Another Great Giveaway!

http://tinyurl.com/ndkpaqv

It's on FACEBOOK, so be ready to sign in.

This is my novel that is available for giveaway.  Take a chance on it while it's free.  You might like it.

Read more about it on AMAZON.

Two New Reviews

I've posted these latest reviews on my Wordpress blog, It's All About the Books!  Click on the link to get to each, or check out the books on Amazon, Shelfari, Barnes & Noble or Goodreads.  They are also on LibraryThing.

And a reminder: Miracle Belle, A Horse with a Secret is still free as a Kindle through Tuesday, 10/1/13 and Twisted Vine: An Anthology of Short Stories and Poems is still free as a Kindle through Wednesday, 10/2/13.

Five star review for TREE & SKY: The Secrets of Meshyah's World

http://booksbyjvd.wordpress.com/2013/09/30/tree-sky-review-5-stars/







Four stars for Where the Horses Run, Book I, Mass Extinction

http://booksbyjvd.wordpress.com/2013/09/30/a-review-by-a-horse-lover-reader/






HAPPY READING, EVERYONE!

Latest Release

I'm excited to announce that the second book in my trilogy, Where the Horses Run, Sacred Hills, is now available.  Check it out on Amazon for the book or the Kindle from my author page HERE.
The Kindle Look Inside feature has the prologue to the middle of chapter four.  Read them to determine if this big book is for you.  If you haven't read Book I, Mass Extinction, check it out HERE.  It has the prologue to the first third of chapter five available for your reading determination.  I hope you find it intriguing.

Excerpt from Where the Horses Run, Book I. Mass Extinction

Because Book II, Sacred Hills will be released later this month is now available as Kindle edition (HERE) I've posted an excerpt of Book I.  It's the Prologue and first chapter, complete.  Enjoy.

When the Earth is sick, the animals will begin to disappear.

When that happens, the Warriors of the Rainbow

will come to save them.

An ancient Native American prophesy

By a Cree woman named Eyes of Fire 

  

PROLOGUE 

Excerpt from Elle's

Journal #8—Year:  2032

Entry:  March, Tuesday

Today I saw an eagle feather free on the wind.

The two birds turned in flight around one another.  One flew upside down with the other above.  I wondered if I was actually witnessing eagles mating.  They were so high; they could only be eagles.

They passed over the tall pines, out of sight.  As I watched, hoping for their return, a large feather fell, spiraling rapidly as it dropped tip first.

Turned by a sudden gust it fluttered about caught on the breezes.  It was blown into the needles of a nearby pine.  I stared up at it, appearing a thing out of place, its black tip invisible while its stark whiteness shone brightly within the dark greenery.

I sensed it was an omen, but I'm not yet sure of what, whether bad or good.  I'll have to check on it again…next Monday, after returning from Hans's annual horse show.

Maybe the wind will catch it.  Maybe it will be tossed my way.  I'm not sure why, but my heart yearns for it.

I'm writing this, as always, so I can remember.

  

CHAPTER ONE

   

Turning to the next blank page in my tenth journal I began as I have daily since the world changed—almost a year ago.

Journal #10—Year:  2033

February, Thursday

Day 330, Year One

I felt it all those years ago, before all my troubles started, but none of us would've believed the dreadful events to come.  It's made our times one of transitions.  A world of dichotomies now exits—many attempting to go on as usual while others prepare for an expected catastrophe.  The need for any semblance of normalcy is great.

"Sometimes dreams are wiser than waking."

These wise words have proved true, especially for me.  Spoken by a well-known Sioux Holy Man, the Oglála Lakhóta Wi'ca'Sa WaKán, Hehaka Sápa…Black Elk, they could be referring to a spreading phenomenon.

Too few understand what haunts them.  Many have tried to rise above the ominous dread filling the air—studying in order to reach the intuitional, Buddhic consciousness.  We practice the Centeredness of Oneness as we follow the Path of the Heart.  It's a hard path, but a worthy one.  We want more than to just survive, because it's already begun.  The chimeric clock has clappered its first chime toward midnight in a heaven where no sound travels.  The final chime is awaited.  It will come…soon.

