was the only environment where communication was actually happening.

That's when I realized what we needed to rebuild.

What We're Building

We need two interconnected therapeutic spaces that together create the comprehensive program our children deserve.

The Indoor Therapeutic Arena ($60,000)

This is our foundation. Right now, therapy happens in an outdoor ring. Sessions get cancelled when it's too hot, too cold, or too wet. Kids get rained out of their therapy. Unexpected weather spooks the horses. A sudden noise from the neighboring property startles them and disrupts work.

The indoor arena would be a year-round therapeutic space where we cultivate a sensory-rich, controlled environment. We design the sensory input intentionally—lighting, acoustics, surfaces, visual organization—so the only variables are the therapeutic ones we choose. We integrate therapeutic elements on walls and throughout the space. We create conditions where evidence-based language teaching techniques can happen consistently, without weather becoming a barrier.

This isn't just a building. It's infrastructure that lets us serve more children reliably, year-round, with consistent progress.

The Sensory Trail Rebuild ($7,500)

The outdoor sensory trail offers something the indoor arena cannot: naturalistic environment, genuine sensory input from wind and ground texture, the unscripted interaction that happens in open space. Some children thrive specifically because of those elements. It's the original model that proved this approach works.

The trail needs clearing and rebuilding. We need to replace and rebuild the therapeutic elements that were lost: the magic boxes, the drums, the streamers, the picture stations, the obstacles. We need to add space for side walkers on each side of the horse—a critical safety measure.

Together, these two spaces give us:

Flexibility: Some children will respond better to the outdoor trail. Others will benefit from the controlled indoor environment. We can match the child to the setting.

Consistency: The indoor arena ensures year-round access. The trail provides the naturalistic richness that some children need.

Resilience: If one space needs maintenance or repairs, we can continue serving children in the other.

A child with selective mutism who needs the naturalistic outdoor environment to find her voice. A child with autism who benefits from the controlled predictability indoors. A child whose family can only come during winter months. A child who needs year-round consistency to make progress.

Both spaces mean we can say yes to all of them.

How We Know It Works

Our therapeutic approach uses evidence-based speech-language pathology techniques: naturalistic language teaching, milieu teaching, incidental teaching, semantic-pragmatic approaches, sensory integration principles, environmental language interventions, and more. These techniques will be embedded in both the trail and the indoor arena.

What that means: every element is positioned to create natural communication opportunities without the child knowing they're being treated. The sensory input provides proprioceptive and vestibular feedback that supports language learning. The semantic contexts—things to talk about—emerge naturally from the environment. We embed language targets within interests rather than isolating them in drills.

The outcomes we documented on the trail show what's possible:

A six-year-old with moderate expressive language delays who used primarily single words started consistently producing two- and three-word combinations through naturalistic language opportunities. "Drum loud." "More horse." "I go fast." He went from 40% utterances that were single words to 60% multi-word utterances. His mother reported the gains generalized to home.

A nine-year-old with selective mutism who had never initiated communication in any formal setting began asking questions. "What's that?" "Can I drum?" Through repeated incidental teaching opportunities in a low-pressure context, he moved from zero spontaneous utterances to functional initiation—the core goal in selective mutism treatment.

A ten-year-old with autism who struggled with pragmatic language showed improvement in topic maintenance and turn-taking through structured activities that naturally prompted back-and-forth interaction. The activities themselves required communication, making it functional rather than imposed.

A seven-year-old with a severe speech sound disorder worked on her target sounds (/r/ sounds) through incidental teaching during high-interest activities. In the therapy room, accuracy was 30%. During naturalistic play, accuracy jumped to 65%—showing that semantic context and reduced cognitive load significantly improved motor planning for speech production.

These aren't feel-good improvements. These are measurable gains in the specific areas we target in speech-language pathology. The approach works because the evidence-based techniques are embedded in the environment, not imposed on it. Both the trail and the indoor arena will use this same model.

What We Lost

In the summer of 2025, I went through a major personal transition that required me to relocate Speaking of Horses. I moved to Celt Run Farm and partnered with Brooke Baugher to continue the work. New beginnings, new partnership, new land—all necessary and ultimately promising.

