Published: May 09, 2006 10:26 am      

Just taking out the trash

In a society so accustomed to convenience it is almost impossible to keep disposability to inanimate objects.

With the need to use, abuse and toss virtually everything we come in contact with, a business is stepping up to help locals dispose of those pesky, unwanted items such as an injured horse or baby goat or calf, or even something you’re just tired of dealing with.

Just like your local pound will take the family pet off your hands once that cute puppy or kitten phase is over, your local sale barn will meet all your livestock-dumping needs.

As a reporter I am always on the lookout for news, and my visit to one sale barn was no different.

I saw from the road a tall, white horse just out of view in one of the back pens.

When I stopped for a closer look I was appalled, angered and saddened to see what once must have been a beautiful mare reduced to nothing more than bones and a worthless front leg.

The first thing that caught my eye was a massive calcification of her knee, which I was told was the result of an old injury. Flexibility of the basketball-size wound was almost non-existent, evident as she hopped about.

To say she was thin is an understatement.

As she hobbled from corner to corner in the manure-laden holding tank, each step would showcase the points of her hips pressing against her skin. Her visible ribs would protrude with each difficult movement.

Her eyes were wide and frightened. Her deep whinny was constant as she searched for a companion, desperate not to be left alone in her misery, and most likely her ride to the slaughter house.

I happened to have a camera with me and asked a female representative at the barn if I could take some pictures. Her answer was sure, why not.

I hurried back to my truck to grab my camera, eager to document the monstrosities I had just witnessed. Once I was back in front of the mare and ready to send the shutter into action, I heard screaming at my back to stop.

A male, who I can only assume was the owner of this fine establishment, began to yell violently at me, “NO PICTURES.” He continued by telling me, “I know what your doing, your going to take a picture of that horse’s knee.”

Well, I tell ya folks, he was a quick one.

He then offered me his suggestion for the use of my photography skills, “We’ve got good horses here, take their picture.”

Sure thing buddy!

In fact, the desperate mare’s stable mates included a pair of ponies, also the victims of severe neglect.

Their small, frail bodies were covered with splotchy coats of dull hair, and a constant shiver of either fear or nervousness gripped their tiny legs. Their hooves, by any horseman’s standards, were beyond long. The toes, obviously left untouched for many moons, had begun to curl over and no heel was visible. Their black, pie-plate eyes were lifeless yet held a terror few would understand, which was reflected in the flaring of their petite nostrils. Halters and worn lead ropes held their heads securely to the fence with only centimeters left for any type of movement.

Besides the ponies, a lone goat curled up atop a large pile of excrement. Helpless, he sat depressed and quiet as a multitude of flies ravaged his eyes, ears and face.

He was left over from a previous sale, so the owners said. That may be why his water was black and emitting a stagnant, putrid smell.

The longer I lingered the more volatile and threatening the male owner became. I knew I had to leave, and it was one of the longest walks I have ever taken — those few short strides to my truck, knowing what I was leaving behind.

I understand many people do not value animals the way I do. However, that does not negate the simple fact that as responsible humans we must not allow this to continue.

No animal, no matter its intended use, should be made to suffer the horrendous injustices I witnessed, and I believe it is fair to say they are not the first, nor will they be the last.

On a sale day the parking lot of the sale barn will be overflowing with eager buyers hoping to land a good deal. On any occasion you may have a few compassionate souls looking to rescue the unfortunate animals destined for a life of continued horror. But more likely than not the smelly, stale sale arena will be filled with the expected back-door brokers and slaughter house shoppers, all of whom will play a major role in the chosen animal’s next tour through hell.

Taking an animal to a sale barn is a way to pass the buck of owner responsibility. Instead of leaving your animal in the hotel of horrors only to go to slaughter, take it there yourself — have that compassion at least.

William Golding, renowned for his novel “Lord of the Flies” and its defining analysis of human nature, was a rare soul in that he believed man was innately evil unlike the traditional belief we are all born innocent.

One tour through your local sale barn might have you thinking Mr. Golding was on to something.

Only through an innate human evil can these injustices find a common place in a so-called “civilized” society.