It feels as though Time is running out, but it must be our perception of it, which has altered.  No one can be sure.

In the last several months many walked this difficult path alongside me, drawn together by the source we're all connected to, searching for answers.  It's been a strange adventure.

Only one voice would express our experiences surrounding this event, but I wasn't yet aware of the extent of the portents.  I did, however, keep my journals, much of which this book is based on.  The words have become a testament of salvation for many.  Maybe you'll be among them as you read our account.  It may clarify many things.

It began on the day of my new beginning, the day before the world changed…forever.

*  *  *

Journal #8—Year:  2032

Entry:  March, Wednesday

Today I arrived for the horse show.  I took Tisha to dinner.

It was a long drive, beginning my horse show excursions again.  After all that's happened in the years since my last trip, since the accident, I wondered if I could ever do it again.  It helped me relax knowing my horses calmly munched hay in their trailer.

I wasn't sure this trip would ever happen today.  My early morning, with its lengthy and trying beginning, had added new anxieties.

*  *  *

It was difficult convincing Whisper, my large grey-stripped tabby and perpetually sleepy barn cat, to awaken and remove herself from Goliath's broad warm rump.  She opened her mouth to let out a wisp of her almost soundless protest before sitting up on the shifting hindquarters to yawn.  She was the only cat this beast of a horse allowed to repose so closely, and there'd never been any quarrels or mishaps.  Covering Goliath with his red cotton sheet, I wondered what symbiotic relationship they must share.

Big G's trailer loading antics were predictable so I'd arranged assistance.  Still, I had to try.  There was always the chance he might willingly walk right in.

"Okay, Goliath.  I know you're not fond of squeezing into small trailers, but I bought this one especially with you in mind.  You've fit comfortably on all your rides, so please, get in."

The giant horse was beyond lifting or maneuvering by any trainer's secret tactic to place inside so I patiently waited.  He had to be sure he was doing the right thing by climbing into a space his horse sense impressed on him as being too small.  It was the same each time we did this.

His front hooves stepped up the short ramp and he stuck his head inside the left doorway, nosing the rump of his stable mate, Lady, over the partition.  She squealed and kicked, as expected, making all my work with protective leg wrapping more satisfying.

Lady always loaded first to entice her oversized buddy to follow.  Instead, he turned looking askance at me with a white-rimmed eye snorting his protest.

Thankfully, Gabe drove up for the assistance I'd requested.  I released the grip held on my lucky charm when I saw him.

"Got a problem with the big guy?"  Gabe's mellow baritone, half-volume voice exuded calm, soothing my edge.  It worked on Goliath as well.  My black beast backed off the ramp to stretch his nose toward the extra tall Texas Ranger, rumbling his own contralto deep in his throat.  Why this horse responded to this man so well could only be attributed to Gabe's commanding self-confident bearing, always placing him as a leader, whether of men or horses.

I'd heard only a few of Gabe's life stories to hone this confidence, not the least was the rescue of this large animal.  I've always been grateful for finding my way into his family circle.  All he had to do was take the rope, lead my horse to the ramp, toss it over Goliath's neck as he pat him on his tall withers, saying, "Let's go, boy.  Ellie's got a destination to reach for lunch."  Pounding hooves followed as my horse obliged his true master.

*  *  *

Once the trailer and horses were secure, and Goliath had stomped only once, Gabe looked at me with his same question from days before reflecting in his eyes.  He had to ask again, "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"Yeah.  Now or never."  I repeated my previous response.

"And you're sure you don't need Dexter by your side?"

"No, I'm not sure, but I feel fine without him.  I think watching over Dex would give me too many things to think about right now."

"He's the one who watches over you.  Dylan didn't match you with this excellent medical alert dog so you could leave him at home."

"Gabe, we've been through this."  I handed him Dexter's leash after giving my beautiful German shepherd a big hug.  "I have to leave now, before Goliath gets impatient."  The horse stomped again, proving my point.

I stretched my arm around Gabe giving him a quick, grateful hug.  I wished again he'd been the dad I'd grown up with, but late "adoptions" can be redeeming.