But the timing was brutal. In October, Blink was diagnosed with terminal liver cancer. His end-of-life care cost $10,000 from our emergency reserves. When he died, we lost not just a beloved horse, but a significant part of our therapeutic capacity. Blink had been inducted into the Upperville Wall of Honor for his showing career—a recognition of his caliber as an athlete and partner. He had a calm therapeutic presence that children could feel. Around the same time, Phil was no longer available. Brooke generously let us use Chief, but Winnie—who was deeply bonded to Blink—needed time to grieve and recover. She wasn't ready to work.

We went from three therapy horses to essentially one.

The sensory trail we'd built couldn't come with us intact to Celt Run Farm. Many elements had to be dismantled, some were damaged in the process, and some couldn't be salvaged at all.

Our program capacity dropped from serving 20 children to 7.

Our emergency fund: depleted. Our best therapeutic environment: dismantled. Our waiting list: 15 families seeking services we can no longer provide.

It was the right decision for my life and for the mission. And it came at a cost.

Why This Matters

Traditional speech therapy isolates targets. A child sits at a table. An adult presents a picture. "What's this?" The child responds or doesn't. That's direct instruction. It works for some kids. For others—particularly those with selective mutism, severe anxiety around communication, or pragmatic language challenges—the therapeutic demand itself becomes the barrier.

That eight-year-old with selective mutism? In my office with direct elicitation, he communicates maybe 5% of the time. With the right environment using evidence-based techniques, his speech frequency jumped to 40%. The difference is we stopped demanding and started responding to his initiations.

The indoor arena and the rebuilt sensory trail both embody this approach. They're not therapy rooms. They're therapeutic environments where language learning happens naturally, embedded in what the child is already motivated to do.

What We're Fundraising For

We're raising $77,500 to rebuild what we had and create the infrastructure we need:

Indoor Therapeutic Arena: $60,000 - Year-round facility with intentional sensory design, therapeutic elements, climate control, and stalls for our therapy horses

Sensory Trail Rebuild: $7,500 - Clearing, rebuilding therapeutic elements, adding safety features (side walker space)

Emergency Fund Restoration: $10,000 - So a sick horse or unexpected crisis doesn't shut down the entire program again

We're also seeking donors at different levels:

$100-500: Direct support for rebuilding efforts

$1,000-5,000: Sponsor the sensory trail (a drumming station, a magic box, a streamer tunnel)

$5,000-10,000: Help make the arena a reality

$10,000+: Become a founding partner in Speaking of Horses' future

Support our emergency fund: Help us rebuild the $10,000 in reserves depleted by Blink's care, so we're prepared for the unexpected

Ongoing giving: Monthly support for therapy and operations

What This Means

There's an eight-year-old with selective mutism who can only communicate on environments we've dismantled.

There are 15 families on a waiting list. Two have children with selective mutism who need contexts where speech feels safe. Eight have moderate to severe expressive language delays and need language-rich environments. Five have autism with pragmatic language challenges. All of them are waiting for the infrastructure we need to serve them.

We went from 20 children to 7 because we don't have the spaces to work. Every month children stay on a waiting list is a month of language development that's not happening, skills not being built, voices not being found.

This isn't expansion. This is recovery. The children waiting aren't going to find their voices without this infrastructure.

Ready to be part of this?

To learn more about Speaking of Horses, make a tax-deductible donation, or explore partnership opportunities, visit www.speakingofhorsesincorporated.org.

Speaking of Horses Incorporated is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit providing equine-assisted speech-language pathology services to children with communication challenges. We accept Medicaid, insurance, and serve families regardless of financial ability.

You can make a difference by donating today to Speaking of Horses Incorporated.

At Speaking of Horses, our mission is to harness the unique power of equine-assisted therapy to facilitate communication development and holistic growth in individuals of all abilities. As a small nonprofit specializing in speech therapy on horseback and therapeutic riding, we are dedicated to providing innovative and effective interventions that promote physical, emotional, and cognitive well-being.