As I drove onto the premises this morning, it was clear that a hectic day lay ahead. Today was not only the start of the weekend, but for these people it meant that they only had a limited time in which to buy oat hay, as the feed store closes at 12 on a Friday. And by the looks of it the demand was high. To make matters worse, it had been rainy for quite a few days now and the horses needed to tread more carefully on the tarmac not to slip and not being able to get to the clinic in pouring rain, their shoes are more worn that usual. Understandably the line waiting to see the two overworked farriers was long, some of the horses needed their regular deworming, and injuries needed to be looked at.
Ashley and Bonani are methodically hammering away taking care to give each individual their best possible service, and of course the customers are growing increasingly demanding and impatient. Even the horses pick up of the pressure and irritated atmosphere today. Some are stomping relentlessly, kicking their front hooves into the floor as if to hurry the process along, neighing and blowing off steam. One of the smaller horses even lets out a squeal, momentarily giving the impression that the cart sports a modern siren. Obviously he is not enjoying the cramped space waiting amongst more than the usual number of horses. I move in between them and smell the typical horse aroma from their sweating bodies and feel their intolerance of each other, as their muscles ripple and twitch as they wait their turn.
All three of the Inspectors are assisting the vet in closely examining a small postured stallion that had been brought in this morning in an exhausted, worn-out state. As regulation stipulates the Inspectors weren’t allowed to collect the horse when his owner reported that it was cramping, during the nigh, as some of the areas where the horses are kept are considered unsafe. Consequently the owner walked the horse all night in an attempt to alleviate the pain. When he was finally brought to the clinic, he was exhausted and in severe pain, and the two Karins carried him into the stable with great effort.
His little body lies quite weak and depleted of all energy on the shavings. Now and then, because of the cramps, his attempts to roll over are heated by the owner’s son or anybody closest to the stable. If there were one thing they have learned, it would be that a colic horse should not be allowed to roll over, because their guts would twist and it would die a very painful death. But for now Billyboy’s pain has been lifted a bit and only the night would reveal how tomorrow would be.
Little groups of carties stand around on the premises and at least greet each other with social status acknowledgement and understanding. One of the guys seem to be quite pleased with the fact that he owned, by the looks of it, the biggest horse around. Some of them are even quick to point out to the inspectors which horse is still underweight or seems to be malnourished or lame. Heck, they even start apologising for their own tack that might not be up to regulations or that they are aware of their own horse needing shoes… mmm, Guilty conscience, anyone?
Suddenly Diana starts yelling at an owner as a pair of horses have now started a screaming match of their own, and he is lost in thought and hadn’t noticed the two dominant characters moving closer and closer to each other’s personal space. And just as that little scuffle is sorted out, Diana lets rip at the youngsters at the gate to remove themselves, as they have been caught stealing there before. For now peace is restored.
With the two Karins hot on her heels, the vet enters the one stable. Heidi had been brought in a couple of days ago, but not one has been able to determine what exactly ailed her. After a muscle relaxant has been administered the vet pulls on a plastic glove that, I promise you, covers her arm all the way to her bra strap!
I stand back and look at this lot, how the teamwork just runs smoothly without prior arrangement or planning. Picture this, three women with blue uniforms holding the horse upright, while one of them hold on to the front leg (a horse on 3 legs can’t kick!) and someone else lifts the tail so that the vet, while standing snug up against the hinds of the horse, her arm inserted into the mare’s backside and with the other arm holding on to the stethoscope, could listen intently for the sound of the expectant life. All of this is carefully overseen by the dogs now comfortably curled up on their blankets at the entrance of the stable. I don’t even try to hide the smile on my face, of content, of peace, of how much these people care. One can see it in their eyes, that kind of caring you can’t fake.
Momentarily, the insistent disruptive hammering from the farriers is called to a halt, so that the quiet assists the vet’s examination, and to all’s relief the pregnancy is confirmed. Yes, the beautiful dunn’s foetus even kicked the vet’s hand during the internal examination. And if it kicks, it’s not an intestine.
Diamond trots around in his stall, pushing against everything and ripping large pieces from his hay net, as if to convey to the rest that the place belonged to him. His owners were arrested during a robbery, and the police called CHPA to confiscate. Now if someone could just get the message through to him that Kleintjie is cleaning his stable for his benefit, things could go a lot smoother. Arrogantly he yanks big chunks of hay from the net whilst keeping a sharp eye on her movements around him, ready to adjust the situation if it would not be to his liking. Kleintjie treads carefully today as, from what I’ve heard, he has already once since this morning explained to her whom he considers to be superior. Physical punishment seems to be the speciality of the day as she already sports a bruise from this morning, and Koffie, the donkey, has explained something graphically on Diana’s knee.
