I’m thinking of re-naming Flo Cleo, for Cleopatra, she is a regal creature, she has a distinct air of entitlement, she takes her time responding to human requests, if it all, she goes where she wishes, terrorizes dogs and finds various thrones upon which to reign. Today, with high winds all day, she found a covered dog crate in the barn from which to rule her kingdom. Later tonight, if she is in the mood, she will saunter to the back door and command the mere humans to open the door and let her in.
I hesitated to post this beautiful photo of the old horses, I can imagine the e-mail I will get within minutes from someone saying, “see, you can see the ribs, these animals are starving, they are being abused.” I didn’t put it up yesterday because I didn’t want to subject Blue-Star Equiculture to any more abuse than they already receive. Sadly, I can almost promise you that this image will appear on some websites under the banner “Stop Horse Abuse.” There are many ways beyond work and money to exploit animals. The horses names are Katie and Izora, their owner passed away before them, they require special mash and grooming.
I don’t believe in posting or not posting out of fear, that is the winding path I do not want to go on, a victory for the people I call midgets, peckerheads and toothless ducks. I am beginning to see that the great majority of people in this country do not share their views, are beginning to reject them loudly and clearly. Look at the New York Carriage Horses.
People who know nothing about animals should not make judgements about the people who own them or the animals. People who know nothing about animals should not be permitted to decide their fates or their futures. Animals get sick, they fall down, they have strokes and heart attacks, they have accidents, they grow old and die. Just like us. It should not be hidden, it is a sacrament, it should be shared.
These wondrous spirits in the photograph are in their mid 40’s, they have lived a long time, they will be at Blue-Star Equiculture for their remaining days, they are draft horses, retired from a lifetime of dignity and work. They do not eat much, they do not gain weight any longer, when animals get old, their ribs protrude. If these horses were not at Blue-Star Equiculture, they would have joined the holocaust afflicting horses, more than 150,000 a year slaughtered in Canada or Mexico, they have no place like Blue-Star to go. In a sense, equating their bodies with abuse is a metaphor for the cruel way in which many people come to view human aging. It can be sad and difficult, it can be beautiful and inspiring.
At Blue-Star, scores, if not hundreds of horses have been rescued, saved from slaughter, given work that makes their lives active and meaningful. For this, the people who run the farm and work there have been attacked and insulted, like the carriage horse owners and drivers, accused of vile and cruel crimes against animals, their donors and supporters intimidated and threatened, their private information disseminated on the Internet and elsewhere, their privacy and property invaded and sometimes vandalized. Do not look for common sense or humanity, there is none. Blue-Star is a loving place, the old horses testify to it
The old horses speak to me more powerfully than any of the others, they are deeply spiritual beings, they move with grace and and purpose, their faces and demeanor reminds us of who we are, where we come from and challenges us to think about where we are going. To me, they seem to ride with the wind and bring it with them. Perhaps these are the horses that call out to me, and remind me that truth is precious, and speaking it is the measure of a worthy human being.
Red met his match at the Blue-Star Equiculture farm Sunday, he ran into Tex, believed to be the second largest horse in the world. Tex was very interested in Red, he bent over to sniff him and Red looked up and appeared to almost pass out, he didn’t run but he didn’t look happy either. Being a border collie, he looked around and saw the fence and skittered under it and let Tex admire him from a distance.
I saw evidence of Red’s great grounding and heart at the farm, he was nipped once, butted and nearly stomped accidentally by a horse the size of a small dinosaur. Tex hung out with Red for a long time, but this was as close to Tex as Red decided to get. He kept looking at me pleading, as if to say “do not try and make me herd these things.”
Zelda is hanging low, bagging up, lowering her udders, but still no lamb. None of the other ewes have birthed either, so there is no reason to think she is overdue, but she sure looks due. Zelda is her own sheep, she will give birth in her own time. She is eating well, moving about, standing well. Got to be twins in there.
