THE REASON WE ARE ALL HERE. A PICTURE AND A STORY

[emjay]

LET THIS PICTURE REMIND YOU OF WHY WE ARE ALL HERE. WHAT'S MOST IMPORTANT.
IT ISN'T PERSONAL DIFFERENCES, IT ISN'T PAST DISPUTES AMONGST OURSELVES.
IT IS ABOUT THE HORSES.
IF EVER YOU LOSE YOUR WAY AND GET LOST IN A DISPUTE WITH SOMEONE HERE, LOOK AT THIS PICTURE.
IF EVER, YOU FEEL DISCOURAGED ABOUT NOT BEING ABLE TO DO AS MUCH AS YOU'D LIKE, AND FEEL LIKE THROWING IN THE TOWEL. LOOK AT THIS PICTURE.
THIS PICTURE SPEAKS VOLUMES TO ME, THIS PICTURE MAKES ME WANT TO SEE THIS SLAUGHTER INDUSTRY SHUT DOWN......
THIS PICTURE BREAKS MY HEART.............

[sundancer]

I know...I've seen this photo...every time I see it, I tear up...it is just SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooo sad!!!

And, yes, it makes me even MORE DETERMINED to help as many horses as I can!!!

Thank you for reminding us why we are here.

[Synthia]

This picture breaks my heart. When people say that horses have no feelings they obviously don't know what they are talking about. Look at that mom!

[echo]

I remember seeing this picture in Equus magazine a while back, it was for an article on slaughter. Poor, sweet horses. Very sad.

[natrlhands]

Yes, a sad picture indeed . . . but I sure wish they would have spelled "chute" right. It's not "shoot!"

Syndi, you are so right . . . anybody who believes horses (or all animals) don't feel emotions should see that picture. What a sweet mama - this picture will probably haunt me for days.

[emjay]

This isn't my Barn...

But they lead me in, a tag is pasted on my hip as I pass through the doorway. The aisle is lined with stalls. There are several horses, large and small, old and young in each stall. Hundreds of stalls line the dimly lit aisle way, some of the horses are fat and sassy, some had missed many a meal and didn't look as if they had ever seem a curry comb. As I follow the man who holds my leadline, I crane my neck to see those in each stall. Each horse or pony had a different look to them, some were resigned to their surroundings and others had expressions of apprehension or dismay, still others looked around with interest at their surroundings.

I'm scared, where is my owner and my clean quiet stall and green paddock?

The building is hot, the putrid stench of the manure rising in waves and filling my lungs with the rank fumes. Flies feast on the enclosed horses, some of them have open wounds which seethe with a life of their own from the flies which crawl across their surfaces. I see two horses who are down, flat out on the ground and not seeming to care that their stall mates bump them or step on them as they mill around in the small enclosure.

The man leading me roughly shoves me into a stall with 4 other horses. The big black gelding aims a nip and I duck for cover behind the kind looking mare. She looks at me with the eyes of time and gently nudges me behind her, where I gratefully cower.

The barn reeks from the odor of manure and fear, loudspeakers blare over head with a man shouting something and then SOLD followed by quiet for a moment until the drone of his voice starts again. Horses and ponies are run up the aisle to our right and soon come back down the aisle on the left, nostrils flared and eyes white with horror.

Before long it is our turn, the gate to the right side of the stall opens and we are prodded down the aisle, which narrows to a chute. I struggle to keep up with the others as we are lashed from behind by the people who shout and whip us on.

The black gelding enters the enclosure at the end of the chute first and the gate slams in our faces to block us from following, and I press firmly to the side of the sorrel mare who is slightly in front of me. Soon the gate opens again and I rush through beside the mare, frantically evading the man who trys to block my passage.

There is a small ring before us, people are peering down at us from the heights above. Rows upon rows of them, their faces blending together and the sound of their voices being drowned out by the same voice I had heard before.

OK, lets sell the mare first the voice rings out and before long a BANG!!!! and SOLD! cuts through the clamor of the crowd as the mare is separated from me by a huge mean looking man who brandishes a whip in my face. I try to keep up, but she is forced out of the gate on the other side of the ring and I am alone, ALONE, for the first time in my life! How much am I bid on this colt? the voice rings out from over head. Six months old, fine little fella, lets start at $100.00?

I stand with my legs spread, trembling with fear. A man comes toward me and I clack my teeth at him, but he hits me anyway so I run, and run and run and run until I sprawl in the filthy mess covering the slick flooring of the ring. I manage to get to my feet as the SOLD to R.C." rings out from the loud speakers. The gate the mare left through is opened and I rush through, frantic to find her.