"Thanks for your help."  I smiled at him before he kissed my forehead, adding, "I promise to drive carefully."

"You better."  He smiled, shaking his index finger at me as he turned toward the small SUV he used as his command car.  He glanced back as he waved his hand back and forth.  "Let Jan know when you arrive."  Dexter leapt into the back seat where he sat watching me.

"Tish will call as soon as she sees me drive in the gate."

"Good, okay."  He nodded.

I knew he was worried, but all good guardians do that, even self-appointed ones.

*  *  *

I smiled dreamily, remembering my lone send-off for this voyage toward a new beginning.

Loosened strands, dragged from under my visor by the gusts of cool breezes blew aimlessly in wild swirls around my face.  It was pleasant, but this was a drive I hadn't attempted for too long.  I hoped I was as ready for this as I imagined.

A tiny spark of fear sat like an unhatched egg incubating deep inside.  I gripped my charm and took a deep breath.  The fear haunted me as the dreams used to.

*  *  *

Once exited from the eight-lane thoroughfare, I marveled at the changes made in the years since my last visit to this once small city.  We were packed in more traffic than I was used to as we inched toward the first turn to my destination.  I was grateful the last few winding miles became the wooded fields I was accustomed to as I neared the long serpentine gravel drive.  It led to the curve along the fence beside the main barn of the Northeast Houston Equestrian Center owned by my elderly German dressage trainer, Hans Hässler.

I listened to my stomach growl in accompaniment with my turn indicator's loud rhythmic ticking.  It wasn't as fast as my heartbeat, evidence of my excitement at being here again.  Lady, Goliath and I arrived by noon, as planned, without incident, to park in the lane behind the main barn.

Tisha was relieved to see us drive in.  She hugged me as I stepped off the truck laughing as she tucked in the loose strands under my visor.

"About time you got here.  I have lunch waiting, and, yes, Janis has been notified," she said.

"Good to both.  I'm starved."

I turned to give a high, hearty wave to Hans riding a young horse at a walk around the smaller lunge pen in the distance.  He tipped his ever-present County Donegal tweed patchwork cap in return with his arm held high in the air, smiling his jolly ole elf expression.  I didn't have to see his eyes twinkling to know they were.  I was happy to see this hadn't changed since my last visit.

Tisha anxiously unloaded Lady—Viking's True Lady—a radiant chestnut beauty, full of sassy sarcasm, yet in need of a tender touch.  She touched my sister-friend's heart so they became as twin souls across species.  Tisha truly understood this flighty unpredictable mare.

The horses stepped out with greeting whinnies and wide-eyed excitement.  Tisha helped remove their light sheets, unwrap their legs and put on their shin boots before they were turned into a paddock for a little frolic.  It allowed them to loosen any kinks acquired while bracing during the drive as they also became acquainted with their new surroundings.  I hoped this extra time would make the excitement of the coming crowds of new people and horses easier on my future champions' nerves, and mine.

My introductions to all eight of Tisha's charges followed lunch.  Each had a registered German name, but I was only told the nickname given by Hans, sometimes matching a personality quirk or physical attribute.

I'll never forget Peach Butt, her name source becoming obvious by her color and my view from the rear as she was led away by another student rider.  It was an endearing term for a Thoroughbred-Hanoverian beauty whose real name was French Melody.  I had to ask.

I hoped I'd never slip and tell Bonnie though.  I could already hear her giggle.  She'd probably never let her grandpa Gabe call her by his favorite nickname again—at least not without thinking of the anatomical addition.  It'd be a toss-up whether she'd just giggle each time, or eventually become annoyed by her inability to forget that part.

The horses settled well during this special opportunity, thanks to Tisha's position as Head Groom and Hans' top working student.  She came from high school graduation last June at my recommendation.  She was learning the finer details of horsemastership, German style.

Aunt Kay, her guardian, reluctantly allowed this study after Tisha promised to return to her real education in the fall.  Being nearby Kay enjoyed both Tisha's and Greta's (Han's wife) company.

