Slaughter Foes Triumph...Now What?

Last week, legal wrangling put an end to the practice of slaughtering horses in the United States. The two plants in Texas will remain closed after their attempts to reopen were denied by the Texas legislature and the U.S. Supreme Court. The plant in Dekalb, Illinois, stopped operations after the state's governor signed a law Friday, making horse slaughter illegal there.

Proponents of banning slaughter in this country are celebrating, claiming they've helped horses with their efforts. But have they? Or have they just found a way to push slaughter over the borders and off of Americans' collective conscience?

Slaughter's foes don't seem to be talking about how the number of horses going over our border into Mexico for slaughter has increased over 250 percent so far this year, compared to last. (That stat comes from the USDA.) Nor do the crusaders seem to be mentioning that a new equine slaughter plant is under construction in Saskatchewan, not far from the U.S. border--where foreign interests maintain an equine feedlot on the Montana side.

Maybe they'll get around to talking about those inconvenient realities once the "we won!" partying lands them back on Planet Earth.


Meanwhile, feel free to share your thoughts.

Memorial Day for Horses

In my family, we consider Memorial Day to be a serious holiday. With our own corner of hallowed ground--a family cemetery that's existed for over 100 years--we view Memorial Day as a time for reconnecting with the family members who've departed from earthly life. We get together, spruce up the grounds, polish the headstones, plant flowers, reminisce, and stand at attention for a short ceremony and gun salute conducted by members of the local American Legion chapter. Afterward, we share treats and more memories around what used to be Grandma's kitchen table, before she took her own place in the cemetery.

This Memorial Day weekend, I'm planning to do something similar at the pasture spot that's become our ranch's horse cemetery. Ace and Najah reside there now, and I can't think of a better time to honor their memory. Najah's grave is fresh enough to have exposed topsoil, so I bought some Kentucky bluegrass seed that I'll ceremoniously sow and water. I won't go so far as to put up headstones, but I will get their nameplate halters back out and hang them on the nearby fence for the day. I'll pick an armload of flowers to place into one of those fence-hung feeders, doubling for the day as a makeshift vase. And I'll bring each horse an honorary sample of his favorite treat--some Classic Coke, which Ace adored, and a shiny red apple for Najah.

I'll have to do without a gun salute by the American Legion--no sense spooking the horses that're still with us. But I'll have a few extra treats on hand, just in case they mosey over to pay their own respects to the departed.

Your Climate's Horsekeeping Challenges

Like most of us, I tend to get inured to the everyday horsekeeping issues created by my area's climate. For instance, since I live in northern Idaho, near the western foothills of the Rockies, I expect to deal with wet winters (translation--nine months of mud), and to be rewarded for all the inherent inconveniences, with temperate, relatively bug-free summers.

But after spending last weekend with a longtime horse friend now based in Arizona, I was struck by how the vastly different climate contributes to a vastly different sort of horsekeeping. While I'm worrying about having horses lose shoes by going out in the mud, she's having to think about such matters as prevention of sand colic, and encounters with rattlesnakes. Whereas I probably spend more time on barn maintenance as I do in the saddle, she doesn't even need a barn in the first place. A simple shaded structure serves all her horsekeeping needs quite well.

I sometimes have to chop ice from water tanks. She never does. She has to know how to deal with poisonous varmints. I never do. I buy horse blankets seemingly by the ton. She buys of flyspray and sunscreen seemingly by the gallon. I spend three-quarters of the year riding with ear warmers. She spends every day of the year riding with sunglasses.

Different climates. Different horselives.

How's yours compare?

Horse-Breed Opinions: I Say X, and You Say Y

Suppose we got to sit down together for a chat about horse breeds, favored and unfavored. How would you complete the following?


Arabians are....


Appaloosas are....


Miniature Horses are....


Quarter Horses are....


Paints are....


I just plucked those five out of thin air; we could talk about other breeds at some point, too. But for now, go ahead and free-associate for the first five. Could be an interesting conversation!

Sitting Out the Breeding Season?

If you're among the horse ownes who produce foals, here's a question for you: Did you breed your mare(s) this year, or are you opting to sit out the '07 breeding season?

I'm taking the latter route. Although it'll leave me with a dicey commodity--a broodmare who'll be 18 and empty in 2008--it's a call that my conscience says needs to made. The rest of the U.S. horse industry's producing more than enough foals to go around, so it's not like I'll be depriving the market in any way. And with the volatility of the slaughter situation, plenty of other horses are in need of homes. The next time I feel the desire to bring up a young horse, I doubt I'll have any trouble finding one to buy.

I've made this decision despite having a free breeding to a stallion I really like, and despite the satisfactions of "making my own" when it comes to prospects. It does feel a little weird, knowing that little Tiffany could be the last of Gussie's babies. But even though my ol' gray mare is in heat right now and looking for her next boyfriend, I'm just gonna sit back and enjoy the horses I already have.

You?

The Power of Mare-ternal Instinct

I just came in from helping Ed bury the pound rescue who'd been our loyal farm dog for the last 10 years. In a series of repeated attacks, she was pulverized by the dam of our new foal. It was obvious at a glance that poor Kasha was mortally wounded; rather than prolong her agony with a 30-minute drive to a vet clinic for euthanasia, Ed shot her with his rifle.

This sad episode serves to remind us of how powerful a mare can be when her protective maternal instinct kicks in. Gussie's known and accepted Kasha for years, and had no glaringly obvious reason to be provoked--the dog was merely wandering across the pasture, as she did several times every day on her rounds to patrol the ranch. Gussie's normally a kind and placid mare, one who's never shown an inkling--until today--that she might be capable of such fury. Yet something--the recent presence of nearby coyotes, perhaps, or a gathering spring storm--stimulated her to attack Kasha hard enough and often enough to make sure she wouldn't get up.

I'm going to remember this day whenever town-dwelling guests bring their dogs out for "romps in the country." If something like this could happen with a dog that a mare knows as well as the horse in the next stall...well, you can finish the thought on your own. I need to go back out now, and say a few words over the grave of a really good old dog.

How Many Horses Do You Have?

"How many horses do you have?" I get asked that question a lot. (Do you?) It usually comes up at "civilian" social gatherings, where people are trying their best to make polite conversation and have gotten past the standard "what do you do?" line of questioning.

It may seem odd, but I never know the answer right off the top of my head. Horses are always coming and going around here, so the number goes up and down and back up again, several times a year. I had to stop and count fingers just now: There's Tank, Gussie, her new filly Tiffany, Chanel, Riley, plus Beau, the boarded horse. So, six. But just a few weeks ago, we also had Carson (sold) and Najah (deceased). And before that, we also had Nelson (sold), Starla (sold), Trouble (given to our farrier's three little boys, in an eruption of "pay it forward" good will), Ace (deceased), Jack (boarder horse who moved away)...plus numerous other ex-residents. Now you know why I never bother to put name plaques on the stall doors.

I never get tired of learning what makes each horse unique, nor of seeing my horsemanship improve as a result of the variety. I'm like Velvet Brown the girl in "National Velvet" who had paper-doll horses in every size and color--except that my ever-evolving collection eats, and won't quite fit in a shoebox.