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This is a true story.....

I was "on the road", travelling across several states, to visit a friend a few hundred miles from home.  I had no time schedule to follow, and as luck had it, I saw a sign reading "Horse Auction Today".  I dont know if my love for horses works like a magnet, and draws me toward everything "horse related", or if there is a higher meaning, which I wont try to explain.....  Anyhow, I was there, and wanted to see what was going on.  On the way into the sale barn, I bought a few needed tack items from vendors in the parking lot, and entered the sale barn, and spent the greater part of the day looking at all types of horses being sold at quite a variety of prices.  Later in the afternoon, needing some fresh air, and a good stretch, I exited some doors in the rear of the barn.  There I saw many horses, bunched together in groups.  One large group of about 20 horses were visible a short distance back from the exit. I went to look at them, and noticed that they all had yellow tags, reading "DO NOT REMOVE" attached to their sides.  These were in addition to the regular auction numbers pasted on their faces.  I soon found out that these stickers identified these horses as what they referred to as "Loose Horses", this title, actually referring to those unwanted horses, generally destined to slaughter.  Some were old, sick, blind, or lame.  Others looked healthy, but had behavioral problems.  Yet others simply ended up there just because they were unfortunate enough to end up with owners who did not care enough to treat or sell them properly.

The story begins here......

His name was Washu, auction #698.  He instantly caught my eye as he was led into the sale barn.  His sleek red-chestnut coat, deep black shiny mane and tail, attached to his well built approximately 14.3 HH body.  He had a noticable freeze brand beneath his mane, obviously a BLM Mustang.   The spanish horse in him was very visable, looking somewhat Andalusian.  This proud gelding was one fine looking horse, with nicely trimmed hooves, well groomed coat, and a sweet demeaner.

He was led into the sale barn by a middle aged man, and his two sons.  The father was filling out the auction paperwork, while the number 698 was pasted to his forehead.  It was when they pasted a yellow "kill tag" on his side, that I gasped for air, in a shocked manner.  I looked over at the father, who was too busy filling out paperwork to even show concern.  I said to the older of the two boys, "what's wrong with this horse"?  The boy replied "nothing".  I then asked why he was being sold as a "loose horse". The boy looked confused, and said "what do you mean"?  I told him the reason for the yellow tags, and told the boy that the horse might be slaughtered.  I said to the boy "there must be a mistake".  The boys looked upset, and the father ignored the whole matter, still filling out paperwork.  I again asked the boy, "is he healthy, or was he injured", the older boy replied "no, he is very healthy", and the younger boy confirmed.  I then asked his age, and name.  The older boy paused, and replied 5 or 6, and his name is Wachu.  I then asked if he was mean, dangerous, or had vices.  The boy replied "no".  While I hated to continue to pressure this child, I told the boy the possible fate of the horse, and saw the fear in both boys eyes.  I then said "can you ride him"?  The older boy replied,  "we used to ride him, but that was about two years ago", and said "he is green broke".  I asked why he had not been ridden since.  I could see the tears roll down the boy's cheeks, as he replied "no time".  Then he said, pointing to his father, "ask my dad about him, he'll tell you more", and turned away from me.

I saw the father standing behind me.  I turned to him and said "why are you selling him this way, do you know where he may end up"?  The father replied "It's better this way, we just don't have the time for him, and he's kind of flighty, not many brains", as the man walked out the door, saying "come on boys, let's go".

Washu was put into a stall with no hay or water, like all the other 20 or so "loose horses".  I immediately walked over to his stall, and within seconds I entered it.  His mind was preoccupied with sniffing the neighboring horses in adjoining stalls, and a few snorts were exchanged.  I began to rub his mane, and face.  He accepted my touch and petting without any fussing, and his ears remained alert and upright.  He had kind eyes, and he was gentle to handle.  I looked over his body and could see he was indeed well cared for and healthy.  That was when I decided that I would bid on him, even knowing that I had little cash with me (they don't accept credit cards), and not having a clue how I would transport him.

