Every person–and horse–deserves a second chance.
is a well-known place of hope for horses in the Sea to Sky region. But what does it take to save a neglected or traumatized horse?
“I’ve been a horse lover and an animal lover since I was knee-high to a grasshopper,” Kris Latham, the president of SCCR whose lifelong passion for animals has driven her work. “I’ve been helping animals in need of homes from a very young age. Once I was able to acquire this ranch—Cheekye Ranch—it became a necessity. Through the grapevine, I connected with some amazing rescues who highlighted the need for more help to get animals out of the slaughter pipeline. And that’s how it all began.”
Latham’s early love for animals is grounded in vivid memories.
“Growing up all over the world, I was exposed to a lot of animals,” she said. “One memory that stands out is from when I was in South America. I was sitting in a park where a herder had left a herd of donkeys to graze. I was only seven years old and thought they’d been abandoned. I told my mom we needed to take them all home.”
The reality of auctions and horse slaughter
While many of the horses at SCCR come from neglectful or challenging circumstances, some are rescued directly from auctions.
These auctions often serve as a grim crossroads for unwanted animals.
“Canada has meat buyers at auctions because horse slaughter is legal here,” Latham explained. “It blows my mind. Horses—and all animals—are sentient beings. They feel, they think, they project emotions. They’re everything we are.”
According to the , approximately 50,000 horses are slaughtered annually in Canada, with most of the meat exported to countries like Japan, France, and Belgium. Horses sold at auctions often fetch $0.30 to $0.60 per pound, making them a target for meat buyers seeking to fill quotas.
At these auctions, if a horse isn’t purchased privately, they face a bleak future. “The meat buyers step in,” Latham said.
“They don’t discriminate—whether it’s a 28-year-old horse that should have been humanely euthanized at home to avoid stress, or a baby less than a year old. They just buy as many horses as they can, fill up their trucks, and send them to feedlots before slaughter. It’s heartbreaking.”
The journey from trauma to trust
Every horse arriving at Cheekye Ranch has a story, but many share common threads of neglect, abandonment, or trauma.
Latham described the overwhelming stress some horses face, even before arriving at the ranch.
“Trailering can be extremely traumatizing, especially for those who haven’t experienced it before,” she said. “When they arrive, we let them decompress. We don’t force interaction—we let them adjust on their own terms.”
The process is slow and deliberate, built on respect for the animal’s boundaries.
“It’s about trust,” Latham said. “You start with something simple, like letting them smell your hand and then walking away. It’s their choice to come to you, and that’s where the healing begins.”
One of the most memorable rescues at SCCR involved 18 stud colts from the Pemberton herd.
The horses were saved from slaughter, but one stood out to Latham as an extraordinary case.
“He was an anomaly because I was able to build trust with him in a way I hadn’t experienced before,” she said. “I could groom him and interact with him freely—without using a halter, lead rope, or any attachment. We call this working at liberty, meaning it was entirely his choice to engage with me.”
It took Latham a full year to place a halter on him, and she remembered the moment with mixed emotions.
“I cried when it happened. It’s a bittersweet moment—on one hand, it felt like I was breaking his spirit as a wild animal by ‘catching’ him. But on the other hand, it’s a necessary step. Without a halter, it’s impossible to ensure his safety in emergencies, whether for a vet or farrier visit. It’s like putting a collar on a dog—it’s not ideal, but it’s essential for their well-being.”
Finding the right homes
For horses ready to leave SCCR, rehoming is a thorough and thoughtful process.
“We have a strict policy,” Latham said. “Not everyone who loves horses is equipped to handle them. It’s a lifelong commitment, and we’re very open about each horse’s quirks and needs to ensure a good match.”
“It’s like applying to NASA without the qualifications,” she said. “We need adopters who understand what they’re taking on.”
If things don’t work out, the ranch has a safety net—every adoption contract includes a clause requiring the horse to return to SCCR if things do not work out.
The realities of running a rescue
Behind the scenes, SCCR faces ongoing challenges that are as much about people as they are about horses.
“We need qualified trainers and volunteers, and that’s not always easy to find,” Latham said. “Training takes experience, and not everyone has the time or background needed for this kind of work.”
Funding is another significant hurdle. As a nonprofit, SCCR relies heavily on donations to cover costs such as feed, medical care, and farrier services.
“When you bring in professional trainers to work with the horses, that costs money too,” Latham added. “It’s a constant balancing act.”
A need for education
According to Latham, many of the problems SCCR addresses could be alleviated with better education for horse owners.
“People don’t always think about what happens to their animals if they can’t care for them anymore,” she said. “Do they have a plan? Is their horse provided for in case of an emergency? These are questions every owner should consider.”
While SCCR’s work is challenging, it’s also deeply rewarding—for both the animals and the humans who interact with them.
“There’s something peaceful about spending time with the horses,” Latham said. “It’s not just about helping them—it’s about finding a sense of calm and connection in their presence.”
For those who want to learn more or support the ranch, Latham encourages community members to visit, volunteer, or engage with the ranch’s educational resources.
For more information, visit .
Bhagyashree Chatterjee is The 小蓝视频’s Indigenous affairs reporter. This reporting beat is made possible by the .
