Diligence
The title says it all; even as aware as I have become about watching those places I go by, sometimes I still miss the obvious. I'd gone by this one barn scores of times, often several times a day, never saw much activity around there; the odd horse out front in slipshod paddocks but all seemed to be in fair condition. Nothing out of the ordinary for this area; very run-down places, low rent ... maybe that should have been a red flag (if we can't afford to fix anything, can we afford to keep horses?)
Got the call late one afternoon ... the sort I get 'way too many of; could I attend for a seizure right away? Seems an officer had struck an order to have 4 horses released from being kept in a barn 24/7 with no turnout or husbandry/care, & the owner appeared to have complied; trouble is they had not, just added more horses that looked like the ones trapped inside. We got to the place just before dark, and each of us were stunned at what met us ... the horses had been kept in a run-down barn littered with garbage, debris & every manner of pest. The biggest shock came when I approached the tiny area where 3 stallions & a mare had been kept. It took a moment to actually comprehend what my eyes saw, because it was just too horrible to imagine; these horses were standing belly-deep in a mire of mud & their own feces, which they had of course been eating in that last ditch effort to survive. As if that were not enough, someone had been throwing garbage, old boards, empty bags & debris into the stall with the horses! Each one sported their own array of sores, bites, cuts & other injuries. The smell was beyond anything I'd ever experienced.
It took me 20 minutes to get close enough to one stallion to get a halter on him, & that was a fight unto itself. Bit by bit, we managed to gain enough trust to handle the horses, all of which were completely feral. We expected issues with their feet, but even that did little to prepare us for what we saw as each horse was prodded & coerced from the hideous mire. What we found didn't even look like feet; at least nothing that a horse would grow ... they looked more like something one would expect to see on a deformed duck.
It amazed me the mare was even still alive but what remains the biggest puzzle - once again - is "WHY"? What reasoning allowed this person to dutifully perform such a calculated reign of abuse on these horses? Had I trusted myself not to bury the human turd in that mire of muck & manure I would have asked them for an explanation ... alas, had they opened their mouth I probably would have shoved a handful of poop into it. The despicable pit that can be the human mind is a mysterious place and one that I'm not sure I want to understand, for that way madness must lay.
I was elated at having wrangled those stallions out of the barn, into the trailer, then into their new housing at the shelter - there were more than a few "OH NO!" moments as we watched studs dance across the lot on their hind feet while rearing in what they could only deem as their last defence ... lead lines humming taut while horses wielded their battle cries & thrust pitifully deformed hooves into the darkness, striking at whatever they could in a feeble effort to escape ... I don't even want to imagine what had been done to those horses to make them THAT terrified of a human.
Upon arriving at the shelter, unloading the horses offered a distinct surprise; the eldest stallion, by far the toughest to handle, was at once alert yet docile. He regarded me warily as I slid carefully into the trailer, and was met with that unmistakable plea in his eyes: "Is it over now? May we just be horses again ... please?" He stood stock still as I slowly reached a hand towards his scarred & matted neck, & allowed me to stroke him gently. "Those days are done, My Friend", I answered through clenched teeth & a knotted throat. I tried to apologize for not helping him sooner, knowing I'd been by that place so often, so close to their suffering yet ignorant of their plight; but nothing I could say would ever make up for what happened to them. The best I can hope for is that amazing resilience to flourish, allowing these horses to heal, both physically & spiritually. Doesn't make me feel any better though, knowing how many times I'd failed them ...
One of the most frequent exclamations I receive about this sort of work is how we maintain the fortitude to keep on entering these pits of despair; how we step forth into yet another seizure & scrape the nightmares back to reveal more abandoned souls. I have names for why I do this; Madre, Twister, Falon, Noel, Pride, Lily, BJ, Rosie, Cowboy; the list goes on & on. It's the ones who make it, and brighten lives other than their own in doing so; the ones who don't survive, & take a big piece of our hearts with them when they go. Most of all, it's for the myriad of others out there, waiting ...
The moral of this all too often repeated story is this: be ever watchful, take nothing for granted, look deeply; above all, do SOMETHING! The surest way to procreate the suffering these noble animals endure is to stand in apathetic disillusionment & hope someone will make it better. That "someone" is you. Get involved, volunteer at your local SPCA or horse rescue, ask those active in rescue & rehabilitation how you can help.