The horses weren't shown their new overnight accommodations until Tisha finished the quick clean-up grooming she gave Lady before stalling her.  She knew that'd be my plan from our past experiences together.  I did the same for Goliath.

*  *  *

My big Black had been a gift in more ways than I could've imagined when Gabe delivered him to my door and my heart.  Gabe had chosen him from a small ill-fed and ill-treated herd confiscated from a get-rich-quick fool who'd had visions of grandeur.  Diablo Negro, Black Devil, was the name his handlers had christened him.  He was scarred and too thin, his hipbones sticking out.  It gave the impression of a head too large with too much hair in his mane and bushy tail.  And I couldn't overlook the extra-large overgrown hooves.

His bad manners were obvious, but Gabe saw a look in the dark eyes he liked.  The old ranger often chose his horses that way and the two had connected immediately.

The authorities insisted he become a gelding before release. He wasn't a registered purebred, so it was probably for the best.  His having been a stallion for almost six years left its positive mark for my dressage ambitions.  My only wish was to somehow find an offspring, possibly a reflection of its sire, but the trail was still cold.

Saving the horse helped heal me from the deep, inner wound I now keep hidden.  Goliath—re-christened by Gabe—taught me more about myself than he could've realized during these last three plus years together.  Caring for him brought me back into this world.

We've worked long hours to become a team with stars in my eyes for our upcoming dances together.  I'm sure even Fred and Ginger couldn't have melded better in their famous waltzes, a scene unmatched in a once popular TV dancing series.

*  *  *

My dance partners were fed and bedded down before dinner.  When Hans completed his long day of lessons and training he expressed many compliments for both horses, especially wishing to breed Lady to his new prize Oldenburger colt next year.  But for Goliath, when he saw the equine savior who'd stolen my equestrian heart, he made a curious observation.

"Elle, bitte, ah, groß, dunkl und hübsch, yah?  Genau was Sie immer haben gewollt, denke ich.  Uh?" he remarked, sharing his hearty body shaking laughter.

"Tall, dark and handsome, huh?  You think that's what I've always wanted?  Well, yes, I guess you're right…Je ne sais quoi—he certainly has a quality that can't be put into words."

My only possible response was the agreement I sighed as I proudly admired my current favorite fellow.  I thoroughly enjoyed the warm spot inside loving him gave me.  It hid much of my previous hurt so anyone watching my reaction who didn't know me, or my past experience, wouldn't have realized he was my second horse love.

*  *  *

After unhitching the trailer in the guest parking area next to Han's long vans, and Tisha finished her evening feedings, I stole her from Hans and Greta, her new surrogate grandparents.  She followed me to the hotel where I checked in before taking her for our traditional Tex-Mex dinner along with a quick catch-up on "family" news.

We found a nice corner in the hotel restaurant and I ordered a couple of margaritas with our traditional spicy fare.  I filled the next hour with exciting stories of home.  Having Tisha as part of my "adoptive" family as a sister-friend was reflected in the magnetic plaque stuck on the side of my little fridge—Friends are the family we choose for ourselves.

Tisha looked taller when I first caught sight of her upon arrival, but she'd grown three inches taller than me before she was sixteen.  She was animated and cheerful, as I remembered her from before our accident.  It was good to see that side of her again.  I wondered how I appeared to her.  She never said.

It didn't take long to get back to talk of horses and the dressage classes I'd entered this weekend.  I was excited about putting Goliath through his paces at the advanced level we'd trained for.  Tisha was looking forward to her rides on Lady at second level.  Her masterful talent with Lady is what convinced me she qualified for Hans' guidance.  She's proved a worthy student with her assigned exhibits.

*  *  *

Laughing easily after my margaritas, the tequila being more than I was used to, we pushed the unsteady courtesy cart bumping around corners, excusing ourselves to those we almost ran into.  Being too small for all my luggage pieces we kept dropping things.  Or it could have been me, though my giggles might've been helped by Tisha's youthful exuberance.  She was always good at goading me when I was defenseless.

It was hardly a rush to my room, though we were hoping to catch the news reports of the upcoming horse show.  Tisha expected one of them might include a video with her riding the teaching Hanoverian she was scheduled to show on Saturday—the one Hans referred to as Crow Bait.