There she is!!! I rush to join her and she nuzzles me and I press against her. We are in a big pen now, dozens of horses wheel around and others are being added. I try to nurse and the mare reminds me with a gentle nip that she is not my mom.

Soon those men are back again. This time they herd us into a long narrow trailer.

OUCH, that hurts!

I am slammed into the trailer wall by the weight of the larger horses, each scrambling for footing on the metal floor. Frantic neighs ring out, echoing back and forth across the limited space. The mare falls under the weight of a large bay but she rightens herself and I manage to get beside her again, Her side is smeared with blood, a gash is open down her side and the burgundy flood oozes from the wound and drips to the floor adding to the slippery mess underfoot. I see wounds on several of the horses and ponies, one gray is standing balanced on three legs, the fourth hanging limply at a weird angle. I stand trembling beside the mare as the trailer lurches forward, her blood mingling with the sweat and stale urine on my side.

For hours we ride, I am cold, hungry and torturously thirsty but the ride goes on and on. Some of the horses fall, not to rise again, the others stamping on them as they try to keep their footing in the swaying trailer. My mare sags beside me, her head low to the floor of the trailer, and her eyes half shut. I want to lay down, but I don't dare for fear of being crushed. The heat of the day slowly gives way to the coolness of evening, but this too is a short respite for soon it is bitterly cold in the wind swept trailer. The lights of passing cars are a monotonous flash across the ceiling of the compartment and finally the trailer grinds to a halt.

We are in front of what looks like another barn, but it doesn't smell right. Smells like blood. LOTS of blood ..... and fear. The trailer edges back, finally stopping as it presses into the back of the building and it is suddenly quiet except for the sounds coming from the building. A rapid, frantic neighing mingles with a strange muffled whine. I haven't even the strength to be afraid so I stand miserably next to the mare, trying to be as small and unnoticeable as possible.

The gate at the rear of the trailer opens and a hand with a stick comes from between the slats and the horse it touches bolts forward, exiting the trailer with a huge leap. One by one the horses in front of me are forced forward, soon the stick comes down on my back with pain coming out of it's end so severe I jolt into action. Lurching forward, I almost pass the sorrel mare, but the stick shocks her forward to and soon we are rushing through the chute and entering the building.

The smell is worse in here, horse try to plunge to a halt and turn back, some falling in the process and being trampled by those behind. A pinto pony falls in front of us and the sorrel mare and I do our best to avoid falling with him as we clamber over his thrashing body. The neighing of the horses has become a constant scream, punctuated by a "THWACKING" sound from behind the gate in front of us. The press of the horses against me is overwhelming, I can't breath except to pant in the horrible air drenched in the odor of fear and blood. The press from the horses behind moves us steadily forward.

I can't see over the side of the chute, but it must be really bad, because my sorrel mare begins to try to thrash backwards, forgetting me completely in her panic to get away.... The press of the horses behind is too great and she fails to escape, but my right eye is smashed by her hoof and the pain tears through me as my eye explodes from the blow. The pain is unbearable, I fall to my knees but manage to regain my legs before being trampled to the ground.

A small gate opens in front of us and another shock is administered to the bay in front of my mare and he pitches forward, the gate slamming shut behind him. Before that gate closed I see the interior of a small stall, covered with blood, urine and manure. And something else? I think it was a horse hanging upside down? Can't see too good, my only eye has blood pooling in it from the side of the sorrel mare. Just as the horses pressing behind me threaten to take me to the ground the gate opens again and my mare is shocked through, I try to follow again but the gate slams shut in my face.

Neighing and calling to her I pitch myself against the gate, to no avail. She answers me, I can hear her above the screams from the other horses, but her neigh is cut off in mid voice and I hear her no more.... Then the gate opens again and I see her, hanging from a hind leg, her throat a fountain of blood and her eyes glazed over as she swings off to one side. Rearing toward her I feel some thing smash into my head, stunned I fall to the soiled bottom of the stall. In a stupor I feel myself being lifted, higher and higher as my head swings below me and then a sharp pain... in my throat... I can't see anymore, don't know where my mare is... it hurts...slowly a peace seeps into me...........

[newbarn]

so very sad, the word must get out to all...to save the next pair

[emjay]

just a foot note. blazinsaddles wrote that story. THIS ISN'T MY BARN.

very well written, don't ya all agree.