I feel myself drinking it all in. Clouds of shavings and oathay dust, the saltpetre smell of the horses, manure and carotene embracing the hammering of the farriers and territorial barks of the dogs all captive in this moment of care… experiencing it deep within my senses. Basking in the wake of unconditional care. I feel the unselfish heartbeat vibrate in these people.
They will not get rich from what they do here, trust me, but their riches are measured in the love they feel for these animals. Tonight when all others return to their homes, they really never get a chance to close the office door and shut down for the day, so to speak. It is just such a day today, as two of the vehicles are already packed and supplied for tonight. More that usual this months has called for officers to sleep over at the clinic. Every two hours they would get up walk the horses, clean up the stables, administer medicine and help them to keep fighting. Carefully coax them to taking 10%, a special feed, bit by bit in the hope that he would eat it. And then if she did in the end have a chance to fall asleep, would still keep vigil for any movement in the stall, because it is still imperative that the mare not roll.
I saw their devotion a couple of times today go far and beyond diligent. While conversing with Diana, a sudden shuffle emanated from the stable. Within an instant she turned and leapt towards the stall, arriving all hands on deck simultaneously with the two Karins. That’s care. Devotion. Ongoing devotion.
You ask me why I visit here, and take one photo after another, and also now write this piece? I wish you could see what I have experienced here. CHPA only recently was bequeathed a farm though a generous benefactor and it is, as we speak, being renovated and shaped up for horses that would need long-term treatment, have been confiscated due to ill treatment, malnourishment or abuse, or even if at the end of their lifetime all that would truly bring peace and salvation, would be restful retirement, to be well deservedly free.
Understandably they need a great deal in order to make this a reality, from human boarding necessities to farming to horse – from a nail to a can of paint or a piece of twine. I wish we had a proper MakeOver team like in the USA. We could’ve driven in there with provisions to boggle their minds, fully loaded with furniture, appliances, aids or equipment.
These dedicated people offer themselves, their home lives and time to make sure that the horses are provided with the best possible chance. “Zero Tolerance” is an ideal they strive towards, but it is unfortunately very difficult to break bad habits especially if they had been carried from generation to generation. Fortunately the staff here understand this, and has built up a good relationship and understanding with the carties. But, the good news is, that the education process is well on it’s way and gradually the excuse of “not knowing” would not be tolerated anymore, and these majestic animals would receive their responsible and well deserved care. If not, there would be a few staffmembers in Epping and Gordonsbay that would be so kind as to explain it to you, with pictures if needed.
There is no question, for CHPA the horses take president, because they can’t talk for themselves. Thanks Cart Horse, we support you and stand behind you in this. And bring to the table as much as we can, as we realise that your ability to really make a difference is in direct correlation to how much support you receive from us, the community. And if you were not able to achieve your goals then where would we turn form hep for these animals? So tell us, what can we do, what can we bring? Thank you for the passion, the conviction and care that is the true meaning of the word “Protection” in your name.
If there is anyone out there who would give a bucket, a nail, a screw, a paintbrush, bedding, blankets, appliances, furniture, building materials, brooms, wood, timber, or any farming implements or any equine equipment or accessories, large feed containers, halters, tack, rope, twine, string, wheelbarrows, fly nets, whiteboards with pens, lockable containers, steel cabinets, veterinary equipment or what have you, lockable cabinets for medicines, fridges, tool cases, tools, floodlights, weed eaters, lawnmowers, generators, stoves, hosepipes, portable or rechargeable lamps, beds, curtains…. how long a list do you need? Maybe just one word will suffice – anything! to donate, it would be greatly appreciated.
And if you could even donate your craft or service in your particular field or could even spare a few of your hands or staff in order to complete any of the countless unfinished tasks, you would be an angel sent from above. There are so many little things that could be wrapped up in a jiffy if all chipped in. The sooner we help them to achieve a working farm, the sooner they could reach these goals and be able to make a real difference to the suffering.
Contact Cathy 021-5353435 if you can contribute in any way, even if you could spare small change. Every little bit helps. They have Internet details they can provide so that you can do this at your earliest convenience and comfort.
Those beautiful horses need all of our help. Let’s see if we all can make it a reality.
I thank you so very much
(2061 Words)
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