I asked, "Not The Professor?"

"He is my true teacher.  My Biermeister."

"Beer Master?  Really?  You entered him under 'Crow', right?"

"No.  I like Biermeister.  Don't you?"

Laughing with her, I gave a flippant shrug teasing as she knew I was.

After being introduced to the proud fellow I have to say Hans must be joking with his endearment.  The big guy was magnificent.  Maybe our illustrious trainer thought the poor boy a bit plain in his brown coat.  The dapples Tisha had proudly pointed out weren't visible in the transmission, but who'd notice these things?  His classic movements were inspiring, and Tisha was an elegant rider.  The glow on her face as she watched the screen was enough to show her affection for this horse.  She appeared more confident than I’d ever seen her, both with the horses and herself.  I’ll always be proud of her.

Tisha and I have known each other for almost ten years, starting out as riding student and teacher.  Suffering through the ups and downs of our separate tragedies made us feel as sisters.

I almost lost my mind, literally, after she and I miraculously survived a life-altering accident.  Then Tisha's parents died just a year later.  She's gone through more heartache than most nineteen-year-olds will see in a lifetime.  She always said she kept her sanity by helping me hold on to mine.  I love her most for that.  I couldn't have gotten though my physical and mental recovery without her.  We leaned on each other.

My special group of friends didn't mind her joining our little surrogate family.  They'd lost someone during that time as well, so we all needed the support.  What could tear friends apart actually brought us closer together.  The match for all of us was secure and loving, and better for me than the one nature's fate had appointed.

I was looking forward to having Tisha home next week during spring break, thanks to Bonnie's insistence.

After the fine review we lay on our stomachs hugging pillows, each to a bed.  We jabbered about everything we'd done since last together at Christmas until we were yawning with every other word.  We'd barely covered all her exciting news before we crashed where we lay as we spoke.  She didn't even notice Dexter wasn't with me.  I took it as a good sign.

CONTINUES WITH CHAPTER TWO

Available on Amazon now for $17.96 & Kindle for $5.99 HERE.  It's also available through the Lending Library.

Separating one from the Anthology

Miracle Belle, A Horse with a Secret, has Trisha, a ten year old girl, as a main character.  She'd never seen a horse until the filly was born, because entire equine species had vanished from the world.  Her father is the scientist who clones the first horse to survive.  Trisha falls in love and fights for the filly's right to live when problems are suspected. They become best friends, sharing their friendship more closely after a chance occurrence gives Belle a gift she only shares with Trisha.  After another surgery Belle no longer responds to Trisha so she's sure her friend has lost her gift.  She's so disappointed she complies with her father's wishes and goes off to boarding school.  Trisha doesn't see Belle again until she is grown, out of college, and Belle is old, retired from having any more foals.  They rediscover their friendship and Trisha learns of her grave misunderstanding all those years ago.

I thought the story would reach more young horse loving individuals if an inexpensive book and Kindle were available.  So, here it is and I hope you do enjoy it.

It's a spin-off of my trilogy, Where the Horses Run.  Anyone who's read Book I, Mass Extinction, will have a deeper understanding of the short story.  It takes place long after the trilogy story had ended.

It's only $.99 for the Kindle edition now and $3.50 for the little book by the end of the week.

Click HERE to go straight to the site.

Why I Wrote A Novel About Horses Disappearing from the World

George Washington was a horse loving president. He even took the time to brush his horse's teeth. Our current President, well not-so-much. He signed a bill to enable horses to be slaughtered in the US...

When I learned our fine president signed a bill to allow horse slaughter in the U. S. again, after all the work it took to get it stopped, I was devastated, then outraged.  I wrote my feelings about it under the  picture below and posted it on my tumblr site and the equine Facebook pages I'm connected to.  As of today I had almost four hundred likes on one Facebook page alone.  Many supportive comments and shares have also been made.  This is a horse loving country and we don't want to eat them, nor do we want other countries to eat our horses.  The only sound reason for allowing it would be to keep them from being shipped to Mexico and Canada where the conditions are deplorable.  Maybe there is some altruistic belief that here the sites would be monitored better and the horses wouldn't have to be hauled so far (without food or water) in cattle trucks (which are outlawed for horse hauling).  But the reason there was such a fight to shut our slaughterhouses down was because they weren't being monitored and the standards were so low horses suffered grievously.  Reports even revealed when there is difficulty killing a horse, because they do fight to avoid it, they are strung up by their hind legs alive, gutted and bled out.

