The Death of The West

by Signy Ellerton
(Church Hill Maryland)

I am a horse woman in Maryland. I recently attended an adoption in Delaware. There I met some of the nameless numbers that are wild horses have become. I found the entire process very sad. I met many people that were interested in buying a Mustang. For $125.00 you too can own a piece of the west, and for $50.00 you can purchase a companion "animal". Most of the people I spoke with had no clue what they were getting into. This little problem didn't seem to matter as BLM workers and volenteers loaded up to 4 horses or burros into trailers. My husband and I were asked over and over if we were taking "one" home. It seemed very cold. However the horses and burros seemed calm until moved. i thank god for that! They were skinny, with long hooves and ratty coats. Most had diarhia, I'm guessing from stress, and the change in diet. When i asked what happens to those who didn't get adopted they said they are shipped back to holding facilities or to the next adoption site. What a sad life it must be, to be carted around like a used car, state to state, holding pen to holding pen. In the trailer out of the trailer! These are young impressionable horses, the more trama they are caused the less likely they are to be adopted. I got the wonderful opportunity to care for Kirby, a wild mustang who had been trained as a riding horses. After 15 years with humans he still could take us or leave us, but he and I worked on a relationship, and it was beautiful. He was the reason I went see these wonderful creatures to start with. I wanted to see where Kirby got his start, and why he was well, Kirby. I went to the farm where Kirby lives wrapped my arms around his huge neck and cried. I cried for him and the 32,000 horses in holding facilities. I apologized a hundred times for what we had allowed to happen over and over. I promised Kirby that I would do everything in my power to stop the BLM from hurting another wild horse. As I looked at Kirby I realized that his heart was so much bigger than mine, for he had room for forgiveness, and trust. As did the horses in the pens in Delaware. After all the trama they were willing to take food from hands and allow me to touch them. We exchanged breath and glances. These are not soulless beasts they are a gift from the gods! They should be revered and looked at as a national treasure, not a government commodity!