A few hours later, all the "loose horses" were packed together into one large stall, everything from small ponies to a large Clydesdale, mares to stallions.  The fighting began, and more than one horse was kicked, bit, and injured.  These, being the last horses of the day, to be auctioned, they were rushed through the sale ring, so quickly that a good part of the time I could not understand the auctioneer, or comprehend the current bid price.  The horses were pushed, shoved, and punched.  Some were hit with rods, and one smashed across the face with a stick.  Several showed fresh open wounds, from being kicked or bit.

Washu entered the sale ring, and after a few slaps, he was pushed right back out the exit.  He was rushed through so quickly, and the auctioneer went so fast, that before I was even was able to comprehend what was going on, he was sold.  I did not even know the final bid price until after he was sold.  He sold for $325.00.  While I may have been able to outbid the buyer, with the cash I had, and figured I could find some means to transport him, it was too late, he was sold.  While disappointed, I was pleased to see he had gotten a home, (or so I thought).

It was not until the last few remaining horses were rushed through, did I realize the fate of Washu, and most of the other 20 horses.  I noticed that most of these horses, including Washu, were being bought by three bidders.  As it turned out, these three bidders were all slaughter people.  Slaughter people do not look any different than any other people in the crowd.  They do not dress differently, or wear special markings or identification.  So, unless you know who they are (and I didn't, being a stranger to that town), you don't know who is bidding on them.  It was too late, Washu, and about 75% of those 20 horses were sentenced to their death.

I left the sale arena with a horrible feeling.  I walked to the rear of the building and saw all the horses in three pens.  The three slaughter people were comparing numbers and shuffling horses between the pens.  I walked up to the guy closest to the pen housing Washu, and said to him, "are all of these horses going to slaughter".  he replied "yes".  I said to him "how much do you want for the Mustang, number 698.  he replied, "We can't sell them, sorry", and walked away, leaving to go pay his debt to the auctioneers.

At this point, none of these "loose horses" still had not been fed or watered, and the sun was nearly gone.  I noticed another horse in a nearby stall, grazing on half of a bale of hay, with another full bale next to it.  This was one of the "regular" auction horses, and I knew that horse would soon leave the sale barn, and be going to it's new home.  It was quite obvious that this horse had plenty of hay, and I decided that there was a better use for that bale of hay.  I went into that stall, patted the horse, who seemed unconcerned over what I was doing.  I "borrowed" that bale of hay, and quickly broke it open, throwing one third of the bale into each pen, housing the "loose horses".  They quickly began to eat, and enjoy the hay, as I walked away, knowing it would be the last meal for most, if not all of these horses.  While I do not profess to any particular faith, the thought of the biblical "last supper" came to mind.  I walked toward the main barn, and entered the door, as tears rolled down my cheeks, tears which ended up dripping all over the face of a shetland pony, tied in the aisleway, who looked like he or she needed a hug.  Somehow, I think that pony understood, as he or she nuzzled me.

• Speak with others who have done business at that auction house.
• Find out all the details and fees involved.
• Ask lots of questions.
• Be sure you can do a "No Sale" if you do not like the bidding or bidder (and find out what you must pay to "No Sale" your horse).
• Check the facilities and treatment given the horses.
• STAY THERE DURING THE ENTIRE SALE, and WATCH YOUR HORSE.

What Else Can You Do?

• Complain to the auction house, local Humane Organizations, etc., if you see a horse mistreated.
• Look at the "Loose Horses" before the auction, and BUY ONE or MORE.  While some are very old, or ill, many others are perfectly healthy and just need your love & care.

You may be saving their lives!!!

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A final note about Washu:

Before I left the auction, I walked up to the slaughter people, and handed them my card.  I explained to them how Washu got into the kill pen, and pleaded with them, to call me before they slaughter him, and said I would buy #698 at a profit to them.  I am waiting for their call !!!!

I have also contacted the B.L.M. to see if these is any way to save Washu, if it is not too late...

 
The Final Results:

I never heard from the slaughter people. I called the auction barn and was referred back to the slaughter people, for whom they could not give any contact information. I received a very brief email from the BLM, in which they stated that this horse was beyond the ONE YEAR trial period, and there was nothing they could do. About all I could do was pray, that by some miracle, Washu proved his worth to the killers, and found his way into someone's life, and someone's love !!!