If the world ever become truly civilized and advanced to a new evolutionary stage, then eating living things may finally stop.  But until then many suffer more than the general populations knows. 

Following my endearment I am posting a few other pictures I received on Facebook and reposted on tumblr and Facebook.  They aren't so nice.  Rescue organizations have worked hard to save horses neither old nor crippled, probably slow on the track, stolen, even pregnant and some babies, from the slaughterhouse.  Their job will be doubly hard now.  Oklahoma has already approved the re-opening of their slaughterhouses, and there is a restaurant in Philadelphia putting horse meat on the menu.  To me that's just gross, and I hope they lose patrons because of it.  All the eastern states are thick with horse lovers, having pony clubs, hunt clubs, point-to-point steeplechases, training stables, race tracks and breeding farms.  I've seen how close together training stables are in South Carolina.  It's much the same in the other states.

And I don't know about the rest of you, but I have no doubt that other slaughter animals go through similar circumstances.  An Inspector is not supposed to allow a bleeding animals to be rendered for human consumption.  There are good reasons for that, the most obvious is contamination, possibly infection.  I've been to a cattle auction and a steer with a broken and bleeding horn cannot go for slaughter.  But who knows what really happens.  To see what these horses go through is enough to want to stop eating any animal I haven't witnessed killed in a thoughtful, respective, humane manner.  The only thing is that often involves drugs which makes it inedible.  I have seen a deer hit in the heart with a high powered bullet turn and run until it falls.  It never knew what happened until it's heart stopped.  This is as good as nature's way of falling to a predator.  Man should be above doing it any other way.  

I will now have to edit the part out of Book II of Where the Horses Run, because the slaughterhouses are again open.  What I replace it with will not be nice.

When I look into the eyes of a horse I don't see just a horse.  I see a friend, a confidant, a partner, a free spirit, a indepentant thinker who gives in to my requests, even when they don't make sense to him.  I know his spirit and I share mine.  Whether we accomplish a little or a lot, we are a team.  He has given me more than any person is able and more than I can ever give back - courage, stamina, self-confidence, belief in myself and what I am capable of and more - so I care for his every need willingly.  Because of him I am not afraid of the big obstacles, the deep and wide trenches or threats from those bigger and stronger than I am.  I learn gentleness is wiser than harshness and one kind word of encouragement will gain more than all the loud, angry words combined.  No animal opens its heart to a human so willingly, giving all its trust when everything about the life we provide for them is contrary to their nature.  They should always live free, graze most of the day, wander where they wish and come to us only as a friend of their own free will.  No will to be free is stronger than that of a horse, yet we confine them and they accept it.  To treat them cruelly or without the consideration we expect in return is uncivilized, barbaric, selfish egocentric arrogance.  The noble horse, the throne of kings, deserves his titles, and so much more.  They deserve our love and respect.  They will always have mine. jvd

Now for the some references from my Facebook connection - EquineRescueNetwork :

 If you need to REHOME a horse, OR you are looking to ADOPT a horse, use the NEW FREE CLASSIFIEDS. They are also posted on our "view listings" tab on Facebook....

 This was taken at the Kaufman, Texas horse rendering plant before it was closed, less than a decade ago.

