Someday I will sit my grandchildren on my knee and tell them a story. I will tell them about the wild horses that once roamed free on public land. I will tell them about the brave stallions, loyal mares, and foals born free. I will describe to them the sound of thundering hooves against the ground, necks stretched, nostrils flared, manes blowing, when the ground and the air was theirs. I will tell them that these noble creatures embodied the spirit of the west. I will tell them they were symbolic of the freedom we treasured. I will tell them stories....stories about a stallion who stood his ground against a helicopter, protecting his mares. I will tell them about the foals who struggled to keep up as they were chased for miles before being herded into small pens where some would break their necks and die. I will tell them about the herds who fought hard to stay together. Then I will have to break it to them that these stories have no happy ending. For I know now the day of the wild horse is coming to an end. By the time my grandchildren can sit on my knee, the mustangs will be nothing but stories and memories in photos. When they ask where the horses went, I will have to tell them the saddest part of all----the horses were sent to holding pens, crammed together, their freedom nothing but a memory as they lived out their days in zoo-like conditions, except for more and more that were sent off to slaughter. If they ask me to visit these places where horses once roamed, I will have to decline. For the land will be empty without the echo of nickers and neighs. The ground will not tremble with the force of galloping steeds. There will be no new foals peeking beneath the tails of their mothers. The wild and noble and fierce stallions will not spar, rearing in all their majesty. The land will be there, but its magic will be gone. It will be a place where cattle stand in muck and green flies swarm around dung. It will be a place where trucks leave tracks on their way to well sites. The sound of a mother calling her foal, or a stallion challenging a straggling bachelor, those will be gone. I will tell my grandchildren I spoke out every day for the horses. I will tell them many wept at the loss of these creatures and they fought the good fight. But this story ended with greed and corruption and lies.
Posted on: Fri, 10 Oct 2014 02:39:03 +0000
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