PMU Foal Adoption: My Experience

All my life I dreamed of having horses. Finally, when I was in my early thirties my dream became a reality. My oldest daughter, age 12 at the time, was given a retired race- horse. So our equine journey began. After adopting two other horses from rescues, and caring for several others, I started thinking about a foal. I knew it would be a totally different experience, since all of our horses were older and had been trained before we got them. I wondered if I was up to the challenge of raising a foal with no previous experience, but in July of 2003 my daughter gave me the news that my birthday present that year was a PMU foal.

For those who are not familiar with the term PMU, it stands for pregnant mare urine, which is sold to drug companies for use in hormone therapy drugs. Thousands of foals are born each year as a by-product of the PMU industry. Many of these foals are sold to meat dealers to be fattened up and slaughtered. Rescue organizations and animal rights activists are working to reverse this trend and encourage the use of plant-based drugs as an alternative to those made from pregnant mare urine. While the industry continues to produce these unwanted foals, the prospects for them are grim unless they are adopted by loving families. This is the primary reason we chose a PMU.

I began to study any information I could find about raising foals. I read up on the PMU industry, and what to expect when adopting a PMU foal, but nothing could really prepare me for what it would be like.

Before being approved as an adopter, I had to build a special pen with a five-foot high board fence, and a secure stall. Once the pen was built, and the application was approved, it was a matter of waiting. The babies would arrive at the rescue the first weekend in September. By that time they would be 3-4 months old. We had requested a tri-colored paint filly, which we decided to call Jubilee. The foals were coming by tractor-trailer from Manitoba, Canada, so there was no chance to see them before they arrived at the rescue in Brandon, Vermont.

The day before I was scheduled to pick up my foal, I was notified that the truck had arrived at the rescue. I just couldn’t wait, so my son and I made the 80-mile trip to get our first look at Jubilee. Most of the foals were in one large pen. They were all numbered, and those that had already been assigned to homes had a red grease mark on them. Only those being picked up the following day were in the barn for vet checks. None of the foals in the barn matched the color/markings we had requested, and the workers in the barn were all busy, so we went to look at the foals in the corral. One little filly caught my eye. She was a pinto with unusual bay roan coloring, and a black and white mane. Her attitude was bold and curious, but not aggressive. She did not have a grease mark, so it appeared that she had not yet been spoken for. I was not the only one who was taken with her. A mother and daughter, who had come to choose a colt, were so impressed with her that they seriously considered taking her instead of a colt.

When I was finally able to speak with someone at the barn, I was given the number of the foal that had been assigned to me. The number did not match any of the foals in the barn.
I was told to check in the pen since they had apparently overlooked her when they separated them.

Back at the corral I scanned the herd for a grease-marked foal wearing number 74. My efforts were unsuccessful, but my eyes were drawn back to the roan filly. To my surprise, though she did not have a grease mark, she had number 74 clearly written on her hip. I couldn’t believe it! The beautiful filly I had admired was the one that had been chosen for me. I went home that afternoon as excited as a child on Christmas Eve.

My father volunteered to pull the stock trailer to the rescue the next day. When we arrived we watched a foal being loaded. What an ordeal! I wondered if they would ever get that colt in, and whether we would have the same trouble with Jubilee. As the trailer carrying the colt finally pulled away, we backed our trailer up to the gate, expecting a struggle. To our surprise and delight, Jubilee hopped right into the trailer as though she had been trained to do it.

After an uneventful ride home, we left Jubilee in her new stall for a while to settle in. I had learned that it is best not to try to touch one of these foals right away, since their only experience with humans up to that point was being herded into trailers, and vet checked. Not an especially nice introduction. After a couple of hours I went out and quietly stood in a far corner of the stall. When Jubilee got used to me being there she became curious and started sniffing me. I stood very still and let her check me out, then, being careful not to startle her, I slowly put my hand out and touched her neck. This didn’t bother her at all, so I started scratching and rubbing her. From that time on we were the best of friends. The whole process took only about an hour with her, but sometimes it takes much longer depending on the temperament of the foal. This little filly was naturally curious, so as soon as she knew I meant no harm she was completely at ease with me.

I handled Jubilee every day and spent time teaching her to lead, pick up her feet, and let me touch her all over. I also spent a lot of time just being with her and getting to know her. We developed great communication during those times. Her first vet visit was a great success; even getting shots was taken in stride. The vet was very impressed by her composure, and said she was one of the nicest foals he had taken care of. The first experience with the farrier went just as well, and I couldn’t have been happier.


By the time Jubilee was a year old, she would let me come and sit on her when she was lying in the pasture. I also frequently put things on her back to prepare her for a saddle. Since I had seven children living at home, there was always plenty of noise and commotion, especially with two boys constantly riding around on some sort of motorized vehicles. This was helpful in desensitizing Jubilee to traffic and other loud sounds, and large crowds.

The only problem I encountered in raising Jubilee was her fascination with jumping fences. A strand of electric tape had to be added to the top of the five-foot board fence (I finally understood the need for a fence that high). She would also jump stall doors from a standstill. I became so frustrated trying to keep her in that I almost sold her to someone who shows hunter/jumper, but I’m glad I waited. It seems it was just a stage like children go through, and though she still enjoys jumping, she has learned that inside the fence is where she belongs unless she is being worked.

Jubilee is now almost 4 years old. She goes English or Western, walks, trots, and canters using only voice commands, and has been started over small jumps. She is happy going by herself, or in a group, and is always polite to people and other horses on group rides.
This summer my daughter plans to use Jubilee for competitive trail rides. Raising and training this filly has been one of most rewarding experiences of my life. I am considering doing it again sometime in the future. I am thankful that I had the opportunity to save a beautiful foal from a terrible fate, and get an awesome horse, and a lifetime friend at the same time. Anyone thinking about raising a foal should consider adopting a PMU.

If you would like to see pictures of Jubilee, click on "Farm Photos" or "Jubilee's Slide Show" in my links list.