Now for the not so nice - read the captions:

I do not know what happened to this post, why it vanished, so I'll try again. This photo was taken inside the last legal U.S. slaughterhouse, Beltex here in Texas, in 2005. The mare in the picture shipped from Arizona to Texas and probably originated in SoCal. Note her racing plates, or sort of; on her LH, the shoe is barely hanging on. Meaning that she obviously raced and went straight onto the meat wagon. Photo taken by a US DOT investigator INSIDE THE BELTEX SLAUGHTER FACILITY. This mare was NOT part of the US DOT investigation, and I don't know why the US DOT investigator took hundreds of pictures inside Beltex itself. Perhaps s/he thought the situation was horrible and knew that it's easy for the public to dismiss photos produced by "animal rights activists"? Dunno. Do know that while the US DOT rep was taking these pictures, USDA inspectors were present. They saw nothing amiss. Nobody paid for this mare's suffering. She was thrown onto a truck, shipped across the country, terrified, and slaughtered... too slow, I guess. Posted on Facebook by Linda Broussard

I can't bring myself to post the graphic pictures, but refer you to the listed site for them.  This site also documents the conditions of slaughter.  Horses are rendered unconscious, and bled out with a still pumping heart.  Sometimes, with the rush to meet quotes, a killer won't take the time to do it correctly...as I stated about.  http://www.horsefund.org/horse-slaughter-images.php

You won't be able to eat after seeing these, and certainly never a horse.  You'll never look at a horse the same way knowing what they go through.

The following were taken at the Kaufman, Texas plant before it was closed.

Do these horses look disabled and ready to die?  That's what they're waiting in line for.

This is an obvious violation.  Read the caption.

From Jan. 1 – Nov. 17, 2005, USDA inspectors at Dallas Crown photographed violations committed under the Commercial Transport of Equines Slaughter Act, but didn’t act on them, according to a 906-page USDA document for that period obtained under the Freedom of Information Act. 

The document showed extensive, injuries, some intentionally inflicted by kill buyers and transporters, like eyes gouged out to keep horses from fighting on the trailers, especially since stallions were packed in next to geldings and mares. Both mares and geldings were also subjected to intentional blinding. 

And this is an obviously dead horse being lifted for delivery to the rendering site.  It may have been one of the lucky ones.  It was probably trampled in the crowded trailer, since outlawed for horse delivery.

I can't post the picture that goes with the caption below.  It's too graphic.  To describe it is enough: a young horse, probably a yearling, laying on its side after, hopefully, being killed.  It's left hind leg from the hock down is missing all but a piece of the bone hanging from skin.That's how the poor little girl arrived, as do many like her.  Other captions say that heads and limbs and hides were left out in bins, then transported through town dripping blood. 

Horses suffering from severed legs, compound fractures, head and other serious injuries, still births and death by trampling in double-decker trailers were some of the many photographs captured in the 906-page USDA document. 

No licenses were revoked and no penalties were assessed until 2008, when one buyer, Leroy Baker of Ohio, was ordered to pay $162,800—but refused, calling the charges “bogus.” In May, 2011, following public pressure, the US District Court for the Northern District of Ohio ordered garnishment of Baker’s bank accounts to collect the outstanding monies. http://galleries.forbes.com/gallery/Life_in_a_Slaughter_Town%3A_Kaufman,_Texas#image=0fqG2eg24m2Dq&view=filmstrip

There are many other sites.  Do a Google search for pictures horse slaughter.  And make a donation, petition and write letters.  If it doesn't stop it at least monitoring and enforcing might follow...for a while.

A Message from a Native Elder

I recognized Floyd "Red Crow" Westerman because I have admired him since I saw him in the movie, Dances with Wolves, as the chief, Ten Bears.
He passed away a few years ago and I mourned as if I knew him.  I was very disappointed he would not be around for the publication of my book series, Where the Horses Run.  I envisioned him as the character Many Waters.  I still envision him as that character.
I tried in my book to capture the essence of not only the man, but the culture and historical experiences he had which made him a great spokesman for his peoples.  To listen here brings it back to me.

When looking at science videos on YouTube I came across this video with him in it, much to my surprise.  By appearances I would guess it was made within the last year or two of his life.  He has some interesting things to say.  There are other videos you may stray to, but come back to this one.  It may touch your heart even when you didn't expect it.

Go to this address  http://youtu.be/uZ8zcAVLIqw to listen to the video titled,  News Alert Native American Indian Elder explains why this world is DOOMED!!!  [Mirroed].mp4